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vettelsvee · 5 months ago

Note

letting oscar take your virginity to celebrate his win

(if this makes you uncomfortable please to deny or only write fluffy before/after!) love ur work sm

V CARDS GOODBYES | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Oscar arrives home after winning his first ever Formula 1 race, so you think it’s the perfect time for you to celebrate and, also, to say goodbye to your v card ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Hope you like it anon! And sorry it's taken me almost a year I'm a mess 😭

WORD COUNT: 3958

WARNINGS: Smut (virginity loss, female receiving oral sex, fingering, p in v, protected sex, little bit of praising kink), curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Came to the conclusion after the latests Oscar fics I’ve posted that he's the most popular driver on my Tumblr page, so this is for all my Osc people out there! I'm always ashamed of posting smut (but still want to keep writing it) so I hope this is good enough for you to enjoy! Remember that your comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 (Also, thoughts on the new layout?) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

The door of the apartment you shared in Monaco opened, and before Oscar could step inside, he heard excited screams that made it clear someone was more than happy about his arrival.

Not only did your cat start rubbing against his leg while purring, but also you, his girlfriend, were hopping towards him, barefoot and wrapped in one of his McLaren hoodies, which turned out to be even bigger on you than you had expected when you decided it would be a great idea to steal it from your boyfriend.

"You did it, Osc!” you squealed as you threw your arms around his neck. "Osc, oh my God, you won a race! Do you know what that means?"

Oscar felt his cheeks turn red. Of course, he knew exactly what winning a Grand Prix meant, especially during his second season in Formula 1. However, all he did was shrug, as if his achievement wasn’t that important.

"Yeah," was all he could say.

"I’m so, so proud of you," you said in a trembling voice, standing on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands.

"I couldn’t have done it without you, even though you were here," Oscar replied sincerely, a hint of regret in his tone. If there was one thing he regretted, it was that you hadn’t been there with him throughout the whole process of stepping onto the podium.

"I know you would have liked me to be there, and I would’ve loved that too," you replied, making a sad but funny face. "But it’s okay! I screamed at the TV a lot, so I guess I helped in some way… And I’m sure you’ll win more races and I’ll be there to see them all, so it’s not the end of the world!"

Oscar chuckled and pulled you close until there was no space between you. He allowed himself a few moments to hold onto you, gently running his fingers through your hair while you clung tightly to his shirt, pressing your face into his chest as if he might disappear at any second.

"Hey… I have something for you."

Even though you whispered it, Oscar heard you perfectly. You bit your lip,. a telltale sign of nervousness he knew well, as you pulled away from him. Then, you quickly headed towards the living room, with the Australian following you, and grabbed a small book he had never seen before.

Carefully, as if it were fragile, you handed it to your boyfriend.

"Open it… I hope you like it!"

Oscar did as you asked. Gently, he opened what he soon realized was a photo album. It wasn’t just a collection of pictures of you from the past two years since you started dating. It was beautifully decorated. There were messages, and even reflections from your perspective about each memory you had built together.

"I know it’s not a big deal, but since I was so bored with studying, I have to admit I procrastinated a bit and felt like doing some crafts, so… well, this was the result," you said hesitantly, as if you were confessing a crime, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "Maybe you were expecting something else, I don’t know, but I hope you like it. You could even take it with you whenever you have to travel, so you remember me and also add something else if you feel in the mood," you added softly.

Oscar felt a lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. Although he was used to you being thoughtful, and he always tried to reciprocate, you somehow kept outdoing yourself.

"Y/N, this is…" he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. More accurately, he didn’t know how to express them. "It’s incredible. Thank you so much."

You smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, which, as you both expected, quickly turned into something more desperate, fueled by your hunger for each other.

Oscar’s hands found your waist beneath the hoodie, his fingers tracing invisible lines along your skin, moving up and down, even toying with the clasp of your bra. The only thing you could do was keep kissing him, tugging at his hair lightly and pressing yourself against his thigh, seeking friction to ease the growing ache within you.

Then, you suddenly pulled away, more abruptly than Oscar had expected. Your pupils were completely dilated, your lips swollen, and your hair a complete mess.

"Oscar…"

"Y/N…"

"I want to do it."

Your voice was barely a whisper. Oscar’s eyes widened, surprised because, even though he perfectly understood what you meant, hearing you say it out loud was an entirely different feeling.

"Babe…"

"I really, really want to do it, Osc," you repeated, more as a confirmation to yourself than to him. "Yesterday, you lost your v-card in Formula 1 with your victory, so… I was thinking maybe I could lose mine too."

Oscar had known from the very beginning of your relationship that you had never been physically involved with anyone beyond a couple of kisses and teasing. At first, you had been insecure about telling him, worried about feeling ashamed, but Oscar had always made sure you felt safe and comfortable, promising you would only take steps forward when you were truly ready.

Today, your words made clear that you finally felt like that moment arrived, and that filled Oscar with happiness not because you were about to have sex, but because it meant you were finally comfortable enough with yourself to take that step.

"Are you… sure?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. "You know we don’t have to rush anything… I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this just because, you know…"

"I know, Osc, and I promise I wouldn’t be bringing this up if I weren’t sure," you reassured him, looking into his eyes as you ran your fingers over his hands. "I love you, and most importantly, I trust you. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and well… yeah."

"It’s just… I don’t want to mess anything up, Y/N. This is really important, and it should be perfect,” he confessed with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled, cupping his face and bringing him closer for a kiss.

"It doesn’t have to be perfect as long as it’s with you, Osc.”

"Okay, but… if you change your mind at any point, you tell me," Oscar insisted. You laughed, rolling your eyes.

"I promise, really."

Your lips met again, but this time much slower. Oscar took his time kissing you carefully, wanting to do everything right. He cradled your cheek with one hand to deepen the kiss, while the other wrapped around your back, guiding you gently toward the bedroom you shared.

Once inside, he forced himself to stop and take a deep breath to avoid panicking, even though there was no reason to.

You stood in front of him, looking at him with a mix of shyness and adoration that reminded him of your early days, when you just used to go out for coffee or to the movies back in high school.

Oscar couldn’t help but look at you with an equally shy, yet utterly endearing, expression.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"I will, yeah."

You didn’t need to say anything else since kissing spoke for you. You took your time, enough for Oscar to make sure you felt completely comfortable, enough for you to overthink just a little more before deciding if you really wanted to continue…

"I love you, Oscar…" you murmured between kisses. You tugged at his shirt, helping him pull it off, running your hands over his bare chest as if you were seeing him for the first time.

"I love you too, Y/N…"

With nerves and hands shakier than he would have liked, almost as if he were the inexperienced one, he took hold of the hem of your hoodie and slowly lifted it over your head, leaving you in just your underwear.

Oscar was surprised to see you in black lace lingerie instead of the usual shorts you wore around the house. He was about to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You closed the distance between you, pressing your foreheads together before kissing him once again.

Neither knew how long you were like this, but you both agreed that it had been long enough to discover that you needed more of each other.

Oscar ended up forcing himself to pull away from you and take a breath. A smile curved between his lips, which caused you, somewhat nervously, to giggle at the situation and hug him around the waist, pulling him closer to you while trying not to shove him away.

“Really, we don't have to do it if you don't want to, Y/N,” the McLaren driver insisted once again.

“I've been looking forward to doing this for a long time, and I've been mentally preparing for it for a while,” she told him, trying not to sound uneasy. “I trust you, Osc, and there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“So...?”

“I want you to make me yours, Oscar. Today, tomorrow or whenever and wherever you want,” you whispered in his ear as sensually as you could.

“Y/N…”

“Oscar: I just want you to fuck me.”

You felt your boyfriend tense up after those words that had caught even you off guard. Instinctively, you brought your hand to the noticeable bulge under Oscar's pants, but when you tried to reach for the button to unbutton them, he pushed your hands away lovingly.

“No, honey, none of that for now. Today is your day, so let me do the work and just enjoy yourself.”

Oscar, without another word, took you by the chin and kissed you again for the umpteenth time that day. Now, your lips moved at a slower speed. You guessed it was because you noticed how one of Oscar's hands began to massage one of your breasts, giving special attention to the nipple. With the other, he lightly brushed your pussy, making you gasp when he decided to play with your clit.

“Do you like it, babe?” he asked in a tone of voice that showed too much excitement.

His fingers now delved a little deeper into your intimacy, those enveloping movements becoming a little faster.

“Yes, Osc...” you barely managed to answer.

That answer was enough for the Australian to stop immediately. You didn't even look him in the face. Oscar pulled away from you, leaving a quick kiss on your lips and starting a trail of kisses all over your body, stopping once he reached your lower stomach area.

“Y/N…”

His hands stood delicately on your thighs, which he was now kissing, closer and closer to your pussy. Your hair stood on end. Your breath was completely held, unable to breathe in case that put an end to it all, as if that would be enough for Oscar to finish whatever he was doing with you.

“If anything we do tonight makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop, just tell me please,” the Australian declared. “And, before your little head starts thinking nonsense: no, I'm not going to get mad at you because you don't want to have sex, okay? If you don't want to…”

“Oscar, look at me,” you cut him off, and the boy immediately listened to you: “it's you, and I'm not going to feel uncomfortable with you and with anything you do to me.”

“Do you promise me, love?”

“I swear.”

Oscar nodded, grabbing your thighs again and dragging you to the edge of the bed so that his face was in front of your pussy, perfectly aligned with your entrance.

Without warning, he slid his tongue, flat, all over it with a slowness that was completely unbearable and that seemed that, rather than pleasing you, he wanted to kill you little by little. His movements were frantic; constant changes of speed, from faster to slower, and vice versa, that made his nose rub against your clit while his tongue seemed to do wonders with that dance.

When Oscar's tongue began to explore inside you, and his index finger, the one he used to show on camera every time he got a first position just like Sebastian Vettel did in his golden age, started a tortuous tour of your labia majora, you curled up shyly but instinctively. Your hands ended up tangled in his hair, forcing him closer to you at the same time your hips did the same.

“I think you're liking it, aren't you my little girl?” Piastri said, ending his oral contact with you and replacing it with his finger. His gaze was fixed on her, and you thought about why he hadn't done this to you before.

“Don't stop, Osc. For the sake of God, don't even think about stopping...” you gasped, becoming increasingly unable to articulate a word.

He didn't have to say anything else. After those words, Oscar slipped a second finger inside you. You let out a small gasp of surprise and he, without taking his eyes off you, laughed, your cheeks turning red almost instantly. Despite this, he kissed your thighs as he continued the back and forth with his index finger, adding his heart almost soon after while increasing even more the speed.

You felt that everything was going too fast, and the waves of pleasure that were flooding you were making you lose, more and more, the notion of time. You didn't know at what point, but when he decided to add his tongue back into the equation, without leaving the movements of his fingers inside you going straight to that spot that gave you the most pleasure, a strange sensation gripped the lower part of your stomach.

It was getting harder and harder for you to hold back your orgasm. You felt how your eyes were closing little by little, and your leg, too, to which Oscar put a little pressure on them to prevent them from closing.

“Come for me, love,” Oscar let you know. “Come on, Y/N, you've got it babe. Come on…”

And so you did.

Your back curved in such a way that your body, completely sweaty, could hardly keep on writhing as it was doing. You were moaning like you had never moaned before, and your boyfriend seemed to notice. A smirk of satisfaction and success began to break from his lips as he licked at your fluids, his mouth moving slowly now, over-stimulating your clit and making you incessantly.

The Australian rose and carefully positioned himself on top of you.

“I love you, Y/N, you don't know how much,” he said between kisses, making you taste yourself for the first time, but hopefully not the last one. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world... And the best girl in the world. Don't ever doubt it.”

“Oscar, don't…”

“Yes you are, Y/N, and I will not allow you to speak so negatively about yourself.”

After those last words, the driver pulled away from you slightly, trying yo give you some time to recover. Then, you looked at him taking what seemed to be a condom from the bedside table, which he carefully put on and immediately positioned at your entrance.

You swallowed, while Oscar tried not to think about whether he was really going too fast.

·I don't want to sound weird, but... please, if you want me to stop, just tell me,” Oscar spoke as best he could, trying not to succumb to the nerves he felt about taking this important step with you. “I want you to be pretty sure about this since… Well, since there’s not going back…”

You said nothing. Instead, you gave him a slight nod with your head, still looking at him, which was enough for Oscar to enter you carefully, but without a previous warning.

He decided to stand for a while so you could get used to his length. You felt a little pain. You held back a scream, bit your lips and closed your eyes to do your best to make that feeling go away as soon as possible.

“Y/N…”

“Go on, Oscar. It's all right…”

The boy nodded, and finished entering you with the same care. Little by little, his movements gained speed. You arched your back, moaning incessantly as she started feeling more comfortable with the depth of penetration, and Oscar hitting her in a spot that made her feel a pleasure that you feel in a way you didn’t know how to describe, but that felt good enough to make you never want that sex session to end.

“Does it feel good, honey? Are you enjoying my... cock... for the first time?” Oscar moaned, biting her neck. “Look at you… so desperate for me to keep fucking you…”

“Fuck, Oscar... this is a fantasy,” you gasped. “And you talking so... like… like this... God... Don't stop, please…”

“Never for you, sweetheart.”

Your moans became one, a melody that your neighbors were probably listening to but you didnt give a fuck. Your gazes could hardly be averted, and your words, getting dirtier and dirtier as much as your were embarrassed at first, were sounding louder and louder, as were your pleas.

“Oscar!” you shrieked as you felt Oscar's fingers press against you nervous bundle.”

“Love...” he moaned through his teeth. ”Don't stop moaning my name, please. You don't know how you're making me feel right now.

·And of course I'm going to make you feel so much better when we do this again,” you replied, choking with pleasure. As best you could, you sat up a little and wrapped you arms around you boyfriend's neck. “I want to do it again, Osc,” you made it clear. “I want us to do this every time we get the chance....”

You kept moaning his name, giving him promises you knew he would never break. He kept reassuring you and how good you were doing, speeding up his movements as he couldn’t stop playing with your clit, all of that while he kept telling you that you were his.

You couldn't contain it anymore for the second time that day.

“Fuck, Osc,” he stammered. “I think I'm gonna…”

“Let yourself go, honey,” the brown-haired said. “You can do it, love. Cum for me.”

Your orgasm came before you could say anything else. Oscar came within seconds of you, and as soon as he did he ended, he gave you a short kiss on the lips as he carefully pulled out of heyour and collapsed beside you.

Oscar's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to regain your composure with increasingly slower breaths.

“You ok babe?” Oscar murmured after a few minutes.

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding your head with a smile peeking out. “Better than ever, actually.”

It was then that it dawned on Oscar. Quickly, he sat up a little and saw what was under where you were still positioned. His heart began to race, and a pressure settled in his chest as he realized the light blue bed sheets were stained slightly with blood as was his condom, still on him and which he hadn't paid attention to because he just wanted to be with you cuddling after he'd made you lose your virginity.

“Hey, listen, love…” he started to say in a calm, but concerned tone.

You followed his gaze, and couldn't help but blush and die of embarrassment inside.

“Oh...” you spoke quietly, instinctively covering yourself with the sheets. “This... is normal. Well, I guess so…”

“Does it hurt? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, denying it, though the look on your face seemed to say otherwise.

“Well… It's just a little... just a little sore. But it's fine, really. It happens when you have sex for the first time with someone.”

Oscar studied your face, and he knew you wanted to stop this conversation. You wanted to let it go and pretend everything was fine so you wouldn't give him any sign that you hadn't liked it, even though your moans and pleas seemed to say otherwise.

“Still, you shouldn't let it go.”

The Australian approached you and gave you a shy kiss on the forehead. Then he got out of bed, still naked.

·Where are you going?” you asked in a voice mixed with curiosity and nervousness.

“I'm going to get a towel with hot water to clean you up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already heading towards the bathroom while taking off his condom. As you heard the faucet turn on, and your boyfriend getting everything ready, you couldn't help but feel bad because, maybe, Oscar deserved better, and your behavior, what was happening to you now, was not what he deserved.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking because if there’s one thing you knew for sure is that Oscar loved you, more than sometimes you were conscious of.

Your boyfriend came back a few minutes later, and found you sitting on the bed, curled up on yourself and clinging to the sheets while still covering with them, as if you were afraid.

“You don't have to…”

“I know,” Oscar cut you off, offering you a small smile, “but I want to. So, please, just let me take care of you.”

Your eyes softened at his proposal, and you forced yourself to calm down as Oscar, with his gaze and his hands coyly on your thighs, asked your permission to spread your legs. You nodded, and he carefully ran the wet towel and hot water over your pussy, giving it little touches because he didn't want to risk it stinging or hurting any more because he really didn't know exactly how the female body worked after losing your virginity.

When he finished, he kissed her knee and sat down next to her again, also covering himself with the sheets so he could hug her and, more than anything else, try to reassure her and make her feel as good as possible.

“There, that's it, all settled. Now, let's stay here and rest.”

“Was it good?”

Oscar let out a small laugh from his mouth at your sudden question as he leaned over to you and snuggled into your shoulder.

”You've been amazing, love,” he replied, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Now you were both lying on your bed, looking at each other. “Are you okay now that… Did I hurt you? I need you to be honest with me... I should have asked you if you liked the pace I decided to take because, well, I’m not going to lie to you, I think I could have gone a little slower...”

You shook your head and didn't give him a chance to keep talking. Instead, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his.

“You don't have to worry about anything, Osc. It was far from perfect. So, from now on, I hope you win more races because from today on, winning sex has become a tradition that I hope we keep for a long time.”

Oscar laughed, knowing you were completely serious.

“We can make a tradition of this and anything else you want, love,” he buried his face in yours, and began to tickle your waist gently. “We can even have several rounds if you want, so… thoughts on that? Should we keep ready for a second round today?”

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brokebonewritings · 5 months ago

Text

The Moon’s Petal

Steven Grant x Fem! Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Falling in Love, Regency Era

Summary: The most interesting match of the season has caught the eye of the ton. The story of Steven Grant falling in love with the Diamond of the Season.

Word Count: 8.2K

A/N: You may notice of shift in writing styles in this piece and it's because I initially wrote this almost 3 years ago haha this is just a warning for that. Also, I think this might be my longest piece to date...I hope you all enjoy! xx

Navigation | Masterlist

Dearest Readers,

Even my most dedicated readers will know that this author is prompt to deliver the latest news of society. For those wondering what is in store for this edition, I have the most delightful surprise for you.

Mr. Grant has finally sparked a conversation with several ladies of the ton. One, in which this author believes would be a most auspicious match, was none other than the Diamond of the Season. Although this gentleman has failed to spark any sort of conversation in the past, the laughter heard from the crowd was a delight to any matchmaking mama.

This author wonders if this social season will be much different for the gentleman. One can only assume that Mr. Steven Grant has had a change of mind, and is finally in need of companionship. For now, I shall watch closely to see if any relationship shall develop between this gentleman and one of our most beautiful ladies.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

30 March 1815

“My God,” Steven gawked as he read the rest of the paper. He was never one for such gossip, however this edition made the man more interested than most. It seemed that one conversation had sparked so much gossip between the ladies of the ton.

Looking over at his reflection, he sees Marc shake his head.

You’re an absolute idiot for reading that shit. He could hear Marc say.

“Well I think it is absolutely interesting how we could be the spark of any sort of scandal.” Steven quipped back.

Scandal? Talking to a lady is hardly a scandal. How about when they find out there are three of us in one body. Marc’s comment made Steven sit back in his chair. He never considered having to actually tell someone of their predicament. Not even the most lovely lady he met at the ball the night before.

Her eyes dazzled as he spoke to her about his travels, and his silly nonsense. When she had finally asked him to dance, he happily gave her his arm. Though, their walk through the garden that same evening ended with hushed goodbyes.

Steven dazed about the rest of the day, wondering if he would ever see his lady again. As interested as he was in her, he never quite asked for her name. A mistake he regretted instantly.

Only a few blocks down, you sat in your drawing room with your family and chatted happily about the night before. Your mama seemed most pleased with the amount of calls you were receiving. However, there was one you wanted most of all.

“Darling, you mustn’t stare off like that. It could be seen as impolite.” Your mother stated as she took another sip of her tea.

“Yes, mama.” You replied, though you couldn't help but wonder if that was something he would find impolite. Even as the both of you spoke the prior evening he often stared into the night sky as if he was in a trance.

You could never forget it though, surely he would find you at the next event, and surely he would be the one to ask you to dance. Of course it was never a guarantee, but the feeling in your stomach told you otherwise.

Continuing on with your day, you attended to the gentlemen calls that intrigued your mother. Most of these men just spoke of their interests and what they would want to see in you. This bored you to death. Of course you were a fantastic listener, but it was feeling just a bit tedious at this point.

Toward midday, when there were no more calls, you made your way to the center of town to enjoy the sights of the people passing by. You were escorted by your family, however it was nice to get some fresh air. You often brought your notebook to study other people’s characteristics. Knowing every sort by name.

While strolling with your family, you notice a man on the other side of the street walking briskly. It wasn’t that you were intentionally staring, but you were a bit curious at the hurried behavior of this gentleman. At closer glance you notice it was him. The man you had been swooning and dreaming about the night before.

As he disappears into a small shop, you tug at your father’s sleeve.

“Papa, What is that shop over there?” You ask, with the motive of manipulating your father to go inside and see. He turns his head in the direction you are pointing and chuckles a bit.

“My darling, that is just a stationary shop. I believe it had just opened up about a week ago. Are you in need of new quills?” He asked.

You nod your head when, in fact, you do not need any more stationary items. All you wanted was to see and perhaps speak to the man you strolled with the night before. Your father tasked your oldest brother to escort you into the shop.

Marc hurried into the shop, checking his whereabouts before stepping inside. They had just received word earlier that day that a special visitor would be arriving later that week. Not that his parents were that special of visitors, it was just that he hated having to share his home with others. Even if it was for an afternoon.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears the bells on the door chime. Usually he’s not too curious about who comes in and out, but something compelled him to look around the stand he was staring at. A gentleman and a young woman step inside the shop. He knew the man, but he couldn’t quite remember where he saw the woman.

Turning his head, he catches a glimpse of Steven in the glass. He’s gawking at her in awe. Oh shit.

“Steven, is that the girl from last night?” Marc said quietly.

She’s a Benette?

Marc looks back quickly to confirm she was indeed standing with Lord Howard Benette, the oldest son of the Benette family.

“What’s the big problem? You’ve hunted with Howard multiple times.”

Yes, but… I didn’t know that was his sister

“I’m gonna go talk to him” Marc said, quickly turning his attention towards the man and his supposed sister. Steven did have a point. He danced with the girl all night anyways. There should be no problem talking him up to the brother.

The two were looking at quills when Marc approached them, the girl seemed surprised but the man was delighted to see the other gentleman.

“Mr. Grant! How delightful to see you. What are you doing here in town?” Howard shook his hand as Marc tried to collect his thoughts.

“I could ask you the same, Benette. It’s not everyday you see the Lord walking around.” Marc tried to mimic Steven’s accent, but it was not very good.

“Yes, well, a family outing is long overdue. Speaking of, Mr. Grant, please meet my sister, y/n.” He brings his attention to the girl standing on his side. When Marc looks over he notices you staring at him with the most wonderstruck eyes.

“Good Afternoon Miss Benette.” Marc smiles softly at you, taking a small bow. You giggle and nod back at him.

“Hello Mr. Grant. Lovely to make your acquaintance.” As you spoke, Marc realized what Steven had seen in you. Why he had fallen head over heels. You really were a lovely sight to behold. Your skin looked soft, your hair was long and pinned up in curls, and you had the sweetest smile.

I know what you’re thinking, and I will accept an apology later.

This comment made Marc smirk. There were times he wished he couldn’t hear Steven (Or Jake for that matter) rambling in their head.

“Lord Benette, I do believe I met your sister last night at the ball. I must insist on a call tomorrow.” Marc said with a smile on his face.

Wait. What? He heard Steven scream in his head. He did exactly what he knew Steven wouldn’t, and now the other had to deal with that.

“Oh that would be a wonderful thing, don’t you agree?” Howard turned his attention towards you and Marc saw the smile spread across your face widen.

“That sounds like a wonderful time. I look forward to your call, Mr. Grant.” With that last comment, you turned and walked out the store. Howard said his goodbye and followed behind you.

A warning would have been nice, yeah? Steven grunted

Marc rushed to buy the stationary he needed and left the store. He couldn’t help giving Steven that small nudge. He needed it anyway. Hopefully, Steven doesn’t fuck it up this time.

Dearest Readers,

It has come to my attention that a flame has been set ablaze. Mister Steven Grant may have begun his courtship with our beloved diamond! How exhilarating this romance must seem, however to the other suitors this will be a very sad moment. It seems that this match, in which I predicted to be the very best, has been the gossip of almost every household of the ton. May we be seeing the bloom of a beautiful proposal, or the raging of a fire that will be sadly blown out by a storm? The answer, dear reader, may surprise you. My watchful eye has been and will always be trained to spot each rise and downfall. That being said, I will continue to watch this romance and update you with the latest thread.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

1 April, 1815

“Ugh, that woman makes me want to tear my hair out!” You hear your mother say as she sets the paper on the table in front of her.

“What do you mean, Mama?” You hear your older sister say. Looking up from your tea you see your mother waving the paper around.

“This Whistledown woman is exasperating! She either loves this match or she doesn’t! She must make up her mind.” Hearing this comment makes you stand up immediately. Doing so makes everyone in the room turn in your direction.

“I- I must be getting ready. I do believe Mr. Grant said he would call on me around noon.” You turn and leave the room. Once you turned the corner of the hall, you backed against the wall taking a deep breath.

You couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. All thanks to your brother officially introducing him to you. The butterflies you felt in your stomach were very much real. However, you could only hope that he would court you properly.

Making it to your room finally, your lady maid, Emma, helped you pick out a very pretty lavender dress. Your hair was done in curls and pinned up to the latest fashion. When you were fully ready, you had to do the hardest thing of all. Wait.

Not that you were an impatient girl, you were just too excited for Mr. Grant to call on you. Dancing with him at the Masquerade had been the highlight of your evening, and you didn’t want to dance with anyone else after.

You walked back down to the parlor room to show your mother the dress you and Emma had picked out for the gentleman’s call. She looked absolutely delighted when you did a full turn.

“Oh blessed, You truly are the Diamond of the Season.” She raved. “Look how beautiful you are.”

“I truly cannot wait another minute, mama.” You said.

“Patience, my dear, He shall be here soon.” She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Your brother shall also be here any minute to chaperone you both.”

You blushed lightly, the rose dusting on your cheeks only enhanced this. This was actually about to happen. You really couldn’t believe it. Sitting down, you waited quietly until your brother came and gave you a talk of what was about to happen.

On the other side of town, Steven paced his office in nervousness. He had never courted a woman before, let alone talked to the most beautiful person he has seen in his life.

Would you stop with the pacing for five minutes? It was Marc, and he sounded very annoyed.

“I just don’t think I can do this” He quivered. “Why did you get me into this mess?”

Because you need to find a wife before we die alone. Marc spat. Or would you rather we never find love?

Steven shook his head. Of course he didn’t want to die alone, without any kids or family of his own.

“What if she doesn’t take the news of all of us well though?” Steven looked in the mirror. He could see Marc’s reflection looking back at him. It wasn’t his usual hard look. Steven could tell he was deep in thought.

He took a look at the golden plate sitting on the shelf and saw Jake staring back at him.

How about we take turns courting her? Jake stated. This made Steven perk up a bit. That could actually work, and Jake never really stepped in unless both he and Marc were having trouble with their thoughts.

Looking back at the plate, Steven saw Marc shrug and nod his head.

“Yeah alright, then, that sounds like it could actually work!” Steven said excitedly. “I could go first and Marc could give it a go, and Jake can if he really feels like it!”

Steven. The time. Marc got his attention.

Steven looked at his pocket watch and realized he needed to get going. He took a deep breath, and left his office. He alerted the staff that he was going out and he would be back later that evening.

As he approached the Benette residence, he could feel the pit of his stomach be set ablaze by the pure excitement of officially courting you.

Once the carriage stopped, he stepped out into the crisp spring air, and made his way towards the door. Stopping to take a deep breath, he knocked three times and waited for the butler to answer.

The door opened and there stood a stout older gentleman awaiting his arrival.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grant. I believe Lord and Lady Benette have been expecting you.” The old man stepped aside to let Steven in.

Once inside, the older man led him to the entrance of the parlor where everyone had been waiting for his arrival.

“May I introduce, Mr. Steven Grant, here for Miss Benette.” He announced to the room and left hurriedly.

Steven stepped into the door and bowed to everyone in the room.

“Good Morning, Lord and Lady Benette.” He stutterd lightly. “Happy to make your acquaintance.”

Lord Benette stood from his seat and walked over to Steven extending his hand. Steven took and shook his hand firmly.

“Very nice! Very nice handshake, young man!” The gray haired man said. “I admire that about another man, a nice firm handshake shows promise!”

Then Lady Benette stood and walked over to Steven. She smiled at him as he bowed to her and gently grabbed her hand.

“What a gentleman indeed.” She quipped. “You must tell me where you learned such excellent manners.”

“My Governess was one of a kind, my lady.” He chuckled.

Great charm, Steven. Keep it up. Steven could hear Marc say. This really began to boost his confidence.

“Let me go fetch our daughter, she has been waiting all morning for you.” She laughed.

As she left the room, Howard entered and his face brightened at the sight of Steven.

“Grant! Good to see you this morning!” He said then turned to his father. “Father, Steven Grant and I were schoolmates in Brighton!”

“Is that so? Tell me, young man, what did you study and what do you do?” Lord Benette inquired.

“I studied Archaeology, My Lord. I find it absolutely fascinating discovering ancient relics and cities.” He said truthfully. “I am currently a curator at the British Museum in London, sir”

Lord Benette seemed pleased by his answer. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They all continued to talk while they awaited the young lady to arrive.

Once you had entered the room, Steven noticed immediately. He turned fully to face and bowed to you. You curtsied back to him as he made his way towards you. Extending your hand to him and he happily took it and kissed your knuckles.

“Good Afternoon, Miss Benette.” Steven said awfully quiet. He was just taken aback by your beauty.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Grant.” You replied, a light blush spreading across your face.

After a brief moment of staring at each other. Howard stepped in and cleared his throat.

“We should probably get a move on if we want to catch the Hot Air Balloons taking off.” He stated.

“Ah yes, we probably shall then.” Steven agreed and turned to Lord Benette once more. “It was an honor to meet you sir.”

“Please, this was a pleasure! I shall see you soon, my boy!” He chuckled happily.

Steven held his hand out to you, which you happily took. He helped her into the carriage following after your brother. This was turning out to be an excellent call. Something he never thought once would happen.

The carriage pulled up to the airfield and once Steven had exited the car, he helped you out onto the grassy area. It wasn’t too hot outside, but you definitely feel the sun blazing your skin. Though seeing all the large balloons getting ready to fly took your mind off of the heat.

Your brother and Steven chatted for a bit, and then Howard left to chat with another one of his friends leaving both you and Steven alone for a brief moment.

“Miss Benette, if I may ask, were you excited for this visit today?” Steven asked bluntly. You were honestly a little surprised by the question.

“Yes, very. I did rather fancy being able to see you again after the last ball.” You blushed. You could see him smile at your comment.

“I was eager to see you again, but not knowing your name put me in a very hard predicament.” He replied. What an idiot you were. Of course you forgot to tell this man your name. However, no sense of dwelling on that now.

“Now let me ask you something, Mr. Grant.” You started. “What are things you like to do for fun?”

Now it was finally your turn to learn about him and his background. This excited you. Learning how he was an archaeologist, and how he talked about the ancient Egyptians and Egyptian gods. He was very fascinating.

Once he was done, he asked about you in return. You told him of your hobbies, how many languages you spoke, and how you had always wanted to travel. When the conversation seemed to falter, you saw the gleam in his eyes change slightly.

“Do you speak any other languages?” You ask out of curiosity.

He nodded and cleared his throat.

“I know Spanish, French, and Arabic. It is something I am passionate about.” He said, though you noticed his accent had changed just a bit. It wasn’t enough to concern you though.

You both talked more about his travels and education. You even learned that he had been to Africa on an expedition to find an ancient temple.

“Would you ever take me on an expedition, Mr. Grant?” You asked him and grabbed onto his arm. Once again, his eyes changed at a moment's notice.

“If it is not too dangerous, we can discuss the option to.” He stared and smiled slightly at you.

This was exhilarating to talk about. The potential to travel the world with someone who could very much fall in love with and marry. You glance over and notice that he is staring at you intensely. When he notices you looking back, he smiles and holds out his arm.

You both begin to walk around the field, speaking to the pilots of the Hot Air Balloons. This was the highlight of your day. After a few hours, you both head back to the viewing area to watch them lift off. Howard is there waiting for the both of you, with a big smile spread across his face.

He and Steven spoke about the mechanics on the Balloons and you stood and listened to their conversation. All you could feel at the moment was absolute joy. When it was finally time to go you all headed back to the carriage and went on your way.

You all made it back to your residence, and you began to realize this was the end of your visit. It made you sad to think about. When you all had exited the carriage, it was time to say goodbye. Steven chatted with your brother a bit before turning to you.

“Miss Benette, if I may ask, would you accompany me to the next ball?” He asked. “If that is acceptable with your older brother?”

Howard smiled brightly, “Indeed it is! What do you say to Mr. Grant’s request?” Your brother turned to you questioningly.

“It would be an absolute pleasure, Mr. Grant.” You say as you smile at him. He smiles warmly back at you. And with a tip of his hat, he was gone. It was sad watching him leave, however, now you were truly excited for the ball coming in two days time.

Once you and your brother got back inside, he began to question how the visit went while he was away.

“So! Tell me! You like him, do you not?” He asked playfully.

“Howard! Shh!” You giggled. “It is true. I do have quite a fondness for him.”

“Then it is settled. I will not allow any other man to come between the two of you.” He stated. “I will go speak with him tomorrow about it.”

You smile.”And what of mama and papa?”

“I believe that they already approve of this match.” He said matter of factly.

“Is that so?” You wondered.

You walk back to the parlor, daydreaming of your future with Mr. Steven Grant.

The next few days flew by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it Steven was standing in a crowded room of people he had barely met, waiting for you to arrive. To say that he was excited was very much an understatement.

Everything was going smoothly. He had spoken to a few of his colleagues and dodged hopeless mamas in search of any man to hand their daughters off to.

Then you finally arrived. Your brother was the one who found him first. Giving Steven a firm pat on the back.

“Good to see you again, Old Friend!” He shouted happily. “How are you feeling tonight?”

“A bit nervous, but I am excited to see where tonight takes us.” Steven replied. “I’m glad we spoke the other day.”

Howard bowed his head. Steven knew that his old friend wanted nothing but the best for them. His sister finally joined them as they were speaking in hushed voices.

“Mr. Grant, lovely to see you again.” You curtsied at him and he bowed back in response.

“Miss Benette, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said in awe, earning a blush that was slowly creeping onto the apples of your cheeks. “Would you care for a dance?”

“I would be delighted.” You reply quickly.

The music started to play softly as Steven took you to the dance floor. In a moment, Marc took over since he was the more coordinating dancer of the lot. He tried to keep their expression soft to mimic Stevens. He concentrated on you as they waltzed around the dance floor with the other patrons of the ball.

He was indeed having fun with you. For the first time, in a very long time, he genuinely smiled. This sparked a flame within Marc as such as the first time you danced with Steven. Now there were two of them falling deeply in love with the woman in front of them.

Once the song ended, they both bowed to each other and smiled. There was definitely a connection between the two people. Marc extended his hand and took you to the balcony. It was quiet and there were barely any people around. She rested her head against his shoulder as they stared at the stars together.

Are you ready for this, mate? Marc heard Steven ask. He took a deep breath and nodded slightly before letting Steven take back over.

Don’t fuck this up. Marc said before Steven began to talk.

“Miss Benette?” Steven asked before pulling away from you. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”

She turned to look at him, a bit confused.

“You can tell me anything, Mr. Grant.” She smiled.

“Well, the truth is, I came out here with you to propose.” He stated. He saw her face light up instantly. “But I do need to tell you the truth about something rather serious.”

He could tell you were confused by the way your eyebrows knitted together. Marc did the same thing when he was confused.

“It’s not the easiest thing to speak of, but I have been going through this ever since I was a child.”

“Steven.” You said softly. This made him look up at you. “Please tell me everything.”

So that’s where he began. He told you about his brother, and his mother. The trauma that he had experienced as a child. And now the moment of truth.

“Oh Steven, that sounds awful, I am so sorry.” You rubbed his arm.

“I just, there is one more thing about it all.” He took a deep breath. “I have two other separate personalities inside of me.”

Now you definitely looked confused.

“I do not understand, what do you mean by that?” You asked.

“I mean, There are two other people inside of this one mind.” He explained softly. “There are technically three of us.”

“You must be jesting.” You giggled.

“Miss Benette, I am being quite serious.” It was Marc who took over. You saw the gleam change in his eyes and then you finally understood.

“Wait, so then if there are three of you in one mind, then are they all called Steven Grant?” You asked quite seriously. You were trying to understand the whole situation, which they understood completely.

“No, Steven Grant is just the main one.” Marc spoke, turning towards you. “My name is Marc, Marc Spector. We just danced in the ballroom together.”

Your mouth was gaped open. You really couldn’t believe what you were witnessing.

“I knew there was something off about your dancing.” You stated. “It didn’t seem like Steven at all.”

“You would be correct about that statement, mi corazón.” The sudden change of voice made you jump.

“And now are you the third one?” You looked at him puzzled.

“Si, the third and final one. Jake Lockely, at your service, princesa.” He bowed at you.

This was all so much for you to take in. You didn’t know where to begin.

“Can I.. Can I speak to Steven?” You asked softly. He nodded and then in a flash you saw Steven’s eyes brighten back into himself.

As he looked into your eyes, he saw the glimpse of tears beginning to form. Without thinking, he brought a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Hey there, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, but you needed to know.” He tried soothing you. “I didn’t want you to say yes and it be hidden for our entire lives.”

You sniffled as he explained. It did make a lot more sense. Something you always valued was honesty, just like you saw between your own mother and father.

“I accept then.” You announce.

“Pardon?” Steven looked to you in confusion.

“I accept your proposal.” You respond a little more clearly.

“You do?” He asks and you nod. “You do! Oh blessed!”

He takes you by the waist and lifts you into a spin. You giggle in delight as he sets you down.

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” He agrees.

“This must be kept between only us, and you must announce who is speaking until I can figure you all out”

“We accept this condition.”

Dearest Readers,

It seems that my trained eyes were correct. An engagement between this season’s Diamond and Mr. Steven Grant has been officially announced. Though this news comes two weeks later, I am delighted to say this marriage will be held tomorrow in the beautiful garden of the Benette Residency. Those with invitations will be sure to witness a beautiful ceremony, and reception.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

4 May, 1815

You stood on the pedestal as the seamstress added the finishing touches to your wedding dress. The day you had waited for finally arrived. As you took in the intricate details of your gown, a knock on the door interrupted the quiet room. It swung open to reveal your brother, Howard, with a warm smile on his face.

"You look radiant, dear sister," Howard praised as he stepped into the room. "Are you ready for this momentous occasion?"

Turning to him, your eyes glistened with joyful tears. “It still feels like a dream.”

Your brother chuckled softly and approached you, adjusting a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, this dream is about to become a beautiful reality. Steven is a good man, and I have no doubt that he will make you happy.”

As Howard's words sank in, a sense of calm washed over you. You were grateful for your brother's support and understanding. The journey to this moment had been filled with unexpected twists and turns, but here you were, on the brink of a new chapter in your life.

"Yes, he is a good man," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. "And I am ready to embark on this new adventure with him."

Howard's eyes gleamed with pride as he took your hands in his. "Remember, no matter what challenges may come your way, you have the strength and resilience to overcome them. And you will always have family who loves you unconditionally."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you embraced your brother. His unwavering support meant the world to you, especially on a day as significant as this. As you pulled away, a knock at the door. You both look up to see your mother standing there.

With a soft smile, your mother entered the room, her eyes filled with tears of joy at the sight of her daughter in her wedding dress. She walked towards you, her steps deliberate yet filled with love and pride.

"My dearest child," she began, her voice trembling. "You look absolutely stunning. I cannot believe how quickly time has passed, and now you are about to start this new chapter of your life."

You embraced your mother, feeling her warmth and love enveloping you. The three of you stood there in a moment of shared happiness and anticipation for the future.

"Mama, Howard," you said, your voice filled with gratitude. "I am so thankful to have both of you by my side today. Your love and support mean everything to me."

As the three of you shared a tender embrace, the sound of distant music and muffled chatter reached your ears. The realization that the ceremony was about to begin spread a wave of excitement through the room.

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture and met the loving gazes of your mother and brother. They offered you reassuring smiles, filling you with a sense of calm.

"It's time," your mother said softly. "Let's make our way to the garden.”

Taking your brother’s arm, you made your way through the corridors of your home. The soft rustle of your gown against the marble floors seemed to echo your heartbeat as it quickened with each step.

As you approached the double doors leading to the garden, they swung open, revealing a breathtaking scene.

The garden was transformed into a fairytale setting, with an array of colorful flowers adorning every corner. The soft scent of roses and lilies mingled in the air, creating an ambiance of pure enchantment. Guests were seated in white chairs, their eyes eagerly awaiting the arrival of the bride.

As you stepped out into the sunlight, a hush fell over the audience. All eyes were on you, the vision of beauty and grace walking down the aisle. Your heart swelled as you locked eyes with Steven at the altar. His eyes filled with love, and for the first time you knew for sure it was Steven.

The gentle melody of a string quartet filled the air as you made your way towards your beloved. Every step felt like a dream, and time seemed to stand still as you reached the end of the aisle.

He looked at you with such tenderness and adoration that tears welled up in your eyes.

Steven extended his hand towards you, a wide smile spreading across his face. Taking his hand in yours, you could barely hear his whisper over the pounding of your heart. “You look absolutely stunning.” His soft voice reaching your ears. “I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my bride.”

You smile gently to him and whisper back, “And I am the luckiest bride in the world to have you become my husband.”

The officiant began the ceremony, the sounds of nature seemed to join in as well. Birds sang in harmony as you both exchanged vows. The words spoken were filled with love and promises for a future together, a future you and Steven both dreamed of.

When the time came to exchange rings, Steven took your hand in his, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you. The ring slid easily onto your finger, a symbol of his commitment and love for you. Then came your turn to place the ring on his finger, sealing your own vows with a promise of forever.

As the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, cheers erupted from your guests, filling the garden with jubilant energy. Steven pulled you close, his lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss. The electricity of the kiss sent a shiver down your spine. You were disappointed when he finally pulled away.

“Later, my love.” The change in his voice didn’t startle you. Just like you had recognized Steven earlier, you knew this was Marc. You smiled shyly at your husband and nodded.

The reception was a celebration of love and joy, with guests laughing and dancing under the twinkling lights that adorned the garden. You and Steven danced together, your heart overflowing with happiness at the realization of your love for each other.

Nearby, Howard raised his glass for a toast, his voice clear and filled with emotion. "To my dear sister and her charming husband, Steven. May your love continue to grow stronger with each passing day, and may your days be filled with laughter and joy."

The guests echoed their approval with heartfelt cheers, and you felt a surge of gratitude for the love and support that surrounded you. As the evening progressed, you found yourself stealing glances at Steven who seemed to navigate the crowd effortlessly.

He caught your eye from across the room and smiled warmly at you. Making your way through the throng of well-wishers, you finally stood face to face with your new husband.

“We should announce our leave, darling.” He said softly.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a tinge of nervousness about what the future of the night held. As Steven led you through the crowd towards the center of the garden, the guests gradually quieted down, turning their attention towards you both.

Steven raised his glass, the tinkling sound cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Friends and family," he began, his voice carrying with warmth. "We want to thank each and every one of you for being here today to witness our union. Your presence has made this day even more special, and we are truly grateful."

You watched as Steven's eyes nervously scanned the faces before him, his gaze finally settling on you with a look that spoke volumes. Clearing his throat lightly, he continued, "As we embark on this journey together as husband and wife, we are filled with hope for a future filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. We are incredibly blessed to have such wonderful people in our lives.”

There was a round of applause from the guests, their faces beaming with happiness for you and Steven. You felt a swell of emotion in your chest, overwhelmed by the love and support surrounding you on this magical day.

Within those few short moments of saying goodbye to your family, you felt the nerves of traveling across town to your new home to melt away as you and Steven climbed into the carriage.

The carriage ride was a quiet one, with only the sounds of the horses' hooves against the cobblestone streets breaking the silence. You sat close to Steven, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as if to reassure you.

You couldn't help but steal glances at your husband. The dim light of the lanterns cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face. Steven caught your gaze and offered you a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the love and affection he held for you.

“Is there something on my face, love?” He asks as you continued to stare.

“Oh!” You blush, and look away quickly. “No, nothing of the sort.”

“Were you just admiring?” His voice changed slightly causing you to look back.

You smile, “Of course.”

This caused Marc to chuckle, and reach out to take your hand. Bringing your knuckles to his lips he kisses them softly. There is a small gap of your lips as he does so.

“Will I be spending our first night with you, Marc?”

He seemed a bit surprised that you said his name. However his shock was replaced with a hint of a dark tint in his eyes. “No, my dear, not unless that is your request.”

You giggle, “Maybe another time. I would very much like Steven to be the consummator of this marriage.”

“As you wish.” He smiles, and the softness returns to Steven’s eyes.

“There you are, darling.” You say softly.

The carriage rolls to a stop in front of an elegant townhouse adorned with ivy climbing up its brick exterior. As you step out onto the cobblestone path, Steven's hand reaches out and you take it instinctively.

The door opens, revealing a warmly lit foyer with flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. Steven guides you inside, his presence a comforting anchor to your oncoming nerves. In the hallway of the home, a few servants stand and Steven introduces you to each of them. Your new lady’s maid is a small older woman with a gentle smile.

After the brief introductions, he leads you up the staircase to the bedroom you both will be sharing. You felt a slight shake in your hands as you realized what was about to happen. Your mother had explained how the marriage will be sealed on your first night alone. You didn’t want to admit how nervous it made you feel.

As you entered the bedroom, you saw the warm glow of the fireplace. The soft colors and flowers on the bedside table put a bit of ease over you. Steven led you to the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with tenderness and understanding. He could sense your apprehension and paused, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Darling, there is no need to rush anything tonight,” he said softly, his voice soothing you. “We have all the time in the world to explore this new chapter of our lives.”

His words eased some of your tension, and you felt a sense of gratitude for his patience and understanding. Steven moved to stand in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face as he looked into your eyes with unwavering affection.

“You are my partner in every sense of the word,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “I want nothing more than for us to build our relationship on a foundation of love and trust.”

“I…” You begin, but your words fall short.

“What is it, my love?”

“I want to…”

“You want to have me tonight?”

You blush and nod as he finishes what you had been wanting to say. Steven's eyes softened with understanding as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Then it shall be as you wish,” he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

He takes your hand and helps you stand. Slowly removing his jacket and vest. You watch as his eyes darkened with lust as he stares at you. A blush forming on your cheeks.

Once he removes his vest, he steps towards you and kisses you softly. Gently cupping your cheeks as if to ground you into the kiss. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, easing the last of your reservations.

The kiss deepens, igniting a fire within you as Steven’s hands roam your body with a gentle yet possessive urgency. Your heart races as you feel his fingers begin to unbutton the top layer of your dress. As he unbuttons the last part, the soft fabric of your dress falls and pools around your feet.

Steven’s lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake. With each layer of clothing shed between you, you feel the urgency of wanting to be closer to him.

Finally, in the flickering light of the fireplace, you stand before each other in all your vulnerability and desire. He stares at you, his eyes roaming your now naked form.

“So beautiful.” He whispers. “A goddess amongst men, and she is in my wake.”

The blush on your cheeks deepen, and he steps closer to you. His hands grab onto your waist and lift you onto the edge of the bed.

“Lay back against the pillows, my love.” He instructs softly.

As you lay back against the soft pillows, Steven’s gaze never leaves yours. His eyes are dark with desire, it was nothing like you had seen before. He leans in to press a trail of kisses along your collarbone, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire deep within your core. Steven’s hands move with purpose, exploring every curve and dip of your body as if committing it to memory. His lips find yours once more in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

The heat between the both of you is intoxicating. You feel something hard against your thigh and you look down. A blush begins to creep up his face.

“Sorry, I’m a bit too excited.” He mumbles and you smile softly.

“It’s quite alright,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach down to run your hand along his length.

Steven’s breath hitches at your touch, a low groan escaping his lips as he slowly thrusts against your hand. His eyes search yours, seeking permission and reassurance. You meet his gaze with unwavering trust and desire, silently giving him the consent he seeks.

Without breaking eye contact, Steven positions himself above you and presses the tip of his member against your entrance.

“This might feel a bit uncomfortable, love. I promise to stop if you do not like it.”

You nod and look deep into his eyes. He slowly guides himself inside you, the heat and tightness wrapping around him like a warm embrace. A gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of being joined so intimately with him, a mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort washing over you.

Steven’s movements are slow and gentle, his hands holding onto yours as if to anchor himself in this moment. He whispers sweet words of adoration and reassurance, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves with a careful rhythm that soon becomes a dance of shared passion.

As the initial discomfort fades, waves of pleasure begin to build within you, each thrust sending sparks of ecstasy through your body. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled gasps and moans.

“Such a good girl.” He praises, causing you to let out a soft moan.

You had never been spoken to like this. It sent waves of pleasure down your spine as he continued to whisper praises into your ear. In this intimate moment, there is only you and Steven, bodies moving together in a sacred union of love and desire.

As the intensity builds, you arch your back and wrap your legs around Steven, pulling him closer. His eyes meet yours, filled with passion and devotion.

"I love you," he hisses, and the words send a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Each word, each thrust, brings you closer to the edge. The pleasure builds and builds until it's almost too much to bear.

“I feel funny.” You moan out.

“I know, darling, let go for me.” He responds quickly.

You don’t understand what he means until the pressure in your lower stomach explodes. You grip Steven’s shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you cry out his name. Your body shaking with intense pleasure. Steven groans and thrusts one last time as he finds his release, filling you with his warmth and completing the bond between you.

His breath is ragged and heavy against your skin. You are still pulsing around his semi-hard length, causing him to groan. As he pulls out, you gasp at the sudden emptiness within you.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, concern in his voice.

You smile weakly and nod. “Yes, I am. That was… more intense than I anticipated.”

Steven smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m glad.” He gently kisses your forehead.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow, Steven's hand strokes your hair while his other arm holds you close to him. For a moment, all is still and calm.

“This is… different.” you murmur, thinking about all that just happened.

“Different” He repeats “A good different, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Silence envelopes the both of you.

“I have never felt this way before.” He admits. “I never thought I would find love like this.”

You turn your head to look up at him. “Because of… your condition?”

He nods, and kisses your forehead. You snuggle closer to him, feeling content and safe in his arms.

“Marc and I were always too scared, too cautious…but then I saw you.” He says softly, ”And you changed our entire perspective.”

You smile, feeling warmed by his words. "I'm glad I could do that for you."

"I love you," Steven whispers into your ear, holding you tighter.

You smile and whisper back, "I love you too."

Both of you doze off to sleep, cradled in each other's arms, content in the knowledge that no matter what the world throws your way, you have each other to lean on. And with that comforting thought, sleep claims you both.

Epilogue

You sit in the large garden of your family’s summer home and watch as your brother and husband play cricket with the rest of the young men on your side of the family. Your hand rests on the swell of your pregnant belly, your first child, which Steven was delighted to find out about.

The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the scene. Your thoughts drifted back to the night you first shared together. The feelings of love and vulnerability still lingered in your heart, wrapping you in a cocoon of cherished memories. But more than that, you felt a sense of gratitude for finding someone who understood and accepted you just as you were.

Steven looked up and caught your gaze, his eyes locking onto yours across the distance. A smile spread across his face as he raised his hand in a silent greeting. You returned the gesture with a warm smile of your own, feeling an intense surge of love for him.

As the men finished up, you waited for Steven to run over to you and help you out of your seat. You both walked back to the house slowly.

“Did you ever think life would come to be like this?” you ask softly.

“Never in a million years, my darling.”

You both stop walking and turn towards each other. “I am excited for the future.” you say.

“So are we.” He says gently and places a hand on your bump. You place your hand gently on top of his, smiling up at him.

Steven leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I will love you till the end of time, love.”

“My moon.”

“My star.”

And with those sweet words, you both continue walking back to the house. The sun set behind you, casting long shadows on the path ahead as your shared journey continued filled with love and hope.

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coffeeshades · 10 months ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VII

—forever winter

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.8k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and covid. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello again, here's the next part!! also here are a few songs i listened to while writing this one: salt in the wound - boygenius, flume - bon iver, the gold - phoebe bridgers, for emma - bon iver, forever winter - taylor swift and calgary - bon iver.

happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 19, 2020

Los Angeles, CA

There have always been two versions of you: the person you once were and the person the world has decided you are. The first is the one who existed long before the spotlight, the one with a bit of adolescent angst, dreams bigger than herself, and a heart still learning to shield itself.

This version was taught by her parents that she was special, but the world hadn’t yet caught on. She was the girl who felt small and out of place, who wrestled with who she was and where she belonged.

And then there’s the second version, the one who stands in the center of magazine covers, on the glossy side of fame. She is everything you once dreamed of becoming—and more. You’ve spent the last decade perfecting her image, carving her out of raw ambition and countless hours under the hot glare of cameras. Her Wikipedia page reads like an epic: awards, accolades, achievements—flawless. She’s a masterpiece.

This side of you is never tired. She never shows frustration. She knows how to angle her face when the camera flashes, to smile when the questions sting, and to cry beautifully when accepting awards. She can gracefully discuss the sexism she’s faced in the industry, yet she knows better than to name names or point fingers.

She always sticks to the narrative.

For the longest time, you hoped you wouldn’t need to split into two people. That the version of yourself from years ago would be good enough for the world. But the divide wasn’t gradual—it was sudden. It happened four years ago, the day your ex decided to make you the centerpiece of a bitter, ugly breakup that splashed across every tabloid in the country. Since then, you’ve been caught between these two identities, juggling the woman you once were with the image the world expects of you.

As you sit in the back seat of the car, your eyes linger on your reflection in the tinted window. Tonight is the SAG Awards, another high-profile event where your public persona will take the lead. You watch yourself in the mirror, a familiar stranger, and wonder: Does anyone truly know you? Do you even know yourself anymore?

“There's a line of press when you get out of the car,” Taylor, your manager, says without looking up from her phone. “You know, the usual stuff.”

“Got it.”

You nod, trying to focus on the task ahead, but your thoughts are far away. You look out the window, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. No matter how many of these events you attend, it never gets easier.

The car slows to a stop, the muffled sounds of the crowd growing louder through the windows.

“Why isn’t Daniel here?” Taylor asks, breaking the silence.

“He had to fly back to Enstone,” you reply, a pang of disappointment in your chest. “The season starts soon. He’s prepping.”

Last year was a challenging one for Daniel—his racing season wasn’t what he hoped for, and he’s determined to make up for it this time around. His commitment to his craft mirrors yours in so many ways, but tonight, you wish he was here with you.

“Oh, that’s too bad, babe,” Taylor says, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of sympathy. “When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure; he didn't say,” you murmur. “Hopefully soon.”

The door opens, and the roar of the crowd hits you like a wave. Flashing cameras, the shouting of photographers, and the glittering red carpet stretch out before you. “Looks like we’re here,” Taylor says, stepping out and extending a hand to help you.

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. It’s always easier with someone by your side, but tonight you’ll have to do this alone. You follow Taylor’s lead, plastering a smile on your face as you step out into the chaos. The cameras flash, posing and waving, but inside, you feel detached—like you’re watching yourself from afar.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally make it inside the venue, your body relaxing slightly as the noise of the red carpet fades behind you. You’re greeted by familiar faces and smiles, but the exhaustion from keeping up appearances lingers.

“I thought I was going to be the coolest person here, but clearly, you've beat me to it.”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts, deep and teasing. You turn and find Pedro standing there, dressed in a sleek silver suit jacket with black pants, his expression warm and playful.

His presence doesn't faze you; you've been filming for the Mandalorian since November last year, seeing each other here and there, not really spending time together between takes, and not acknowledging what happened at the wedding. You didn't hear from him since production stopped mid-December, only to get back on set early January. Although with everything else he's doing, you barely see him there anyway.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes lingering on you.

You glance down at your outfit—a sharp, stylish suit you picked for the night. It fits perfectly, giving you an air of confidence even though, inside, you feel anything but. “Thanks,” you say. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Pascal.” You gesture to his getup, offering a kind smile.

Pedro smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I came over to congratulate you.”

"Yeah?"

“The Achievement Award. That's huge.”

You laugh softly, a little self-conscious. “That sounds like an overstatement for someone who’s only 28.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze piercing. Pedro has always been able to see through you in ways that others can’t. You can hide from the world, but not from him.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, his voice firm.

“Do what?” you ask, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

“Don’t invalidate your accomplishments. You deserve this.”

There’s something in the way he says it—a weight to his words that makes you pause. Part of you wants to argue, to downplay everything like you always do, but his sincerity stops you.

Instead, you nod, offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Pedro,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”

Does it?

He sees right through and holds out his arm, a silent invitation. “Wanna walk in with me?”

For a moment, you hesitate. There’s an unspoken tension between the two of you, a history that neither of you has fully acknowledged. But as your eyes meet, the air shifts. You loop your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as the two of you make your way into the theater together. A camera flash goes off, and you smile. But this time, with Pedro by your side, it feels a little less lonely.

•••

You were sitting at a table when a fellow actor and friend started talking about you on stage. It was surreal, like time had slowed down, and you found yourself lost in thought. You’d been to countless awards shows and accepted more than your share of accolades, but this one felt different. A recognition of not just a role or a single performance, but a lifetime of work—or at least, a decade of it. And you were still young. Too young, part of you thought, for this kind of tribute. Yet here you were, about to be honored in front of your peers, the people who had seen your highs and lows.

The screen flickered to life, and a montage of your work began to play. Scenes from movies that had shaped your career, close-ups of moments that had shaped you. A smile here, a tear there, moments of triumph and vulnerability.

It was oddly like watching your life flash before your eyes—a strange out-of-body experience, as if you were looking back at someone else's journey. The montage moved through the years, capturing not just the characters you played but the changes in you—subtle at first, then more pronounced. The younger you, still full of raw hope and untamed energy, compared to the more seasoned version, who had learned how to navigate the treacherous terrain of fame. It felt like a snapshot of your life in fast-forward, as if you were witnessing your own eulogy.

You breathed in deeply, trying to stay present. It wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself.

The applause was thunderous as the montage ended, and it wasn’t until your name was called that reality snapped back into focus.

You stepped out into the blinding lights, the weight of the moment settling in as you approached the podium. The sea of faces before you blurred slightly in the brightness, but you could make out familiar ones. Peers you respected, younger actors looking up at you with wide eyes, veterans who had paved the way before you. And somewhere out there, you knew Pedro was watching.

With trembling hands, you held the award, the metal cool against your palm. You took a breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“This is... overwhelming,” you began, chuckling, your voice breaking slightly from the emotion of it all. “I don’t even know where to start. Thank you to everyone who believed in me and to the people who supported me through the ups and downs. This means more than I can put into words.”

You paused, scanning the room, catching sight of Pedro for just a second, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that grounded you.

“When I started this journey, I was just a kid with big dreams and very little understanding of how hard this industry could be,” you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. “But I learned early on that dreams don’t work unless you do. It’s not just about talent—it’s about determination, grit, and pushing through even when everything seems impossible.”

Your eyes drifted toward the younger faces in the audience. “To the younger actors out there, keep going. I know it can feel like the world is telling you no at every turn, like you’re not good enough or that you’ll never make it, but don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop working. This industry can be brutal, but it can also be beautiful. Find the beauty. Hold onto it. Work for it.”

A wave of applause broke out, but you weren’t finished yet. You felt a pull, a need to say more, something from the heart. Something real.

“And through all of it,” you said, your voice softer now, “keep the people who truly love you close. In this business, it’s easy to get lost in the noise, in the hundreds of things that try to tear you down or make you feel like you’re not enough. But the people who love you for who you are, not what you can give them, are the ones who will keep you grounded. I’ve met some of my forever people in this industry, and for that, I’m grateful. Despite all the bad and all the heartache that comes with this life, it’s those relationships that make it worthwhile.”

Your gaze wandered again, unconsciously searching the crowd for Pedro, and when your eyes met his, something inside you softened. He knew what you were talking about. He knew the weight of those words better than anyone.

“I’m grateful,” you continued, your voice a little more vulnerable now, “because I’ve been able to hold on to those people. Even when things get complicated even when it feels like the world is pushing us apart. You have to fight for those connections. They’re what make this crazy, beautiful life worth living.”

You felt a lump in your throat but pushed through it, finishing with, “So thank you. To the people in my life who have stuck with me through the good and the bad. This is as much yours as it is mine.”

March 5th, 2020

Calgary, Canada

Life after the awards ceremony didn’t feel much different than before. It was still the same relentless rhythm—work, events, travel, more work. The brief moments of peace in between became rare and fleeting, like whispers in the storm of your career. Daniel’s season was supposed to start soon, and though you’d seen him twice after he flew to France for preparations, something between you felt... off. His distance was palpable, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on it too much. It was easier to stay busy, keep moving, and brush it off as a phase. After all, the both of you were pulled in so many directions—when was the last time anything felt normal?

A quiet dinner in your NYC apartment, one of the few times Daniel managed to swing by in between training sessions. The table was set with takeout boxes instead of a home-cooked meal—neither of you had the energy for anything more.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, watching him as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I miss this,” you added.

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel said, but the words were like dust on the air—insubstantial, weightless.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet," you trailed off, unsure of how to breach the distance you felt growing between you.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind with the season coming up. It’s…you know, a lot of pressure.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on his. “You’re going to be great. You always are.”

He gave you that familiar smile, but it still felt like something was slipping through your fingers.

•••

By March, you had flown to Calgary to shoot a horror-adjacent film. The setting—a desolate cabin in the snow, miles from anywhere—was perfect for the kind of chilling atmosphere the director was aiming for. You’d always loved working with indie directors; their stories had depth, innovation, and a sense of grounded reality that the big-budget productions sometimes lacked. It was a reminder of why you fell in love with acting in the first place.

On set, things moved fast. Between takes, you found a quiet corner of the cabin and pulled out your phone to FaceTime with Taylor. She was mid-ranting when she answered.

“There’s a potential shutdown happening, babe. Something about a virus…COVID, or whatever they’re calling it. Have you heard anything about it?”

You’d heard whispers from the crew, but nothing had been confirmed. “I’ve heard some talk around set, but no one knows what’s happening yet.”

“Well, I’m telling you now, it’s serious. This might be the last project you get to work on for a while. Everything else is likely to be delayed. Keep your eyes open.”

You sighed, looking around as the crew moved around with their usual buzz of energy.

“Guess I’ll enjoy this last bit of freedom while I can.”

Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, enjoy it while you’re in the middle of nowhere. Call me if you hear anything else.”

You ended the call and pocketed your phone, the unease settling into your chest. Everyone around the set seemed unfazed, but the air had undoubtedly changed.

By the final days of production, the world was different. Everyone wore face masks, and hand sanitizer became the reigning deity on set.

•••

Reality hit hard. Flights were cancelled. No one could leave. You were stuck in the cabin, snow piling up outside like a barricade against the world, while the virus barricaded you from returning home. You made a grocery run the minute things got a little hectic, filling the place with more supplies than you’d ever seen yourself buy—just in case. The panic in the air was contagious, and chaos reigned for those first two weeks.

You FaceTimed your mom as you unpacked. “I’m stuck in Canada,” you said, laughing softly despite the anxiety that gnawed at your insides.

“Are you serious?” her voice was a mix of worry and exasperation. “You should’ve been back by now. What about New York?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back. Airports are closed.”

She sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the phone. “Just take care of yourself, honey, alright? Don’t be reckless. Are you alone?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine."

Her voice softened. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will, Mom. I promise.”

•••

It was a particularly dark, cold afternoon. The kind where the sky hung low with thick clouds and the cold crept in through the cracks of the cabin no matter how many layers you wore. You had wrapped yourself in a blanket, the silence of isolation pressing down heavier than usual when your phone buzzed on the table.

Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button, but you couldn’t ignore him. Not yet. So you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear, forcing a soft, casual, “Hey.”

His voice on the other end was calm, but there was an undercurrent to it—a kind of distance that had been growing for months. "Hey," he replied, his Aussie accent tinged with something heavy. "How’s it going over there?"

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “You know… same. Snowed in. A lot of waiting.” There was an awkward pause. You filled it with a half-hearted laugh. “How about you? Everything alright?”

He cleared his throat, and you could feel the shift before he even said it. “Actually… I don’t think we should keep this up.”

The words hit you like the cold outside, seeping into your bones, but not with shock—just a kind of muted inevitability. There it is, you thought, the final crack in what was already falling apart.

Your brain hummed with white noise after that. You don’t remember what you said in response, something vague like, “Yeah, I get it.” The words came out on autopilot, and you weren’t really listening anymore. It wasn’t traumatic; it wasn’t the kind of breakup that destroyed you. It was like slowly waking from a dream and realizing it had already ended before you even opened your eyes.

His voice was kind, soft—too soft. “You’re so great, you know that, right? This just… it wasn’t working anymore. For either of us.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. Your mind was elsewhere—on the conversations with Pedro, on the way your heart leaped when you heard his voice instead of Daniel’s. You had known, deep down, for a while now where your heart really was.

“I guess we knew this was coming,” you finally managed, voice steady, as if you were discussing something as simple as the weather.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But still… I didn’t want it to hurt.”

The niceties and the polite words that followed hurt more than any fight ever could have. It was the kindness of it that made it sting—the acknowledgment that neither of you had it in you to fight for something that had already drifted away. There was no anger, no raised voices, no accusations.

Just two people who had loved each other briefly, now saying goodbye like they were parting ways at an airport terminal.

“Well, take care of yourself, alright?” Daniel said softly.

“You too,” you whispered, already feeling the weight of finality.

And then it was over. The phone went silent in your hand, and you stared at the screen as if it could offer you some kind of closure that you weren’t sure you needed.

•••

The days began to bleed into one another. You were alone in that cabin—snowed in and quarantined from the world. The only connection you had was through your phone, through calls with Sarah and Oscar, who checked in on you daily.

Most days, you found ways to pass the time. You read, you cooked—burned some things, too—and found yourself sitting by the old piano that had come with the cabin. Your fingers brushed against the keys, unsure at first, after so much time spent focusing on acting. But the music came swiftly, like muscle memory. The songs poured out of you, stories in lyrical form, shaped by the silence and solitude around you.

But some nights, the quiet was too loud.

The breakup with Daniel lingered in the back of your mind like a dull ache. You had been okay with it for the most part; you knew it was coming, and neither of you were in it anymore. But there were nights, like tonight, when the weight of it crashed down and the loneliness felt too heavy to carry. You lay in bed, tears wetting the pillow, thinking about how everything had ended in polite goodbyes when maybe you needed the screaming.

•••

One day, in the middle of baking—flour dusting your hands and a bowl of half-mixed batter sitting on the counter—you received a text: “I hope you’re doing okay.”

You stared at it, your heart skipping a beat. You had thought about him every single day and wondered how he was coping and whether he was safe. Anytime Sarah called, you asked about him, telling yourself that it was enough to know from a distance. But now, with that simple text, you caved.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

His reply came almost immediately. “Not really. Mostly lonely.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how hard it was for him to be alone. He thrived off people, off energy. And now, the world had gone still.

“Wanna talk?” you typed, holding your breath.

“Would love to hear your voice,” came the reply.

So you called him, and the hours melted away as you both talked about everything—about the virus, about work, about how isolating it all was. He asked, finally, “How’s Daniel?”

You hesitated. “We’re no longer together. Haven’t been for a while.”

There was a pause, then a soft, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

You quickly changed the subject, but it lingered between you, the unspoken acknowledgment of what that meant. After that, you spoke almost every day. The isolation became less suffocating, and with each call, you both felt a little less alone.

•••

On Pedro’s birthday, you baked a cupcake in his honor, lighting a single candle before FaceTiming him. When he picked up, he laughed, “You made me a cupcake?”

“Of course I did,” you said with a grin, holding up the tiny treat. “Now, pretend to blow out the candle.”

He played along, puffing his cheeks and making a ridiculous show of it. “Thank you for this. It’s not much of a birthday without people.”

“Well, you’ve got me,” you said, singing an off-key version of Happy Birthday. His laughter filled the space between you.

Later that night, he posted a screenshot of your call on his Instagram story, and the internet lost its mind. Comments flooded in—"Omg, she baked him a cupcake!"—“My favorite best friends!”—and you laughed at the attention it brought.

•••

One evening, as you sat at the piano again, your phone propped up with Pedro on FaceTime, he listened quietly as you played a new melody. “I think the lyrics need work,” you said, biting your lip.

He smirked. “Let me hear them.”

You hummed the first few lines, fumbling over the phrasing. “See, it doesn’t quite flow.”

“Let’s try this,” Pedro suggested, offering a line.

By the end of the night, the song felt whole, and you felt lighter.

The days passed—isolated and cold—but your connection with Pedro was alive and warm again. And as the weeks stretched on, you couldn’t help but wonder: How long until you fucked this up again?

October 5, 2020

Budapest, Hungary

Pedro had always known loneliness. It was a quiet, persistent companion, but in Budapest, it had taken on a new form. The city was beautiful, its streets old and layered with history, but none of it could distract him from the hollow ache in his chest. The early mornings on set, the long hours of filming—the work was steady. But outside of that, the hours stretched endlessly.

He had been filming in Europe for months, and though he loved his job, the thrill of creating something special—the distance—both physical and emotional—was wearing him thin. He had been keeping in touch with you, his constant thread of connection. The texts, the occasional FaceTime calls, were easy and comforting. But he could never shake the weight of what he hadn’t told you. What you didn't allow him to say. It felt like a brick in his stomach.

You lived strangely in his head.

He still hadn’t found the courage to say the words. I love you. They haunted him—a truth he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Every time he thought he was ready, he backtracked, swallowing the confession whole. His cowardice infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been in love with you for years, the feelings growing stronger and deeper, but now… now you were thousands of miles away, and he was stuck in this self-made purgatory.

His thoughts often drifted to his mother lately. She had always known how to comfort him, her voice soothing, her advice simple but profound. What would she have said about you? About his inability to speak the truth? He could hear her in his head, telling him to stop being such a fool, to just go for it. But she wasn’t here anymore, and he felt lost without her, more than he ever let on.

The days on set were repetitive but engaging. The crew was tightknit, and the project was exciting. He threw himself into work, hoping it would distract him. He laughed with the cast, bantered with the director, but when the camera wasn’t rolling, his mind was elsewhere. It was with you.

•••

A few weeks later, after wrapping up in Budapest, he found himself in Switzerland alone again. He didn’t know why he’d come. The scenery was breathtaking, the mountains vast and quiet, but the isolation magnified the emptiness he felt. It was as if everything had come to a standstill.

The stillness weighed on him. The quiet, once a solace, now felt oppressive. He spent his days wandering the small towns, drinking coffee in hidden cafés, trying to convince himself that the solitude was a gift. But he felt shattered, more broken than before.

One night, the loneliness became too much, and he called you. Desperation tightened his throat as he waited for you to pick up, his mind screaming at him to just tell you. The phone rang, and when you answered, your voice was soft, familiar, and full of comfort.

"Pedro," you said, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

His breath caught, and the confession lodged itself in his throat again. He had been ready, so ready, but hearing you—he thought better of it. What could he say that wouldn’t ruin everything?

"Hey," he replied, his voice rougher than intended. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

You chuckled softly on the other end. "You good?"

"Yeah, I’m good," he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. "Just…miss talking to you, that’s all."

"I miss you too," you said, and it broke him a little more. The call went on, but he had already retreated into himself, too afraid to say what needed to be said. He listened to you talk about your day, your laugh filling the silence on his end, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing—failing himself, failing you.

•••

The next day, he went for a walk. The air was cold, biting, but it didn’t bother him. He needed to clear his head. He walked along the cobbled streets, past quaint houses with shuttered windows, and let the weight of his feelings wash over him. It was overwhelming. His history with you, all the unsaid things, all the moments when he should have acted and didn’t. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him breathless.

He found a bench and sat, his head in his hands. One day, he thought. One day, I’ll tell her.

December 31st, 2020

New York, NY

The phone call from Oscar came two weeks before New Year's Eve. His voice was warm, as it always was, but there was an unmistakable edge of hope in it, the kind that crept in after months of isolation.

“It’s just something small,” he had said. You could hear his smile through the phone, that charming grin he always wore. “Not a lot of people, you know. Just family and close friends. After the last few months we've had… I think we need this.”

You hadn’t seen Oscar in person in what felt like forever, and the idea of being with people—Oscar’s people, your people—sounded like a balm to the soul. You agreed before he could finish the invitation, the excitement bubbling up despite the world still not feeling quite right.

You got tested later that week, making sure you were safe to attend the gathering.

When you arrived at Oscar’s apartment, the city had an eerie quiet to it. New York was never still, even during the pandemic, but tonight it felt subdued, like it was holding its breath for something more. You headed for the entrance, and the soft sound of music spilled out the moment the doors opened.

Oscar met you with his arms wide open, pulling you into a tight hug. “Look who finally made it,” he teased, his face lighting up in that familiar way. “You look good.”

“You too,” you said, stepping back and taking in the warmth of the room. It was intimate—just the right amount of people to make you feel at home, but not so many that it felt overwhelming.

Before you could take another step, Sarah swooped in, stealing you from Oscar’s embrace with an exaggerated squeal. She enveloped you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe.

“I missed you so much!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight. You hadn’t seen her in ages, and the reunion felt like a weight lifting off your chest. The two of you spent the next few minutes catching up, your laughter blending in with the soft chatter around the room.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. He had arrived a little late, typical of him, but the sight of him sent your heart into a dizzying spin. It had been almost a year since you last saw each other in person.

He moved through the room, and when he finally made his way toward you, your breath hitched. He wore a simple black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his toned chest. His hair was longer, fluffy from the months of lockdown, and his big brown eyes—usually so full of light —looked tired.

But when he saw you, the weariness seemed to lift for a moment.

He said your name softly, stepping close. His arms opened, and you fell into them without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him in a way that felt too familiar, too safe. He held you tight, his grip lingering longer than necessary, like he was afraid to let go.

“Hey,” you breathed against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him—pleasant, familiar, grounding. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you. You pulled back slightly, looking into his face, wanting to say something—anything. You couldn’t live without thinking about him. He consumed your every thought, and somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with how you felt about him.

But the words stuck in your throat.

“At last, we see each other,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, his hand still on your back.

“At last,” you repeated, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You both opened your mouths to speak, then laughed in unison.

"You first," Pedro said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, though there was something deeper there—something lingering just beneath the surface.

But before you could say anything more, Sarah reappeared, her arm hooking through yours as she dragged you away. “Sorry! I need to steal her for a sec,” she said with a laugh, oblivious to the quiet intensity of the moment she’d interrupted.

Pedro smiled at her, though his eyes flicked back to you. "What I wanted to say can wait," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise that sent a jolt through you.

You promised yourself you’d find him later.

•••

In the kitchen, you and Sarah were rummaging through cabinets for more drinks when you heard Oscar’s booming laugh. Turning, you spotted him and Pedro, who now had a ridiculous pointy birthday hat perched on his head. You burst into laughter at the sight, unable to resist.

“Cute hat,” you said, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “Let’s document this moment.”

He grinned, grabbing Oscar by the shoulder and pulling him in for the picture. Pedro tilted his head, drinking from his beer, and Oscar looked up at him with a puzzled expression as you snapped a photo.

“Perfect. That’s going on Instagram for sure,” you teased, and Pedro groaned.

Before anyone could respond, Oscar’s wife walked by, eyeing the hat on Pedro’s head with mock suspicion. Pedro took his cue, unlocking from Oscar and jokingly attacking her with the pointy hat, poking her side with the plastic tip. You snapped another picture, laughing as she swatted him away.

“Send that to me,” she called over her shoulder, and you nodded, tucking your phone back into your pocket just as Sarah handed you a drink.

•••

The night continued, the energy in the room bubbling up as the countdown to midnight approached. Karaoke had started in one of the rooms, and you couldn’t resist.

Pedro avoided it at all costs, standing in the doorway with a bemused expression. After your rendition of Losing My Religion, he caught your eye.

“That was something, huh?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I was extra terrible just for you,” you shot back, walking over to him. “I know how much you hate this.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” he said.

Just as you were about to respond, a woman’s voice broke through the moment. “Oscar said you were in here,” she said, stepping forward. “Hi.”

You turned to see her approach Pedro, and before you could fully register what was happening, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. A casual, intimate gesture that sent a shock of realization through your entire body.

You blink, dumbfounded, as Pedro shifted slightly to make introductions. “This is Julia,” he said, his voice a little too calm for the turmoil suddenly spinning inside you.

Your mind raced, trying to place her. And then it hit you—she was in the group photos he posted from the crew of the movie he was filming in Budapest. One of the producers, you think.

Oh.

Julia greeted you happily, oblivious to the terrible ache now pooling in your chest. You felt your throat tighten, the words you had wanted to say earlier were now swallowed by this unfamiliar wave of jealousy and disappointment. You went mute, unable to find words that wouldn’t betray how much this hurt.

Pedro’s voice broke the silence again, almost too nonchalant. “This is what I wanted to talk about earlier.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh, great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you didn’t feel.

“And you?” Pedro asked, clearly trying to keep things light. “You said you wanted to talk, too.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and your mind screamed for you to say something—anything—but all you could muster was, “No, um, it was nothing, really.”

Something stung deep inside you. It was a dull ache, gnawing away at your resolve. You needed a way out. Fast.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you said to her, your voice tight. “If you’ll excuse me…”

And before either of them could say anything more, you slipped away, making a beeline for the kitchen where Oscar stood.

“Hey,” you blurted, pulling him aside. “He’s fucking dating someone? And you didn’t say a thing?”

Oscar looked at you, taken aback. “I—it wasn’t my news to share.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to swallow the embarrassment. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I just… I can't believe I was about to confess my love for him and make a fool of myself. Again.”

Oscar stared at you, his eyebrows raised. “You were what?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Yeah. But now? I mean, clearly, it’s just another sign. The timing’s never right. Never.”

Was it punishment? you thought.

Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain of what to say. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed another drink. “Here,” he said quietly, offering it to you.

You took it, staring at the liquid swirling in the glass.

"It’s fairly new, you know," Oscar said softly, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Like two weeks or something. It’s not serious yet."

“I just don’t get it,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “I don’t.”

Oscar sighed, his hand finding your back, a comforting weight that helped ground you. “I know. I know.”

You knew there was else nothing you could do right now, so you poured the drink down your throat, feeling the burn as it went down.

•••

“There you are,” Pedro called softly, his voice muffled by the cold air as he stepped through the glass doors onto the backyard patio. The wind hit him immediately, sharp and biting, but the bitter cold felt fitting, almost poetic.

You stood there, your back to him, a silhouette against the frozen horizon. For a moment, he was transported back to the first time he saw you in this very spot, under a much different sky. That night, the air had been warm, filled with the kind of anticipation that crackled with every glance exchanged. You had stood just like this, dressed similarly too, arms crossed against the world, hair cascading down your back like a curtain he desperately wanted to pull aside.

But tonight was different. Tonight, your shoulders were tense, hunched against more than just the cold. When you turned around, your face wasn’t full of curiosity. It was distant, your eyes heavy with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that he knew he was responsible for.

"You bolted out of there," Pedro said, his voice strained as he tried to sound casual, but the worry leaked through.

You gave a soft, bitter hum, a sound he couldn’t decipher but felt in his bones. "I was a bit shocked, honestly."

He swallowed, suddenly nervous, fumbling with the words he had rehearsed in his mind so many times but never managed to say. "I know. I wanted to tell you about her, I just... I don’t know. It’s new. I didn’t think it was important enough yet. I thought I’d find the right moment, but it never felt... appropriate. And I didn’t want to make things weird, you know?"

Pedro kept talking, words spilling out as he tried to explain. He mentioned her name—Julia—said they had met on set, that it wasn’t serious yet, that it had barely even begun. His voice grew quieter, more unsure with every sentence, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

See, Pedro hadn't planned on getting into a relationship, not when his every thought was consumed by you, not when he knew he loved you, and yet here he was. He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

But your expression had already changed. He could see the way your face shut down, the way your gaze hardened, and it twisted something deep inside him.

“Don’t apologize to me about your relationship,” you said, the words sharp and cutting. “That’s the kind of thing that makes me feel like I’m some kind of Machiavellian villain.”

Pedro winced, his breath catching in his throat. He hated this. But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice lower, more controlled.

"Our time never seems to align, does it? It never has, and it never will. It's funny, even.” You paused, looking away, your voice a strained whisper.

Pedro wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that he felt trapped between his own heart and the razor-sharp edge of what was right, what was fair. The guilt and longing were choking him, twisting his insides until all he could feel was the jagged ache of wanting something that was always just out of reach.

You took a deep breath, the cold air clouding in front of you like smoke.

"Are you happy?" you asked, your voice barely audible. A mirror of his very own "Do you love him?" from last year.

Pedro looked at you, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’m trying,” he said quietly, the truth in the words landing hard.

You nodded, your lips pressed together in a sad, resigned smile.

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

It was an unspoken agreement—a quiet acceptance that, once again, you were not meant to be. That your lives had written this story long before you’d ever had a say in it.

a/n: enough sadness, their time will come soon ;)

a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fic #my writing #love is complicated fic

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rhaeverie · 1 year ago

Text

Desk Deliveries — ljn

‣ pairing: lee jeno x reader

‣ genre: fluff, implied f2l/coworkers-to-lovers, secret admirer au, office!au

‣ wc: 5.6k

‣ summary: When gifts start appearing on your work desk on December 1st, you have no choice but to hunt down the man who’s been planting them. And with only 7 men on the floor, this shouldn’t be difficult… Right?

‣ warnings: nothing really?, cliche-ish ending, a lot of dialogue (I gotta get this story goingggg)

‣ an: jeno’s wooooo, honestly easier to write than I thought but it’s wayyyy longer than I wanted it to be (I keep underestimating? myself), I just hope it’s up to my own standards lmaooo, but hopefully u guys enjoy!

Series Masterlist

DECEMBER 1

Desk Delivery!

Starting today, consider your desk a treasure trove of surprises.

‘Tis the season of giving, after all, and your radiant presence in the office deserves to be celebrated.

Each gift is carefully chosen, a small reflection of the little things I love about you. I hope they bring a smile to your face and add a sprinkle of magic to your December days.

Stay curious,

Your Secret Admirer (or would Secret Santa fit the season?)

You almost laugh out loud, blinking at the note sitting on your desk. This must be a joke, right?

“What is that?” Karina digs her chin into your shoulder, reading the note from behind you.

“Some joke,” you reply, letting her pluck the card from your fingertips.

She pouts, “But it’s cute!”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” you counter, taking the card back.

“I just don’t believe it’s real.”

DECEMBER 3

Today, you arrive at the office greeted with a small, neatly wrapped cube on your desk and you’re beginning to think that the message you were given on the 1st wasn’t a joke and that, whoever it was, was being serious.

You glance around the office to see if any of your coworkers were present, but you seemed to be the first one there. Your brows furrow, carefully sliding the box toward you before ripping the wrapping paper.

You use your office scissors to slice the tape open, and then once you are sure you can open the box to see what was in it, you take a deep breath in. You push the box away from you so it’s at arm’s length, afraid that something was going to pop out when you lift the flaps open. Counting to three in your head, you ready your fingers to lift the covers after the third count.

Fully expecting there to be fake snakes of some sort, you were met with nothing (thankfully). You pull the box back and peek in to find a mug and a card. Your brows furrow, pulling the card out first.

I know how much you love that mug of yours, Y/N…

But it’s time to retire that broken one.

Got you a new one. Hope you like it!

Your Secret Admirer

You can’t help but giggle at the tone of the writer, placing the card down before going for the mug. You’ve been teased maybe once or twice for using a mug with no handle, mostly because you’ve been complaining about how the edges of the glass edges left behind by the absent handles had been poking at your palm.

Carefully, you fish the cup out of the box, making sure you won’t drop and shatter the present before you can even use it, and you use your other hand to pull the box off. And when you finally get a good look at the mug, you laugh out loud, bringing it up to eye level to get a good look at it.

It was the exact same mug you already have been using, the only difference was that this one actually had a handle.

You were so caught up in your present that you didn't notice Karina approaching you, “Morning, smiley face.”

“Huh?” you blink at her, confused.

“I would take a picture of you right now, but I’m too lazy,” she huffs, “But you’re smiling like a child on Christmas Day.” Karina blatantly points at your face, “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

You shrug but gesture to the card and the mug, “I don’t think that first one was a joke…”

DECEMBER 4

“Hey! Hey, Y/N!”

You hear someone call your name, but you don’t actually hear it. It was sort of like background noise to your thoughts, entering one ear and leaving the other.

“Y/N! Hey!”

Then, you feel something rough hit the side of your face and you realize that Karina was peeking over the wall of her cubicle and into yours.

“What the fuck do you want!” you whisper. You pick up the balled-up scrap paper she had thrown before throwing it back to her, “I’m trying to work!”

She dodges the ball with ease, head briefly disappearing then reappearing, “Do you have any candidates for who your secret admirer could be?”

Karina was speaking a little bit too loud for your liking, so you gestured for her to come closer. She doesn’t hesitate to leave her workspace to enter yours, sitting down on an empty spot on your desk, “So? Candidates?”

You shake your head, “Barely. I was only able to pick out that the writing is a guy’s writing because the girls have neat writing… Other than that, I have nothing.”

The two letters sitting on your desk were your only explicit clues. Then, you had the thing with the mug, but everyone knew of your broken mug. So really, it was just the handwriting that you had as insight.

“Okay, so it’s a guy…” Karina hums. She stretches her neck to glance around the office, “And there’s only like… seven? It wouldn’t be difficult to eliminate some of them.” She picks up your two cards to examine the cards. You can see her eyes move back and forth between the letters, pressing her lips into a thin line. “It’s not Renjun.”

“Huh? How do you know that?”

“He handwrites,” Karina states, “Like straight-up longhand writing. So it’s not him.”

“How do you know he’s not just changing up his writing so it’s not obvious?” you narrow your eyes.

Karina laughs, “Okay, you have a point, but let’s just say that he’s out temporarily, to make it easier on us. In the case that everyone else is out, then it’s Renjun.”

You don’t notice the way your face scrunches up, your facial features pushing in toward your nose.

“Hey, what’s with the face?” Karina’s head tilts to the side. It takes a beat and a half before she realizes, “Wait, you don’t want it to be Renjun, do you?”

You don’t answer, mostly because you didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t want Renjun to be your admirer—no offense to him. Renjun was a great guy, but he wasn’t someone who you saw yourself being with. And if you were to actually build a relationship with this person, you didn’t want it to be Renjun.

An all-knowing smirk appears on Karina’s face, “Then who do you want it to be?”

You want to throw a punch at Karina’s knee, but you remember you are still in the workplace and you need to keep it (at least a little bit) professional. “Fuck you, you already know the answer to that.”

Jeno, Karina thinks.

“Of course you want it to be him,” Karina puts the cards back down, “I should have known. You’re down bad for that man.”

Karina wasn’t wrong. You and Jeno go way back to your internship days, and your (hopeless) crush on him has been there since then.

“Down bad for who?”

From seemingly out of nowhere, Chenle appears at the corner of your cubicle, leaning against it as he takes a sip of his coffee. And of course, wherever Chenle was, Jisung followed, standing right next to the former.

“Uh, that-that one actor!” you lie in a panic, “From that one show!”

“You suck at lying,” Chenle snorts, “You could have at least named someone. It could have been Nam Joohyuk for all I care.”

“It’s not you guys if that’s what you’re thinking,” Karina snickers, “Sorry, boys.”

Jisung and Chenle burst out laughing, almost comically in sync. They even threw in a high-five, though it was out of habit. “No offense, Y/N, but I don’t see you in that light.” Chenle is practically in tears.

“No offense, Chenle, but I don’t either,” you reply, “Now can you guys please leave my space or I’m reporting you guys to Taeyong.” And that sends them away because it wasn’t the first time they’ve been reported.

“Okay so we can scratch those two off the list,” Karina concludes.

And you nod.

So far, so good. This should be easy.

DECEMBER 8

Okay, it wasn’t as easy as you thought.

All your interactions with the other guys were normal. None of them seemed suspicious enough for you to star, nor did any of them do anything that ruled themselves off your list, and you had to admit, it was frustrating.

Of all the boys, the most suspicious was Jaemin, who snickered every time he passed your desk. But when you mentioned this to Karina, Karina pointed out that Jaemin was like that in general, always up to his own shenanigans like Donghyuck was.

“That or he knows something,” Karina thinks, “We should ask him.”

It was nearing the end of the day and you and Karina were sitting at one of the open tables by the floor’s wall of windows, mugs in hand while you carefully eyed the boys of the department.

Karina’s about to walk up to Jaemin when you stop her, pinching her blouse to keep her from leaving, “I don’t think Jaemin’s stupid enough to spill anything if we ask. We have to make it subtle.”

“Subtle, how?”

You shrug, “Just subtle.”

“Subtle, how?” Karina repeats.

You want to bonk her in the head, “I guess pretend like you don’t really care, maybe say you think it’s Renjun or something and see what he says.”

Let’s say Jaemin really did know who your admirer was. If Karina were to think it was someone else, she could note the way Jaemin would react to her guesses and you both can go from there.

You shoo her away and let her do her thing, staying back to pretend you were watching cars drive past down below.

In 8 days, the only clues you were able to gather included the fact that he was a boy, he worked on this floor (the mug thing), he liked to end his J’s in loop de loops, and there was always some type of water or coffee stain on the cards.

The last clue was something you and Karina had just recently discovered, simply because the first few cards were wrinkled in the slightest with water, while the most recent one, today's, had been stained with a drop of coffee.

You’re not sure if these were purposeful or accidental, but nonetheless, you and Karina took any details as clues, hoping that it would lead to a conclusion.

“You haven’t blinked for a while.”

“Shit, I didn’t hear you come,” you greet Jeno with an awkward smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, “I was just deep in thought.”

Jeno’s eyes disappear when he smiles and your stomach does that thing it does when he does so. It’s so stupid how you’re feeling like a giddy high schooler around this man, but you’ll defend yourself any day and blame him for everything.

“Is it about your secret admirer?” Jeno questions. He’s facing the window and you’re facing him. You can see him peeking at you through the corner of his eye and he’s smiling teasingly.

Your eyes widen, “Wait, how do you know about that?” You haven’t told anyone but Karina, Chenle, and Jisung, the last two only earning the information for being the most persistent duo on the planet.

“Word gets around,” he shrugs, “And I pass your desk to and from the elevator.”

You’re guessing the two younger boys had let it slip out but you disregard them for now, “Oh… right…”

“So, what about him?” Jeno questions.

“Just… I don’t know who it is….”

Jeno turns to you and you’re taken aback by how tired he looks. Sure, everyone in this damn office repped the good ‘ol panda eyes, but Jeno’s hair was a bit dishevelled, eyes half closed from fatigue. You choose not to point it out.

Jeno’s words register in your head and your brows furrow, “Wait… how do you know they’re a he? I didn’t say anything about him unless…” You don’t quite notice the way Jeno freezes up only because he wasn’t moving much beforehand. “Unless you know who he is!”

Jeno shakes his head, “Jisung told me!”

“I didn’t tell Jisung anything.” “You probably told Karina who told Chenle who told Jisung!” At this point, Jeno’s heart is beating at an erratically fast pace and he’s about to panic until Karina returns. She’s pouting, a tinge of disappointment evident on her face and Jeno takes this as his chance to escape.

“What did Jaemin say?” Your attention is easily pulled away from your friend, “Did he say anything?”

“No,” Karina grumbles, “I accidentally let it slip out that this was about your admirer and all he said was, 'Secret admirer, huh? Wouldn't you like to know.'” Karina mocks Jaemin’s voice, rolling her eyes. “But I guess that just proves that he knows something… it’ll just be harder to get it out of him.”

“Jeno’s being suspicious now, too,” you nod your head to the boy.

Sure it could be implied that your admirer was one of the guys, but the way the man had handled your questions was definitely something to take note of.

DECEMBER 10

“Please tell me you’ll be leaving after you finish this?” Another one of your coworkers, Minjeong, was standing at the edge of your cubicle, leaning against the divider. You can tell she’s ready to leave, hands stuffed deep into her pockets, “Everyone’s left besides Mr. Jo.”

Mr. Jo was the custodian.

“I will, I promise.” You don’t even look up from your screen, waving your hand in her direction as if it would make her scurry away, “I’m almost done. Have a good night, Jeongie!”

She returns your farewell and leaves, knowing that you won’t budge until you finish your task.

You genuinely were near completion. You just had a few more points in the report to finish before you reached your goal for tonight and you’ll go home.

Your fingers are flying across your keyboard, fatigued eyes blinking at the words you were producing in hopes that they were coherent. Your brain had shut down an hour ago and now you were on autopilot.

Who cares if it’s coherent if I’m going to edit it anyway? You think. And now you were carelessly typing, making typos left and right.

When you finally finish the draft, you grab your mug from your coaster to put in the office’s sink. Your eyes finally catch a break from staring at the screen for so long, practically feeling your ocular muscles relax. Closing your eyes, you blindly make your way down the pathway, which honestly was easy after the amount of times you’ve made your way down it.

But when your feet hit something that was obviously not as hard as a cubicle wall you freeze.

Shit.

Your eyes fly open and quickly look at what you have unintentionally kicked.

“Jeno?” You blink your eyes a couple times to make sure you aren’t just seeing things.

Sprawled out on his desk was Jeno, fast asleep. There was a small pond of drool underneath his cheek, mouth hanging open. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jeno.” You feel the need to whisper now, leaning over to shake his shoulder. “Jeno!”

He begins to stir, “Huh? Wha?”

“What are you still doing here?” you ask.

One eye stuck closed, he glances around the empty office. The side that he had been lying on was flat as if he had been in that position for a while. Jeno yawns and stretches, his back popping a little as he sits up.

"I was waiting for you to finish," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

You glance at the clock on his computer screen, realizing it's much later than you thought. "Jeno, it's getting late. You didn’t need to wait for me."

He shrugs, a sleepy smile on his face. "I didn't want you to go home alone in the dark. Plus, I figured you might need some company."

You hit him on the shoulder, “You dumbass!”

Jeno winces even though you didn’t even hit him too hard. “Ow!”

“I didn’t even know you were here! Dumbass!” You throw another thwack at his shoulder blade, “You’re lucky I tripped over your foot!” Jeno ignores you and starts getting up, pulling out his packed bag underneath his desk, “You should’ve told me you were gonna wait for me.”

“Yeah, but then you would’ve pushed me onto the elevator so that I could leave,” Jeno replies. "Ready to head home?"

Although you and Jeno don’t live anywhere near each other, your place was on the way to his. Usually, you’d walk home and go sightseeing as you walked past the small shops on the way, but because the weather could freeze your arteries shut, you’re forced to transit home.

"Sure, let's go." You pack up your things quickly, and the two of you head towards the elevator.

As you wait for the elevator doors to open, you glance at Jeno. His eyes are still a bit heavy with sleep, but there's a warmth in them that makes your heart flutter. When he notices you looking, he tightens his lips to give you a tired grin that reaches his eyes. The office is quiet now, only the hum of the elevator breaking the silence.

Once inside, Jeno presses the button for the ground floor, and the elevator starts its descent. The dim lighting casts a soft glow on both of you, and you can't help but appreciate the peaceful moment.

"Long day, huh?" Jeno breaks the silence, his tone sympathetic. “Your secret admirer mystery still bothering you?"

You chuckle and nod, "Yes. But it just makes me more determined to figure it out."

"Any progress?" Jeno raises an eyebrow, curious.

You shake your head, "Not really. It's driving me crazy."

"Maybe it's someone you least expect," Jeno suggests with a playful smile.

"Maybe," you reply, unsure. The elevator doors open, and you both step out and into the nearly empty office lobby. Then you think out loud, eyes narrowing as you look at Jeno through your lashes, “Maybe it’s you.”

The cold wind hits you as you exit the building, making you shiver. You pull your coat tighter around you, and Jeno does the same.

“Why? Do you want it to be me?” Jeno smirks playfully.

“I don’t know,” you lie, “I’m just asking because there’s a possibility it’s you. Besides Chenle and Jisung, you’re the only one willingly asking about him.” That really couldn’t even mean anything, but it’s suspicious. You’re starting to think this was a joke set up by all the guys, and you’re the target.

“Nope, it’s not me,” Jeno stares ahead of you both, and you miss the way he swallows his spit when he says it, “And I don’t know who it is either. That’s why I’m asking.”

You look at him to detect if Jeno was lying—maybe a nose twitch, multiple blinks, or a dishonest glance to the side—nothing.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and not in the way you liked. Because, sure, you didn’t care about who this person was, but for the past week and a half, you’ve been raising your hopes that it was Jeno who had been leaving these presents for you.

You realize that that was a mistake.

A weak laugh shoots out your mouth, almost sounding like a huff and you force a smile on your face, “Well… that’s a relief.”

DECEMBER 15

Losing a bit of interest in your admirer just because it wasn’t the person you wanted it to be wasn’t fair to your actual admirer. Especially when they were still putting the effort into dropping off those presents and writing those letters.

The day after, you had told Karina that Jeno made it clear that your admirer wasn’t him and she refused to believe it, delusion taking over for your sake. She said something along the lines of ‘can’t say it’s not Jeno until there’s solid proof’.

This morning you decided to switch up your strategy and arrive at work early. For the past 2 weeks, these little deliveries had appeared on your desk either after you left or before you arrived, and since you had kept track of who left the office yesterday evening, you were sure that he was going to be coming in early this morning to leave his present.

You greet the security guard in the lobby, leaving your mouth more as a yawn than an actual sentence before you hop onto the elevator and cross your fingers for luck.

The office is quiet and dimly lit as you enter, the only sound being the gears of the elevators turning as the doors slide open. Once you step out, you’re quick to scan the room before ultimately settling your gaze on your desk.

The universe couldn’t have timed this any better.

Standing at your desk, you see a figure, gently placing a wrapped box on your desk. You hold back a gasp, clamping your mouth shut with your palm, not wanting to bring attention to yourself. The man appeared oblivious to the elevator letting someone off, his back still turned to you.

You catch the sound of his satisfied hum, and just before he pivots, you quickly move to a concealed hallway, keeping yourself out of sight. A lingering fear holds you back from confronting whoever this person is, but you so badly want to know who it is. You figured it would make the confronting part easier.

Footsteps grow closer before they stop, and you can easily guess he’s standing in front of the elevators. With curiosity getting the best of you, you risk being seen and lean your head around the corner, just enough so that one of your eyes can see who the boy was.

Another gasp attempts to leave your mouth when you finally recognize who it was.

Jaemin?

The elevator arrives at your floor before you can even process that it was truly him you just saw, almost as if you’ve seen his ghost and he was gone before you knew it.

So your secret admirer was Na Jaemin?

In a way it made sense. You and Karina had ruled him as one of the more suspicious ones. He and Jeno were close, so Jeno being curious about your progress added up. Now you have solid proof that Jaemin actually was your secret admirer.

How were you going to let him down easily?

DECEMBER 19

Despite having the weekend and Karina's assistance to strategize how to break the news to Jaemin, you found yourself at work on Monday without a clear plan. Today, you mentally braced yourself for another gift, feeling a pang of guilt as you realized your friend and coworker had been investing so much effort, only for his feelings to not be returned.

Today’s box was slim and rectangular, wrapped in the paper you’ve grown familiar with. At first glance, it looked like a wine box, but you quickly deemed it too short to be a wine bottle.

With a bit of hesitation, you carefully pick at the paper, ripping it open before you slice the tape that was keeping the box closed. Then you pry the box open, flipping the flaps over so that you can see the item from a bird’s eye view.

Huh?

You pull it out—an umbrella in your favourite colour. On the handle, your initials are engraved into the plastic. The umbrella looked beautiful, but considering the other presents, this was… random.

Your eyes catch sight of a card at the bottom of the box and you stick your arm in to fish it out.

I bet you’re curious as to who I am, right?

I think I kept you waiting far too long for a hint.

A hint?

Your heart picks up its pace and your eyes scramble to keep reading.

Today’s gift? An umbrella.

Bought one for myself and one for you because we need to be prepared next time.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t enjoy being drenched in rain at work.

Your Secret Admirer

A hint.

Hell, it was more than a hint.

Your eyes grow wide as you reread the note over and over, your heartbeat fluttering. It flutters because you know exactly what your admirer was talking about.

Back during the rainy season, the morning you were getting ready for work, you completely disregarded the weather forecast and left your house without an umbrella or an appropriate coat. And much to your stupidity, you told yourself that it wasn’t going to rain that hard when you heeded the darker clouds in the sky.

You realized your mistakes on the walk to work when rain started pouring down from the sky, like someone dumping a bucket of rainwater all over you. You were sprinting, sight impaired by the rain pelting your face, flying past other individuals who had been smart enough to pack heavy-duty umbrellas with them.

Luckily, you finally arrived at your building before you were wet to the bone. When you noticed the elevator was still open, you called out for it, fast-walking through the lobby just so you could catch it.

“Thanks,” you had sighed out, huffing in relief.

The man who had held the elevator open for you laughed and spoke up, “I take it you forgot an umbrella too?”

You laugh at the memory, remembering being thankful that you weren’t the only dumbass who didn’t bring an umbrella—that you weren’t going to be the only one on the floor who would be showing up soaked and dripping wet.

Because Jeno was that other dumbass.

Even with this realization, with this hard evidence that your admirer could actually be Jeno, you still recount your almost-encounter with Jaemin and the fact that Jeno had denied your accusations.

You find yourself caught in a web of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the thoughtful gesture of the umbrella brings back memories of that rainy morning with Jeno. On the other hand, the recent revelation and Jeno's denial cast a shadow of doubt on the identity of your secret admirer.

As you stand there, staring at the umbrella, your brain cells are desperately trying to think up a good explanation for all of this. The evidence seems to point to Jeno, yet you can't ignore the possibility that this might be an elaborate misdirection. Or maybe Jaemin was the misdirection?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the familiar voice of Karina, who has just gotten off the elevator. She notices the umbrella in your hands and grins, "Mr. Admirer? An umbrella?"

You manage a half-smile, the weight of the situation pressing on you. "It’s a hint. There’s a memory tied to it.”

Karina arches an eyebrow, intrigued. "Memory?"

You decide to share the story of that rainy morning with Jeno, how both of you got caught in the downpour without umbrellas. As you recount the details, Karina listens attentively, connecting the dots between the past and the present.

"So, you think Jeno might be your secret admirer because of this shared memory?" she asks, thoughtful. The way her expression brightens at the thought of your admirer actually being Jeno and not Jaemin—just like you wanted.

You shrug, uncertain. "It makes sense, right? But then there's the whole denial part. He flat-out said it's not him."

Karina leans against the reception desk, crossing her arms. "He probably just didn’t want you to find out like that. Maybe he's trying to surprise you later. Who knows?"

You sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity. "I just want to know. I’m this close to banging my head against the corner of my desk."

Karina snorts and nudges you playfully. "Confront him again but this time, give him no choice but to confess."

You consider Karina's suggestion, realizing that confronting Jeno might be the only way to unravel this mystery. Gathering your resolve, you decide to have a direct conversation with him, determined to get to the bottom of your secret admirer's identity.

DECEMBER 20

Who would’ve thought that confronting your secret admirer would be nerve-wracking? Cause what if it really wasn’t Jeno and you were making a fool out of yourself?

It’s your break and you’re sitting at one of the lounge tables with Karina and Minjeong, playing with the edge of your instant ramen cup.

You’re replaying how you want the situation to go down in your head. You want to go up to him, make small talk, he small talks back, you confront him, and he admits it—easier said than done. But your goal was to do it by the end of the day, mostly because you know that if you kept this going for any longer, you’d actually go crazy.

Minjeong and Karina are talking about something, you’re not quite sure what it was when Ningning joins in, “Did Giselle pass by?”

Karina shakes her head, “Haven’t seen her.”

Ningning pouts, “I was going to ask her someth—”

And again, you tune them out—not on purpose.

The voice in your head is screaming Jeno repeatedly and it’s driving you insane. You want it to stop, but the only way you can do so is by confronting him.

Then the door opens again and in comes Jeno and Jaemin, laughing about something Donghyuck and Mark related. Karina notices the way your eyes divert toward their direction and she tries to catch your attention, jerking her head in their direction. Eyes widening, you shake your head as if you were saying not now.

“Shit, I got coffee on my shirt,” you hear Jeno huff.

From where you were sitting, you could see Jeno turning to show Jaemin the coffee stain on his white shirt, pouting. Jaemin laughs, “That’s what you get for using a broken bottle. Just buy a new one.”

Jeno pouts, “You buy one for me, then.”

At first, you don’t pay attention to their conversation, passing it off as the usual banter between the two, but then it clicks. Your mouth speaks before you can even process everything, “It’s you!”

The room grows silent but, frankly, you don’t care because now you’re sure it was Jeno.

Other than the umbrella and the memory, the only other hint other than handwriting were the water and coffee stains that the cards were always covered in (and you and Karina were still unsure whether that was on purpose or not).

Jeno’s bottle was broken.

You rise abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. Rounding the tables, you navigate toward to get to Jeno, heart beating against your rib cage. Once he is within your reach, you snatch him by the wrist and drag him out of the lounge room and into the hallway.

“Dumbass!” you smack his shoulder, “It was you! Liar!” You weren’t angry, in fact, you were laughing, disbelief etched on your face.

Jeno looks off to the side, “I… don’t know what you’re talking about…” He’s horribly holding a smile back, cheekbones growing prominent from his attempt.

“Don’t play dumb,” you say, “The umbrella hint was enough for me to know it was you!”

Jeno unleashes his smile, physically shrinking and lowering his head as his cheeks grow hot from your statement. “I didn’t think you’d remember it that easily…”

"You've been driving me insane, you know that?" You shake your head, still processing the revelation. "I even thought it was Jaemin for a bit. All this time, it was you!"

“Did you… want it to be Jaemin?”

You shake your head, “Honestly, I was relieved it was you… no offense to Jaemin. Why didn’t you admit to it when I asked you?”

“Probably a similar reason for why you said ‘that’s a relief’ when I said it wasn’t me,” Jeno counters, slowly regaining his confidence.

You chuckle, realizing the playful banter unfolding between you and Jeno. "Good point."

He grins, "Plus, watching you try to figure it out was entertaining." There’s a mischievous glint in Jeno’s eyes as he's holding back a smile.

You cross your arms, glaring up at him, "So you enjoyed torturing me?"

Jeno panics slightly, shaking his head, "No! It’s not like I was torturing you! It was just something fun! I liked seeing your reactions!"

You playfully roll your eyes. "You're lucky I like you."

Jeno freezes, “Wait, you like me like me?”

You look at Jeno as if he just said the dumbest shit that’s ever come out of someone’s mouth. “Lee Jeno, I literally told you I was relieved it was you and you think I don’t have feelings for you?” You want to smack him again.

“Yes?”

Smack.

“Ow!” Jeno rubs his arm and frowns.

“Of course I like you!” You’re looking up at Jeno, “I was working my ass off trying to figure out who my admirer was because I had hopes that it was you!”

Jeno's eyes widen with surprise, and then a broad grin stretches across his face. "You... really?" he stammers, almost disbelieving, “So would… this be the right time to ask you on a date?”

You stuck out your bottom lip and shrug, half-joking, “I mean… it’s the least you can do after putting me through all that.”

“You’re right,” Jeno laughs. He takes a step closer, looking down at you with the world’s prettiest smile, “So will you?”

“Will I, what?” you tease, staring back up at him.

“Will you go out with me?”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @reignessance

an: the answer is yes 👀,,, Felix's is up next and it's gonna be cute

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storm-angel989 · 11 months ago

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hey could you do a Valentino x Daughter Reader where the Vees/Angel finds out that Reader has been starving herself and taking pills that make her lose weight?

Hi there,

So I did write one of these already (check out my master list!) but I wrote another version because you asked to include Angel Dust. Diet pills are another thing I have personal experience with, and I promise you they're not worth it. As hard as it is somedays, our bodies are worthy of love and respect always <3

<3 Mandy

Privacy had never really been a big deal to me.

Growing up the tech overlord’s niece, I was acutely aware that anything and everything I brought, sent, typed, created, handed in was subject to scrutiny by my Uncle Vox. Not that he went out of his way to divulge into my personal life, but there had definitely been a few times I had been reminded of his power to keep tabs on me.

It wasn’t until I started dieting to get more into shape for the upcoming school year that Vox’s constant monitoring became an issue.

It started with the ballerina tea in September. Something my friends at school swore up and down would help me trim down before the holiday season. For the first time in my life, I heard whispers- too big, too small. Just right. Fashion presented in a way even my Aunt Velvette hadn’t shown me. As we thumbed through magazines, shifted through racks of clothes at the local mall, I slowly started to see my friend’s point, and everything my body wasn’t.

Thoughtlessly, I clicked on the order now button and in minutes, my phone rang.

“Hey, kid. I canceled your order. You can’t drink that stuff, it will seriously mess up your gut,” my Uncle Vox’s voice came through on the line.

I felt shame spread across my face. Not a single parental figure in my life had ever scolded me for what I wanted to put in my body. Hell, my Dad even let me have ice cream for breakfast one morning when my Mom was out of town. Why was my Uncle Vox even remotely paying attention to what I wanted to drink? Embarrassment. Did he not know just how flawed I was?

Somewhere inside, a little voice told me to keep quiet.

“Reader? Did you hear me?” Vox’s voice repeated.

“Ye-yeah, Uncle Vox, sorry,” I squeaked out. “I just…my friends at school they…”

“If your friends at school all jumped off a cliff, would you? I can make a doctor's appointment if you’d like and she can explain exactly what…”

“No, no, Uncle Vox. I’m good,” I replied quickly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, kiddo.”

I hung up the phone in dismay as cracks in my fantasies began to form. How exactly was I supposed to be thinner if I was hitting a wall trying to use the resources available to me? How was I supposed to look like the models on the cover of Aunt Velvette’s magazines if I kept doing what I was doing? I needed help, but from where?

My answer lay in the network of friends I had available to me. A quiet whisper- folded notes with paper currency passed in study hall returned with white powder filled capsules.

Drink a glass of water and take one pill three times a day, the note back read.

Instructions I could follow easily, and all it took was downing that first pill to get me absolutely hooked. I couldn’t pinpoint when I slowly started to cut back on what I ate, or when the little voice inside my head started to tell me I didn’t deserve food. That the number on the scale was the only thing that mattered and the faster the number went down, the happier the voice inside my head became. Beauty, numbers, purity took over my thoughts.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I decided that voice had a name. Ana. And she was my only friend in the entire world.

Two months passed before my world came crashing down.

“Hey babe, I know you’re on your way out the door, but meet me in my studio afterschool today, hm?” My fathers voice carried across the kitchen.

I froze. On my normal day to day, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near my fathers business office- or studio, as he called it. I was well aware of what he was in the business of, but he did his best to keep me from it. Or at least, from the worst of it.

“Why?” I asked, my back turned to him.

“You have a half day. Your Aunt and Uncle both have meetings, so you’ll be doing your homework in my office tonight,” he replied. “And I received several forms in the mail from the school. You need a physical before winter season begins, so we might as well get that done. And then I’ll take you out to lunch. It’s been awhile since we’ve spent time together.”

The entire thing sounded like my current worst nightmare. I struggled to come up with the words to try to get out of it.

“But I was going to go to…I have plans, I…”

“Bebita, whatever plans you have, consider them canceled. In my studio, by twelve. The limo will pick you up. That’s all.” Valentino finished.

An overwhelming sense of dread washed over me. Ana’s voice grew louder, nonsense that I couldn’t discern. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see my way out of this. Anxiety flooded through me and I worried my way through the entire morning. In truth, I had planned on making up the extra steps I was losing by leaving early at the school gym before I went home.

Just take an extra dose, Ana whispered. And double each dose, even. Make up for those extra steps missed, and the extra calories I was sure I would end up taking in. A sense of relief washed over me. Of course. Ana always knew what to do.

I walked into my father’s studio, backpack slung over his shoulder. Noticeably empty was my father’s directors chair. On stage, Angel sat on the bed, wrapped in his pink red trimmed robe. I brightened up instantly. Angel was the only employee of my father’s I knew, the only one I had any sort of relationship with.

“Hey sweetheart,” Angel said cheerfully. He stood up and walked over to me. “Yer Daddy said you were coming in, how’s school?”

I shrugged. “Fine. Where is Dad?” I glanced at the clock. Twelve thirty. I needed to duck out and take that fourth dose now if I wanted it to be effective. “I have a ton of homework and I want to get started.”

“In a meetin’, but you can use my dressing room,” he replied as he sashayed across the floor.

I followed him and he pushed open the door, ushering me inside.

“Trust me, your gonna wanna hang tight, Val- er, your Dad’s mood is gonna be good or bad dependin on how this meetin’ goes,” Angel told me.

I settled myself on the couch and dug around in my backpack. Behind me, Angel took a seat at his vanity and picked up a brush. I seized the opportunity to unscrew my water bottle and pull out the plastic bag of pills. I had just swallowed the two capsule when a hand plucked the bag out of mine.

Shit.

“Hey, kid. Whatcha got there?” Angel asked as he held the bag up to his face.

“Give those back, they’re mine!” I yelled as I jumped to my feet. “Angel, give them to me!”

Angel ignored me and instead took the bag over to his vanity. I watched in dismay as he cracked open one of the clear capsules and inspected the contents.

“How many of these did you take?” He asked.

Silence for a heartbeat.

“Does your Dad know you’re taking these?” Was his next question.

“No, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him,” I growled. “Angel, give them back!”

He crossed his arms, plastic bag in hand. “Only if you tell me how many you’ve taken today,” he replied.

“Four this morning. Four at ten. And I just took four. And I need to take another two tonight,” I replied sharply. “Now give them back.”

Surprise shot across his face. “You took twelve of them? Are you fuckin stupid?” He turned back to his desk and started to rummage through it. “Fucking stupid kids,” he muttered as he came up with a bright orange bottle. I watched as he poured the liquid into the cap. “Here, take this now or I’m goin right to Val,” he thrust the medication to me. “Now, or else. I mean it.”

“Angel! I…”

“I said, now or I go pull your Daddy from his meetin and trust me, he’s gonna be pissed,” Angel shot back.

I didn’t doubt any of that. Reluctantly, I took the cap and swallowed the contents. “There, now give me back my pills.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he replied. He reached out and grabbed my upper arm. “Come with me, otherwise you’re gonna puke all over my dressin room and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

“Angel!” I protested as he practically dragged me across the studio floor. “Angel where are we…”

He shoved me into the nurses office and yelled to the lady at the front desk to page Valentino. Without waiting, he opened the bathroom door and shoved me inside. My anger turned to pain as my stomach cramped and I felt his hands pull my hair back as I emptied my belly of its contents.

“That’a girl,” Angel muttered. “Yeah, get it all out.”

“Fuck you Angel, I’m fine,” I snarled.

“Yeah, cause I make you puke. If I hadn’t, you’d have been dead in about twenty more minutes,” he replied. “Yer Dad’s on the way.”

“Oh fuck you,” I snarled as the nurse came in. “I swear I…”

Whatever I was going to say stopped as a wave of dizziness hit me. I felt Angel help me kneel to the floor and laid me on my side. The feeling of hands on my chest, my fathers voice as my reality turned black.

When I came to, I was sitting upright in a hospital bed. Wires attached to my chest and a plethora of monitors surrounded me. A tickle in my throat and I tried to cough as I raised my hand to itch my face. My fingers hit tape and plastic and I couldn’t Groggily, I strained to hear the noise on the other side of the door.

“Val, I saw it in the mirror. She was sitting on the couch and she swallowed a few, but I got her to tell me how much she took. I had to make her puke or she woulda…” Angel’s desperate voice.

“Where the fuck did she find that shit?” My father’s voice growled. “How the fuck did my daughter get ahold of that…Angel, just…” His tone shifted to frustration. Silence, and a sigh. “You did the right thing. Probably saved her. Just go, consider this shoot canceled and take the night. Go to the hotel or whatever it is you do, I need to handle this…situation.”

“Just, will ya lemme know when she wakes up?” Angel’s voice pleaded. “Val, if what she took was what I thought, she coulda died.”

“I know. And I will.” My father’s voice was softer. “Go.”

Time passed and I felt myself slip in out of consciousness. I was vaguely aware of my father fussing, flashes of Angel, my Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette. But for the most part I stayed asleep. At some point, the tickle in my throat vanished, but the needle in my arm stayed. It could have been a week, or maybe a day when I could I finally held myself awake long enough to hear what was going on. A few blinks, and I could make out my father’s figure standing next to my Aunt and Uncle at the base of the bed.

“We’re lucky we caught it when we did, she’s lost some weight. Her bloodwork isn’t great, but it’s fixable. It’s more important now that she connects with a therapist and…” said an unfamiliar voice.

“Daddy?” Even to me, my voice sounded scratchy. “Daddy?”

Four heads turned to me. The Doctor walked over and began to check the monitors.

“Good to see you awake, baby girl,” my Uncle Vox said as he brushed away an invisible strand of hair. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” I asked as my father sat on the side of the bed. “Why am I in the hospital?”

“Maybe you want to fill us in,” Velvette suggested.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I would suggest waiting for the thera-”

“Leave us. This is a family matter for the time being,” my father commanded with the authority only an overlord of hell could have.

I watched as he instantly turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him. My father turned his attention back to me. I hung my head and after a few moments of quiet, Valentino’s voice filled the air.

“Let me break it down for you. Angel watched you- from the mirror- swallow two pills. You told him those were the twelfth ones you had taken that day. He, because he isn’t a dumbass and has probably taken them himself, recognizes them right away and forces ippapec down your throat. He gets you to the nurse and you vomit until you pass out. I show up, and we decide that your stomach needs to be pumped. Doc asks me how much you weigh and I realize that somehow, since September, you’ve lost about twenty seven pounds. Tell me, muñeca, how exactly does that happen?”

For the first time since this all began, Ana went silent. Without that voice to guide me, I swallowed back my nerves.

“I went on a diet. I took diet pills, Dad. That’s what Angel got all mad about.”

“And rightly so,” Velvette interrupted. “All diet pills are dangerous, but the ones you took? They’re ten times as strong. Combined with skipping meals, they’ll wreck your body.”

“And don’t try to tell us you wern’t,” Vox added. “I reviewed the footage. We saw it all, honey.”

I looked down at the blanket. “So what happens now? Am I grounded?”

Silence from the three of them. I felt my fathers hand on mine and his finger tilted my chin up.

“I don’t think you quiet get the point. You almost died, honey. I…”

I watched an expression I couldn’t quite read flit across his face. He took a deep breath before he continued.

“Here is the plan. Now that you’re awake, you’re going to talk to a doctor. As soon as you get the all clear, you can go home. We can figure out where to go from then, but for now…for now honey, I’m just glad you’re alive.”

I reached for him and my father folded me into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I wasn’t trying to die, I…”

“Don’t be sorry. We’ll figure it out. I promise. I love you, mi amore,” he replied softly. “We all love you. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

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iamcinephile · 1 month ago

Text

Accepting what I saw, yet frustated with the contradictions

The idea was great, but the execution felt off. I’ve been trying to make sense of it—finally coming to terms with what I saw. Maybe it would all seem amazing through “Nick’s love glasses,” but taking those off, well… here’s my take after some reflection. I'm trying to come to terms with the writers' decision—specifically in Season 6—to take Lawrence and Nick’s storylines in this direction.

I’ve been trying to view it from their intended perspective, but the execution felt bit-off. The writing was sloppy, which made it hard for me to feel emotionally connected to what should have been a powerful sequence. It looked cinematic, great music, good DRAMA, sure, but not me, it lacked the payoff, pure shock value they were clearly aiming for. Instead, it came across as a shortcut in the storytelling, rushing big decisions without proper buildup.

For example, seeing June walk freely through an airport with no security felt unrealistic, especially considering she was being hanged earlier that same day without any bruises or visible trauma. These inconsistencies and plot holes made it hard for me to accept the narrative choices.

Nick choosing to stay in Gilead for his wife and child makes sense—especially because June never gave him a real chance to explain himself. That storyline made more sense when viewed only within the context of this season. But it’s still frustrating. June has shown a willingness to repeatedly give people like Lawrence, Serena, and Aunt Lydia the benefit of the doubt—constantly searching for the good in them. Yet when Nick makes a single mistake, she shuts him out. Her forgiveness feels selective and, frankly, selfish. “She told me to give all this up,” Nick said to Lawrence, who replied, “You should have listened to her.” Lawrence had a touching goodbye with June before he stepped on the plane, but Nick and June — the show’s biggest romance since season one — never got that moment

So yes, her silence toward him fits this episode, not calling him out, it's correct. but if the roles were reversed, I doubt the show would handle it the same way. We will never know. Then there’s the line where Nick tells Lawrence that June asked him to leave many times—something we never actually saw on screen. That kind of retroactive storytelling makes it harder to understand Nick’s motivations. And goes against what it feels like he would give up everything if he had the chance to have a future with her. Since he was "nothing" outside of her eyes. So, he wasn’t naive—he stayed because he felt had no real option since he was SoJ, now with his new family.

But again, at end day, he could indeed, do better choices and help June more with Hannah, or even leave Gilead by almost anytime since he is Eye and Commander, or when Tuello give that offer in Season 5, if not for June, for himself.

But again I honestly believe if he had been given that opportunity from her, he would’ve taken it, just like he expressed back in episode 3 of this same season.

Overall it's tragic situation. And fulll of contradictions.

I wish the writers had left that line out because it felt out of character and added more confusion. They made audience felt betrayed.

Overall, I just wish this part of the story had been handled with the same care and nuance as previous seasons. Maybe then these character arcs would’ve felt more believable and satisfying with this outcome, not just for Nick or Lawrence.

I’m glad others enjoyed it, but for me, the show went from being a standout piece of television to feeling more like a soap opera riddled with plot holes.

In the end, it’s just a TV show. Life moves on.

Like Nick, I just wish the writers had made better choices.

I'm going watch the finale. This story is more than love triangle, I had higher hopes that the focus was more June's motherhood and taking down the regime in last two season than dragging this love-plot drama and redeem the wrong characters. This season that Jezebel's mission look like more sidequest mission wasn't fitting to this story, Hannah wasn't mentioned this season, at all.

I wish I could easily root for June, too selfish, by this point!

(Don't blame me, because I thought that TT was canon)

I hope some day, I can look back I enjoy this show again. :)

#the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #max minghella #elisabeth moss #tht spoilers #osblaine #june osborne #joseph lawrence

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bloomzone · 2 months ago

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hii!! im new to this entire girlblogging thing and it all seems so exciting and fun ><! it really motivates me

i dont really know how to go about it though :( like how do i girlblog?? what is girlblogging like exactly?? like i get the idea of it but what do u "exactly" do? sorry if this sounds silly 😭😭

and seriously i love love lovee ur page so much !! it has made me so much more productive and im satisfied with my progress :D

hope u have a great day ahead tysm for reading through this :3

hii angel !!

first of all you're so cute for this message and not silly at all i promise!! i was literally in your place once like staring at girlblogs thinking, “omg this is so pretty and motivating but... what do i actually do??”

so i’m super happy you asked here’s everything i’ve learned, and a veery siiimple way how to start a blog !

🗒️ i’m so sorry for not answering earlier or maybe my answer is not effective 100% i’ve been entering my exam season lately so things have been a bit crazy, and i haven’t had the time to talk much or reply to everyone in my inbox. i didn’t want you to feel ignored or left there especially after such a sweet and kind message like yours.

girlblogging isn’t about being perfect or aesthetic 24/7

it’s about showing up for yourself it’s like ur own little soft space on the internet where you post the things that matter to you, your goals, your routines, your messy thoughts, your progress, your healing or playlists .. whatever makes you feel like you.

you can make it look cute if you want (and trust me it's fun ) but the real magic is when you post with meaning.

when i started my girlblog…

i made this blog honestly because i needed to hold myself accountable. i was struggling with discipline, with staying on track, with self-worth... and i told myself:

“if i create a space where i act like i’m becoming the best version of me maybe i’ll actually become her.”

and that’s exactly what started happening.

so like when i post about discipline or motivation or glow ups ... I’m not just sharing advice. i’m reminding myself too j don’t post things just because they’re trendy. i post things that reflect where i am or where i want to be.

and once i achieve something i love sharing what helped me because maybe it'll help another girl too. THAT'S A GIRL BLOGGER

so how do you start?

this is what i recommend:

grab a piece of paper or just open your notes app and write:

what’s something i care about right now?

what’s helping me grow?

what’s something i wish i had guidance on?

and then start posting about that.

for example:

﹙ ✿ ﹚ if you’re focused on becoming more organized, post your routines, planners, study tips, or cozy to-do lists

﹙ ✿ ﹚ if you’re trying to glow up, post your skincare, your healthy habits, your challenges (10 days of productivity / 10 days for building a habits .... )

﹙ ✿ ﹚ if you’re healing, post your affirmations, journal prompts, or how you’re learning to treat yourself kindly

you don’t need a niche seriously.

girlblogging isn’t about fitting into a box. it’s not “only” skincare or “only” study stuff. it’s about being a whole human.

some girls post about beauty, some about healing, some about routines, some about faith or wellness or school or food or writing or dreams...

and some post about all of it.

how do you grow?

this part gets easier the more you enjoy what you’re posting (read that again.)

💌 post consistently (even small stuff counts! And always reblog stuff that inspir you)

💌 interact with other girlbloggers comment, follow, hype them up it builds the cutest community ever

💌 use tags like #girlblog #girlbogger #selfgrowth #studyblog ... it helps people find you

💌 and most importantly: be honest, be kind, and be real.

one of the most helpful things i learned:

→ post what you need to see not what looks cool not what everyone else is doing but what you wish someone had told you. what you needed when you were feeling lost.

that’s how my blog started growing when i began writing like i was helping my past self. and yes other girls needed those same words too so u don’t have to have it all figured out. you just need to start.

thank you again for saying such sweet things about my blog knowing it helped you feel productive and satisfied with your progress actually made me tear up you’re gonna do amazing, i can feel it and if you ever need support, inspiration, or anything i’m right here !

now go post something you love and let the journey begin<3

@bloomzone

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odileeclipse · 2 months ago

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Just checking up on you cutie pie! How you doinnn

hello!! I guess I'll take this as an opportunity to update on everything

on a personal level I am doing my best exam season is making me cry, but writing has helped me destress, however it's been hard to juggle everything especially on a social level because guys when I study, I sit down and DND EVERYTHING.

I don't remember if I ever shared that for last semester or I don't even remember when I got rid of my phone for 2 weeks just to study I made it so my friend had like parental controls on my stuff so I could only study, and I didn't have a single social interaction throughout the whole thing no texting or messaging or even really communicating with my friends, was it worth it?

Honestly no not really, did I pass?

Yes...but that's correlation not causation.

Other than all of that I am okay but I am a little delayed on replying to my dms, so sorry about that y'all <3 I promise it's not you, even my irls are struggling to get a hold of me but that's because in my head I think "Oh I'm studying I'll get to it later" later does not come because I end up hyperfocusing LOL

but I am actually doing well guys all in all I am doing great for myself!

I don't talk a lot about my personal life on my blog because this is my fanfic account that I just write on and I think people are just here for the writing which is fine! I mean that's literally what my account is for, but for the few that like to read my thoughts these posts are for you.

I actually met someone pretty special recently so that's always fun, one of the best parts of my day really! (other than you guys and writing) I don't answer them as much as I'd like to (due to exams) but they're a lovely person really.

So despite everything I am doing okay thank you for asking it made me really reflect and reflection is always a good thing.

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pinchofhoney · 2 years ago

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Can I get a Jack request where reader is like castiel level protective over him? Like it could he during the time he was burning away his soul, or Dean just attacking him and reader getting super protective? Thanks <3

Also thank you sm for being my mutual <333

like real people do

jack kline x reader

word count: 1.6k

warning: the events were made up by me, but in time they probably take place in thirteenth season, platonic relationship

summary: Ever had one of those days when life just can't get any worse?

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! once i read the first four words and found out it was about jack i was so happy! this character makes me feel like hiding him in my jacket pocket and protecting him from the whole world, including my favourite white boy; dean. i hope you will enjoy it!!<33 it's so funny that we clicked so quickly because of ketch hahah

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

What does it mean to have a bad day? For some, it might involve a pointless hunt for a missing sock in the early hours. Others might deem it a disastrous day if they find themselves in a nerve-wracking business meeting, their professional future hanging by a thread, only to be unexpectedly showered in scalding coffee. But let me tell you, what went down in South Dakota, well, that was beyond any bad day anyone's ever had.

Walking down the bunker's cold, metal stairs, your eyes stayed fixed on Sam's broad back. The echoes of two more pairs of footsteps behind you added an unspoken burden to all four of you. The lengthy, six-hour drive from Sioux Falls passed in silence, punctuated only by the occasional growl of Dean's car engine.

In the midst of this oppressive silence, a tangible anxiety filled the atmosphere, much like the sensation of holding a grenade with a fragile safety pin. Each of you knew that speaking the first word out loud could be equivalent to pulling that pin, possibly setting off a surge of emotions and consequences you weren't prepared to deal with at that moment.

As you finally reached the colossal table stationed at the heart of the spacious room, you wearily rested your hands on the chair's backrest, your head drooping in helpless resignation. A deep sigh escaped your lungs, carrying the weight of the day's exhaustion. In the stillness that followed, you could discern Sam's chair scraping against the floor on the opposite side of the table as he settled himself heavily into it and Dean's footsteps resonated down the corridor, indicating his retreat to the kitchen.

Lifting your exhausted head, you gave a quick once-over to your disheveled clothing, recognizing its disorder. It had not only withstood the harsh impact of multiple falls today but was also stained with splotches of blood. Nervously, you ran your hand through your hair, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. Pushing away from the chair, you turned on your heel, scanning the room with a sense of restless anticipation.

You stopped your gaze on the young man by the stairs, who had stayed there the whole time. His face showed a mix of confusion, sympathy, and regret. Your lower lip was gently caught between your teeth as you pondered your next steps. When his gaze met yours, you drew a shallow breath. His appearance wasn't any better than yours, but because he was still Lucifer's son, he appeared more composed than you.

With determination, you approached him step by cautious step until you were standing alongside him. “Jack, are you alright?” you asked, your voice reflecting genuine worry. A quick glance back at Sam, who remained seated at the table, revealed that he was now observing your interaction. You then shifted your attention back to Jack, waiting for his response.

Jack's reply hung in the air like a heavy cloud, his voice a somber murmur that revealed the depth of his guilt. His gaze dropped to his fidgeting hands, fingers twisting in anguish as he confessed, “It's all my fault...”

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy as you witnessed the torment in Jack's eyes. In an attempt to ease the crushing weight of his self-blame, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” you said gently, your voice a soothing balm, “you're not alone in this. None of us expected it to go down like that.”

Sam, the voice of reason, chimed in from his seat at the table. His tone was calm and reassuring as he added, “Jack, we knew it wouldn't be easy. We'll figure this out together.”

Jack looked up at both of you. His eyes were pools of sorrow, and he seemed on the brink of tears, even though he didn’t know what emotions are. “But you guys almost got killed because of me. I couldn't control my powers, and I let them get too close.”

Before you could offer words of reassurance, Dean's voice cut through the room like a sharp blade, “That’s damn right,” he snapped. His anger was palpable, and you could feel the tension rise as he entered with a bottle of beer in his hand. You had been so focused on Jack's emotions that you hadn't noticed Dean approaching.

Your attention shifted to Dean, and it was clear that he had no intentions of concealing his rage. Such suppression was never in his nature. He scrutinized both of you with an intense gaze, his jaw clenched tight, the lines of his face etched with frustration and anger.

Dean proceeded to the table, his movements forceful as he shoved one chair back with a grating screech before taking a seat. The bottle of beer landed on the table with a heavy thud, emphasizing his simmering anger, and the room seemed to shrink with the weight of his emotions. It was a moment where words hung in the balance, and the fragile tension in the air threatened to shatter at any moment.

Jack’s connection to his human emotions was weak, but regret had clear place in his eyes, keenly sensed Dean's anger. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he shifted uncomfortably, his body language a reflection of the confusion within him. In a moment of desperation, he cast a furtive glance in your direction, silently pleading for support, his eyes searching for any sign of comfort.

You, on the other hand, found yourself torn between conflicting emotions. Your heart ached for Jack, understanding the crushing guilt that weighed on him, yet you also knew the importance of not undermining Dean's authority. It was a delicate balancing act that you had become all too familiar with, navigating in these tense moments.

Dean finally broke the oppressive silence, his voice laced with bitterness that hung in the air like a heavy cloud. “You know, Jack, your little power surge not only almost got us killed, but it also cost us Castiel at the very beginning of your existence. You may not remember, but he sacrificed himself to save you.”

Jack's expression remained stoic, but his eyes bore the weight of remorse as he regarded the hunter. “I didn't ask him to,” he replied, his voice carrying the burden of the past.

Dean's face remained unyielding, his anger unwavering in the face of Jack's distress. He leaned forward, his gaze locked on the young Nephilim. “Doesn't change the fact that he's gone because of you.”

The room seemed to shrink with the intensity of the moment, emotions swirling like a storm around the three of you. Jack's regret was a silent force, Dean's anger an unrelenting presence, and you, caught in the middle, felt the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy shroud.

You decided to step in, taking a deep breath to calm yourself as you tried to ease the heavy tension in the room. You spoke gently, "Dean, listen," in a calm and careful way, "Jack didn't want these powers, and he didn't want Cas to save him. None of us knew this would happen."

Dean looked at you, his anger softening just a bit as he heard your caring tone. You had been through a lot with the Winchesters, so you knew how emotions could run high.

But Dean, being stubborn as ever, couldn't let go of his anger towards Jack. He narrowed his eyes at you and replied with bitterness,

“Yeah, well, empathy won't bring Cas back,” he retorted, the pain of loss seeping through every syllable. “Neither will help any of the people who have been harmed today, because of him.”

Jack, still struggling to contain his emotions, lowered his head in acknowledgment. He understood the depth of Dean's anger, and he carried the weight of guilt knowing that nothing he said could bring back the angel who had given his life to protect him.

You exchanged a quick, supportive glance with Jack, a silent understanding passing between you two. Then, you turned your steady attention back to Dean, determined to break through the walls of resentment that had formed around him. “We're all hurting, Dean,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity. “But pointing fingers and blaming Jack won't change the past. We have to move forward together if we're going to face the challenges that lie ahead.”

Dean's jaw clenched, and he took another long, deliberate sip from his beer bottle, as if using the act as a moment of respite from his simmering anger. It was clear that he was still seething, but your words had managed to make some impact, no matter how small.

“Fine,” he grumbled, his anger not completely gone but his tone less harsh. He reluctantly agreed to try and move forward, but he was still stubborn. “But don't think for a second that I'm okay with any of this.”

You nodded, acknowledging Dean's raw emotions. “We know you're not, Dean. But we're a team, and we need to stick together.”

Jack, encouraged by your words and Dean's reluctant acceptance, finally found the courage to speak up again. “I promise, I'll do everything in my power to make amends and prove myself to all of you.”

Dean's gaze remained fixed on his beer bottle, and while he didn't offer immediate forgiveness or approval, he also didn't object further. It was a tenuous truce, fragile as glass, but it was some kind of a start, and everyone knows that the beginnings are always the hardest.

#platonic relationships #no use of y/n #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #jack kline #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline imagine #jack kline scenario #jack kline x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #alexander calvert #alexander calvert fanfiction #alexander calvert x reader

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erraticrandomficwriter · 6 months ago

Text

Below the cut is Season 1 Episode 2 of my Ginny and Georgia Fanfic; My Mother's Daughter

At the bleak hour of 3 AM, Alex jolted awake, heart pounding, and sweat slicking her brow from another nightmare. Try as she might, sleep eluded her. She sighed and reached for her notepad; a song idea had sprouted from the chaos of her dreams, and she wasn’t about to let it slip away.

Alex’s creativity wasn’t confined to just writing stories and poems. She also sang, played the guitar, and wrote songs. Unlike Ginny, who excelled at the piano, Alex kept her musical talents hidden. Georgia probably didn’t even know she could play the guitar. Alex had picked up playing the guitar in music class back in Texas and now imagined the chords since she didn’t have one of her own.

She often felt overshadowed by Ginny and preferred to keep some things to herself to avoid comparisons.

As she was finishing her lyrics, she heard Georgia and Ginny talking in the other room. She tried to ignore it until something about Chewbacca caught her attention. Curiosity piqued, she went to Ginny’s room and saw her sister plucking a hair from their mother’s chin with a pair of tweezers.

“I’m not awake enough for this,” Alex muttered, shaking her head before returning to her room and closing the door.

Restlessness gnawed at her, making her feel as though she couldn’t sit still. She loved her home in Wellsbury but sometimes felt an overwhelming urge to move, to do anything but remain idle.

Abandoning her half-finished song, Alex decided to prepare for school. Getting ready and having breakfast early would give her a legitimate reason to leave the house without sneaking out. With that plan in mind, she set about her morning routine, hoping the activity would help settle her restless energy.

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Alex’s plan worked perfectly. She got ready, had breakfast, left a note saying she had left for school, and was out of the house before anyone else was even downstairs. She found a quiet spot in the school’s hallway and resumed her songwriting as she waited for the first bell. he was so lost in her creative flow that when a small package landed on her lap out of nowhere, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Jesus!” she exclaimed, her heart racing.

“I’ve been called worse,” Press said with a grin, plopping down next to her and glancing at her notebook. “Working on another poem?”

“A song, actually,” Alex replied, closing the notebook and examining the package. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” Press said with a shrug, tearing into his own. “If you’re here this early, I figured you might’ve skipped eating.” He handed her a carton of milk to go with it.

“Thanks,” Alex said with a grateful smile, accepting the milk. “I know why I’m here this early, but what about you?”

“The cafeteria makes killer turnovers for breakfast,” Press replied, his gaze fixed on something across the hall as he ate.

Alex knew better than to pry when someone didn’t want to talk. She despised it when people did it to her, so she wasn’t going to do it to Press. Instead, she set the milk carton beside her, opened her package, and said, “I’ll be the judge of that.” She tore off a piece of the turnover and popped it into her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise. “Holy apples, Batman – this is amazing!”

Press nearly choked on his milk but managed to recover with a smug smile. “Told you.” He studied Alex for a moment, clearly debating whether to ask her something.

Noticing his hesitation, Alex waved her hand in front of his face. “What’s up with your face?”

“Why did you take a picture of your fractured reflection and write that poem for your self-portrait?” Press asked, his voice steady.

Alex wasn’t expecting that. She looked away, biting her lip in thought before answering, “We’re not close enough for me to tell you that.” She was referring to an incident involving a bee, not what had happened with Kenny. She doubted she’d ever tell him about the bee; she didn’t want him to see her differently after knowing.

Press didn’t push further. “Okay,” he said, finishing the last bit of his turnover and his milk. He got up and threw his trash away in a nearby barrel. When he returned, he held out his hand to help Alex off the floor. “The classroom should be unlocked by now.”

Alex took his hand, tossed her trash, and together they walked to their first-period classes.

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“Where were you this morning?” Ginny asked, sliding into her seat beside Alex in AP English.

“Over the rainbow sipping tea with the Mad Hatter and the Scarecrow,” Alex replied, not lifting her eyes from her notebook.

“Is that a euphemism for something, or are you just avoiding the question?” Ginny pressed, genuinely puzzled.

Alex finally looked up and beamed, “Yes,” before diving back into her writing. She’d let Ginny puzzle over that one.

The bell rang, cutting off any further questions. However, as soon as class was over and they lined up to get their quizzes back, Ginny cornered her again. “I’m serious, where were you? Mom was freaking out until she saw your note.”

“I highly doubt that,” Alex replied coolly. “Besides, you said she saw my note, which clearly stated I was going to school early. So why are you asking me where I was?” Alex’s patience was wearing thin, and Ginny’s persistence wasn’t helping.

“I think what Ginny really wants to know is if you snuck out to hook up with Press before school,” Maxine chimed in with a smirk.

“Oh my deity of your choosing,” Alex groaned, rolling her eyes. Her attention snapped back to the teacher, who announced that only one student had a perfect score and that Hunter Chen was the one to beat. When Ginny and Alex got their quizzes back, both were scored 100%. “Racism is real, yo,” Alex muttered sarcastically as she exited the classroom, echoing Ginny’s words from their first day.

At her locker, Alex suddenly felt someone’s presence far too close behind her. She screamed and scrambled away, heart pounding, only to realize it was Press. He was approaching her slowly, like one might approach a startled deer. “Don’t do that!” she screamed again, not caring who heard.

“Whoa, Alex, I’m sorry…” Press’s apology was genuine. He hadn’t even managed to get out his intended “Boo!” before she freaked out. “Alex, you’re shaking.” He followed her into an empty classroom, watching as she hugged herself tightly, avoiding his gaze. Her behavior spoke volumes. “Who hurt you?”

Alex’s mind was a whirlwind, memories crashing down like a relentless tide. It wasn’t until Press’s words broke through that she managed to tether herself to the present. “What?” she asked, her voice fractured.

Press approached cautiously, stopping when she looked ready to bolt. “Who hurt you? Give me their name, and I swear I’ll make them pay.”

Alex saw the fierce determination in his eyes. She cleared her throat before speaking again. “I already did. Metal stool, below the belt – he won’t be hurting anyone else again.” She could see the anger simmering in Press, barely contained. “It happened in Texas, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Press paced, trying to calm himself. “Okay.” After a moment, he stopped and asked, “Permission to hug you?”

Alex felt tears welling up. When she practically threw herself at Press, she knew she was clinging to him like a lifeline she hadn’t realized she needed.

So much for keeping it to herself, but Press didn’t run for the hills. If anything, it seemed to bring them closer, and to her surprise, Alex didn’t mind that one bit.

----------------------------------------------------------

After school, Alex was brought to the guidance counselor’s office by her Math teacher for a meeting to discuss her progress. Alex repeatedly told them that she didn't need tutoring, but they just pointed at her assignments and insisted. They even threatened to call her mother, Georgia, for a chat about next steps. Alex knew that bringing Georgia into this would lead to a lecture about her school performance and yet another comparison to Ginny. Though she doubted her mom even realized she was doing it, so she begrudgingly agreed to the tutoring. Again, it’s not like she needed it.

Alex plopped herself at a table by the window at Joe's Cafe, waiting for her tutor. She audibly groaned when she saw Hunter walking in. Sure, she knew that Hunter and Press were friends, but since Hunter dated Ginny, she figured Ginny would hear all about this.

"Hey, Alex," Hunter greeted with a friendly smile, setting his bag on the floor and sitting across from her. "I brought some practice pages for you to do so I can get a sense of your starting point, and we can go from there." He placed the papers and a pencil in front of her. "Do you have any questions before we get started?"

"Yeah, can we just pretend we did this whole tutoring thing so we can leave? I don't need tutoring, so you're just wasting your time." Alex’s annoyance was palpable.

Hunter looked at her supportively. "It's okay, Alex. Not everyone gets this, and if you're worried about me telling anyone, I won't."

Seeing the determination in Hunter’s eyes, Alex knew he wasn’t going to back down, so she begrudgingly started working on the sheets while he talked.

Hunter, thinking she was ignoring him and doodling, said, "I give you my word, I won't tell anyone you need tutoring." He added, "Could you at least try to be respectful and not doodle on the papers?"

"I'm not doodling," Alex retorted defensively. "I'm a horrible artist, so I don't doodle. You can ask Press if you don’t believe me. And like I said, I don't need tutoring. It's not that I can't do it; I just don’t care to. If the teacher paid attention, she’d see that I deliberately do just enough to pass. Why put effort into something I don't care about? Before you start lecturing me on respect, that goes both ways. How about you respect me enough to, oh, I don’t know, believe me when I say I don't need this?" She didn’t even look up from the papers as she spoke, and when she finished, she slapped the practice sheets down in front of Hunter— all completed.

Hunter looked shocked, his eyes wide as he saw that every single answer was correct. He flipped through the pages, checking to make sure the answer key wasn’t mixed in. "How...what..." he stammered.

"I told you I didn't need tutoring," Alex said, smugly.

"You sure don't," he laughed. "But I don't get it—why don't you do the work if you can clearly do it? Why aren't you in AP Math, too?"

Alex sighed with an elaborate hand gesture. "Were you not listening? I don't care about Math or any other subject. I do just enough to not get held back and focus on what I like. No point in wasting time on the other stuff.”

Hunter was still processing everything. "You could literally get into any college..."

Alex practically leaped out of her chair to lean over the table and cover his mouth with her hand. "I've heard it all before—no intention of hearing it again. If you promise to hush and never bring it up again, I'll show gradual improvement or whatever. Deal?"

When Hunter nodded, she removed her hand, returned to her seat, and sighed. "So, now what? We can go, right?"

Hunter, needing to collect his tutoring hours, said, "Actually...could we work on something? Anything? Joe needs to sign off that I've been here tutoring, and I’m counting on these hours to..."

Alex held up her hand. "Say no more. Homework it is."

Hunter was surprised she agreed. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Alex shrugged. "You don't annoy me as much as I thought you would, so no biggie."

Hunter looked amused and confused. "Thanks, I guess."

Alex set her homework down. "I don't particularly care for Ginny's friends, and you're part of that group, so I assumed you'd be as nail-on-a-chalkboard-esque as them."

"Press is friends with them, too," Hunter countered.

"His so-called friends called him a psycho sociopath and told me I could do better. You may be friends with them and Press may be friends with you, but those ladies are so not his friends," Alex said without hesitation.

Hunter took that into consideration. "Noted." He then spotted some music notes and lyrics on one of Alex's notebook pages. "You're a songwriter?"

Alex flipped the page and went back to her History assignment. "We're not friends enough to get into that."

Hunter held his hands up in a playful, dramatic 'I surrender' manner. He could definitely see why Press was so into Alex and hoped it’d work out for them.

----------------------------------------------------------

When Alex got home after Hunter’s ‘tutoring session’ ended, she found Press perched on the front steps of her house, waiting. She couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her chest at the sight of him there, almost like he was a guardian waiting to ensure she made it home safe.

“You’re not gonna go all Edward Cullen on me and watch me when I sleep, are you?” she teased, her playful smirk masking the genuine curiosity and slight nervousness beneath.

Press’s face turned stoic, masking any hint of confusion. “I have no idea what you’re referencing.”

Alex squinted at him, trying to discern if he was serious. A flicker of amusement crossed her mind, lightening the lingering weight of her day. She sat down beside him, chuckling. “What’s up?”

“You weren’t at Brodie’s tonight. Everything okay?” He cut straight to the chase, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress.

“I had to do some mandatory tutoring,” Alex explained, rolling her eyes dramatically. “It was easier than dealing with the school calling my mom in.”

Press raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally one of the smartest people I know. You don’t need tutoring.”

“That’s what I tried to tell them,” Alex sighed, leaning back on her arms. She could see the concern in Press’s eyes, and it touched her more than she expected. “I’m fine, Press.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he snapped, then immediately softened, rubbing his brow. Guilt tugged at him—he hadn’t meant to sound harsh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you did, and that’s okay,” Alex took a deep breath, feeling the weight of unspoken truths pressing against her ribcage. “I’m not lying when I say I’m fine.” She saw Press about to counter, so she quickly added, “F is for feeling overwhelmed. I is for I’m not alright. N is for not being able to sleep, E for every night.” Alex couldn’t take credit for that, but when she heard the song ‘Fine by Kyle Hume’ she felt it in her soul.

Alex flashed a wide smile, masking the turmoil inside. “I’m very good at burying things and saying what needs to be said so people don’t freak out around me.”

“You don’t have to wear a mask around me,” Press’s tone softened, a gentleness threading through his words. He wished she’d let him in, just a little bit more.

“It’s not a mask,” Alex countered with a small smile, though her heart ached with the effort of keeping the walls up. “It’s a face.” She wrapped her arms around his and leaned on his shoulder, craving the comfort of his presence. “I’m never going to tell you the full story.”

Press didn’t move, didn’t look at her. He could feel the unspoken pain radiating from Alex, and all he wanted was to ease it. “Okay,” he said simply and sincerely, and that was good enough for Alex.

----------------------------------------------------------

Up in her room, Alex was getting ready for bed when Georgia came in. She was braiding her hair, trying to unwind from a long day – ironically, because in a way she was literally winding her hair.

“Who were you talking to outside?” Georgia asked, her voice curious.

“Matt Press,” Alex answered, deftly finishing the braid. “He’s a friend.”

“A friend who is a boy?” Georgia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

Alex turned to face her mother, meeting her gaze head-on. “Yes, I’m okay. And…he kinda knows what happened. When he snuck up on me, I kinda freaked, and he figured it out.”

Georgia’s legs wobbled, and she had to sit down. The revelation was like a punch to the gut, causing a swirl of emotions—fear, relief, and a deep, aching sadness for her daughter’s pain.

Since Georgia was uncharacteristically silent, Alex continued, feeling a need to fill the heavy silence. “He didn’t react like I thought he would…he was supportive and asked for my permission to give me a hug. After everything, I really didn’t think I could get close to a boy, and I’m not saying that he and I will ever get close physically, I’m just saying…it’s good, Mom. I’m good.” There was a mix of hope and vulnerability in her voice, a quiet plea for understanding.

Georgia swallowed the words she wanted to say because, for the first time in a long time, she saw that Alex genuinely meant she was good. Instead, she put on a warm smile, feeling a surge of maternal pride and love, and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I’m glad. After all, not all men…”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Alex responded instantly, the playful sparkle in her eyes returning. “Of course not. Gomez Addams would never.”

Georgia chuckled, a wave of relief washing over her. “My little Addams fanatic,” she said softly, her voice filled with affection. “Goodnight, Lexi,” she added before leaving the room.

Alex glanced at her new mirror and smiled – for the first time in a long time, it was a genuine one. The reflection staring back at her wasn’t forced or feigned, her smile was real and for the first time in a long time Alex thought she might actually sleep through the night because of it.

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At school the next day, Hunter hurried down the hall, weaving through the crowd until he caught sight of Alex. His heart pounded as he approached her, his steps quickening with urgency. He caught up with her and, panting slightly, blurted out, “Okay, so, I really need you to be cool and please, don’t hate me.”

Alex’s brows knitted in confusion. She couldn’t fathom what Hunter might have done to warrant such a plea. Trying to control the flood of anxious thoughts racing through her mind, she met his gaze and said, “I make no promises. What did you do?”

Hunter stopped abruptly, causing Alex to halt as well. He winced, his face a mask of regret as he confessed, “I may have told your guidance counselor that you’re incredibly smart and should be in AP classes.”

Alex felt her blood start to boil, the heat of anger rising from her chest to her cheeks. “You may have done it, or you did do it?” she demanded, emphasizing the words ‘may’ and ‘did’.

Hunter looked away, guilt etched on his face. “I did,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He could see the fury blazing in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Alex, I just couldn’t let you throw away your chance at college and…” His words trailed off as Alex stormed away, fury in her stride. He raced after her, calling out, “Look, I’m sorry but…”

Alex whirled around, jabbing her finger into his chest as she advanced, forcing him to backpedal until he was pressed against the wall. “No buts. There are no buts in this situation. I trusted you, and you betrayed that trust. You had no right interfering in my life. Do you think I want to be in the same classes as my sister, constantly being compared to her? Now I’ll never hear the end of it from Ginny and my mom! I just wanted to stay under the radar, make my own choices, and you took that away from me!”

Hunter could see that her reaction was about more than just his betrayal. This outburst stemmed from deeper issues, from wounds he hadn’t known existed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, feeling helpless.

“I don’t care,” Alex snapped, removing her finger from his chest and walking away, her anger leaving a tangible trail behind her. This time, Hunter didn’t follow.

Press entered the hall just in time to see Alex walking away from Hunter. Concerned, he approached his friend and asked, “What’s up?”

Hunter sighed heavily, the weight of his mistake pressing down on him. “I was assigned to tutor Alex and found out she’s a lot smarter than she lets on. I told her guidance counselor.”

Press looked at him like he was an idiot all whole doing his best not to get pissed. “Dude, Alex has her reasons.”

“I get that now,” Hunter replied, his remorse deepening. “She told me she only cared about English, but I didn’t realize there was more to it.” Granted, he didn’t know the whole story but with how Alex had spoken about being compared to Ginny, he could imagine.

Press shook his head at his friend. “You really screwed up, man. Good luck fixing it.”

“You’re not going to help me out here?” Hunter asked, hoping for some assistance.

“Nope,” Press said firmly, walking away.

Hunter exhaled deeply and headed to class, his mind racing with ways to make amends. He needed to fix things with Alex—not just because she was practically Press’s girlfriend and Ginny’s sister, but because he genuinely hoped they could become friends. He just hoped he could find a way.

----------------------------------------------------------

When Alex walked out of her guidance counselor’s office clutching her new AP class schedule, she felt a volcanic eruption of frustration bubbling within her. It took every ounce of her self-control not to tear the paper into confetti and scatter it across the hallway. She knew the inevitable confrontation with her mom awaited her—an interrogation about why she hadn’t been in these advanced classes from the start and why she’d coasted at a level far below her true capabilities. There was no escaping it now; Georgia wouldn’t let this slide. After giving Alex so much slack on bigger issues, her mom was sure to unleash her wrath this time.

As Alex stormed down the hall, she passed the lilac-painted wall where Ginny and her friends—Nora and Abby—stood, chatting. She hoped to glide by unnoticed, but Abby shot out her hand, gripping Alex’s wrist with a firm hold.

“Hey, Ginny’s twin, we’re going shopping, and you’re coming,” Abby said with a faux-sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey, the name’s Alex, and no, I’m not,” Alex retorted, yanking her hand free. She added with a sarcastic, high-pitched valley girl tone, “Thanks for the invite, though,” and flicked her hair dramatically before turning to walk away.

“You could have just said no,” Abby called after her, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “No need to be a bitch about it.”

That remark was the final straw. Alex stopped dead in her tracks, fury igniting in her eyes. She spun on her heels and marched back toward Abby, her expression murderous.

Seeing the brewing storm, Ginny quickly intervened, stepping between her sister and Abby. “Don’t ruin my chance at having friends, I beg of you,” she quietly pleaded, pushing Alex away.

“No promises,” Alex muttered, glaring daggers at Abby. She shot her the middle finger before continuing her march down the hall to her locker, where she needed to gather her textbooks for return. She’d be getting new ones the next day.

As Ginny rejoined Nora and Abby, Abby watched Alex’s retreating figure with a newfound respect. “She doesn’t take anyone’s crap. I’m totally in love with her,” she declared with a serious tone, then burst into laughter, with Nora and Ginny joining in soon after.

----------------------------------------------------------

Alex sat at the kitchen counter, her focus intently on the card game she was playing with Austin. The quiet hum of their playful competition was interrupted when Georgia and Ginny burst through the door. Ginny, radiating frustration, stormed straight up the stairs without a word. Georgia, visibly exasperated, entered the kitchen, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don’t know what I’m going to do with your sister,” she muttered, her voice heavy with fatigue.

Deciding to face the inevitable, Alex turned to Austin with a sigh. "We’ll play cards again later. I need to talk to Mom."

Austin, sensing the seriousness of the situation, nodded and began to gather the cards. "Okay," he said simply, before retreating up to his room.

Georgia, still releasing deep, weary sighs, set her water bottle down on the counter with a thud. She looked across at Alex, her expression a mix of concern and exasperation. "Please tell me you don’t have a crisis too. Or if you do, let it be a normal teenage crisis, like a zit that makes you feel like you’ll just die if you have to go to school tomorrow."

Alex couldn’t help but chuckle at the oddly specific example but quickly regained her composure. "With the exception of Art, I’m starting all AP classes tomorrow," she announced, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Georgia blinked, clearly taken aback. She moved around the counter island and perched on the stool beside Alex, her eyes searching her daughter’s face. "You barely get C’s in any class other than English, so please explain how you’re now in AP classes?"

Alex stood up, making her way to the fridge. She grabbed a can of cola and opened it with a crisp snap. "You know I don’t believe in wasting my time," she said, taking a sip. "So I just don’t bother in the classes that I don’t care about." She left out the part about avoiding being in the same classes as Ginny, a detail she wasn’t ready to share.

Georgia slowly rose from her seat, the realization dawning on her. "So this whole time—for years—you’ve been pretending not to be as smart as you are?" She didn’t wait for a response. "Why the hell would you do that, Lexi? And don’t give me that ‘oh, I just don’t care’ crap." She pointed a finger at Alex, her frustration boiling over. "You fooled me good, baby girl, and I don’t appreciate that. Once I figure out how to deal with everything else that’s going on, we will be having more of a conversation about this." With that, Georgia turned and left the kitchen, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

Alex exhaled a long breath, taking another sip of her soda. "Yep, that pretty much went the way I thought it would," she muttered to herself, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on her shoulders.

With the tension between her and her mom still hanging in the air, Alex planned to retreat to her room for some much-needed solitude. That was the plan until a sudden knock at the front door made her spin around on her heels. She opened it to find Hunter standing there, a hesitant smile on his face.

“Ginny’s upstairs, I’ll go get her,” Alex said automatically, ready to dash away.

“Actually, I’m here for you,” Hunter interjected quickly before she could leave.

“Why? You have more decisions to make about my life?” Alex retorted, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her soda. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

“I deserve that,” Hunter admitted, then handed her a paper bag from the Wellsbury bookstore. “This is for you.”

Alex tapped her soda can thoughtfully. “Is this a bribe for my forgiveness?”

“Absolutely,” Hunter replied without missing a beat.

Alex chuckled, handing him her soda can. She took the bag from him and pulled out a compilation book of cartoons of the Addams Family by Charles Addams. Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh my deity of your choosing, this is amazing!” She laughed, flipping through the pages before looking back at Hunter. “How did you know I loved the Addams Family?”

Hunter shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “Your bag is covered with Addams Family-themed patches. I figured this would be a safe bet.” His eyes were hopeful. “Are we good?”

Alex closed the book, placing it back into the paper bag. She took her soda can from him and narrowed her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “You’re lucky I love a good bribe.” She grinned, and he smiled along with her.

“Good, I’m glad. I really want us to be friends,” Hunter said earnestly.

Alex’s immediate response was blunt. “Right – not getting along with your friend’s friend and the girl you like’s sister probably wouldn’t bode well for you.”

“Not just that,” Hunter explained, “I think you’re cool and want to be your friend, just because.”

“A non-ulterior motive friend, eh? I’m good with that.” Alex lifted the bag. “Thank you for this. See you in class.”

Hunter smiled and waved as she went back inside the house. He walked back to his car parked down the street and got in, looking at Press who was sitting in the passenger seat. “You were right, she loved the book.”

“Told you,” Press replied, not looking away from his phone.

“I thought you weren’t going to help me though? Why did you give me the book?” Hunter asked, still puzzled.

“I wasn’t helping you, I was helping her,” Press replied seriously. “She could use you as a friend.”

Hunter could have easily teased Press for being sentimental, but he chose not to. Instead, he simply said, “I owe you one.”

“I aim to collect,” Press responded, his tone leaving no room for doubt. He had given Hunter the book because he wanted Alex to feel better and for her and Hunter to be friends. Press was willing to do anything to make Alex happy and he intended to see it through.

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End Season 1 Episode 2

#Ginny and Georgia Fanfic #My Mother's Daughter #Ginny and Georgia OC #Alexandria Miller #Matt Press #Hunter Chen

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rookamell · 1 year ago

Text

Winter Thorns and Iron Crowns pt. 16

Summary: Stannis and Robert really not doing the Baratheons any favours when it comes to beating the idiot allegations

Pairings: Stannis Baratheon x Reader

Disclaimer: Ok! This is the last part! I’m so sorry if the prose isn’t as good I haven’t read the books in a minute so I might be using a different writing style a little I’m so sorry. Also really sorry if this sucks I haven’t touched this fic in like a year and a half lol. Anyway I hope everyone enjoys. Eat your heart out Bridgerton season 3 This is how you do a friends to lovers confession!

Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon’s Kingsguard, strode through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast and felt trepidation close it’s unrelenting fingers around his heart.

It was raining, drops pattering against the walls, dripping from eaves and lightly spattering onto his armour as he walked.

He clenched his fists at his sides, knowing Robert had sent him on this errand as some sort of test, though whether it was his test, Barristan could not say.

He stopped in front of a set of double doors, polished so that he could see his reflection in them. He took off his white helm and knocked on the door. Once. Sharply.

It was a few moments before a girl answered, pitch black hair and wide, deep blue eyes.

“Yes, m’lord?” She asked him, half hiding behind the door.

“Is lady Stark within?” He asked her kindly.

“Yes, m’lord,” she replied, and dropped into a quick curtsy. “But, begging your pardon m’lord, she said she wanted no visitors today, owing to the rain.”

He suppressed a roll of his eyes.

“Would you be so kind as to inform her that she will have to make an exception for a summons from king Robert?”

The girl’s already wide eyes widened even further, and she nodded, disappearing behind the large door.

A short time later, Y/n Stark came to the door.

She was dressed in black, her golden brown hair braided back from her face almost austerely, drawing attention to the lines around her mouth, the shadowed bruises beneath her eyes, the four thin scars on her cheek which seemed even more stark against her pale skin.

Barristan remembered the first time he had seen her, a shy, unremarkable girl. She had blossomed during her wardship, had become a lovely young woman, quick with a grin or a sly look for him or anyone else.

No trace of that girl could he see in the woman before him now. Now, all he could see was her slumped form in front of the Iron Throne, tears streaking across her cheeks.

Her lip curled as her eyes met his, as they travelled up and down, taking in his white armour and cloak.

Her eyes were dull, no trace of the twinkle that he had become accustomed to.

A great shame, for her beauty had always been in the twinkle of her grey eyes.

She shook her head, sighing through her nose.

“And out of everyone, he sends me you,” she said scornfully.

“Robert always did have the most terrible sense of humour.”

Will I ever be forgiven for living? He thought, knowing full well which one of his brothers she would have preferred to see outside her door.

“Well?” She snapped, before he could say anything, “Are you going to escort me or just stand there like a halfwit?”

He saluted and turned, not knowing how to reply, and began the long, silent walk to Robert’s solar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barristan held the door for lady Stark as she strode into the room. He closed it behind himself and took up a place beside it, opposite ser Meryn Trant.

Deliberately, he did not allow any thought on his new brother to enter his mind or show on his face.

The lady Stark strode into the room, black skirts swirling.

Robert, Maester Pycelle, Jon Arryn and even the king’s eunuch were present. Stannis Baratheon was still on Dragonstone, and would leave within three days, if his letters told true. Which they always did.

She sat down on a chair opposite the king without waiting for his leave, and Barristan felt his jaw tighten in tandem with Robert’s.

She and Robert stared at one another across the table for a long moment before she poured herself a goblet of wine.

“So,” she said finally, “I have been summoned to an audience with the king. I assume there is a reason for it?”

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but it was Jon Arryn who spoke first.

“Marriage.”

The word fell into the silence of the room like an arrow into a shield.

Thunk.

Robert cleared his throat.

“Ahem, yes. I’ve been informed that it is my duty as king to take a wife.”

He flashed her a sheepish smile across the small table, charming in its boyishness.

“A wife from an important family,” Jon continued for him, “With influence, and power. You were raised here, at court, this you know.”

Y/n nodded slowly, her face a blank slate.

“I would have it be Cersei Lannister,” the new Hand continued. “The Lannisters are the richest family in the realm, and we could do worse than having the lord Tywin bound to us.”

He took a deep breath.

“Robert would have it be you.”

Y/n’s shoulders tensed. She sat upright.

“Me?” She asked, her voice small.

“Of course you!” Robert burst out with a laugh. “You are a hero to the smallfolk, a figure from stories already told around hearthfires throughout the realm.”

He smiled at her warmly.

“We would have been kin, you and I.”

Y/n’s jaw tensed.

“I am not Lyanna, Robert.”

“I know that!” The king said, “But she is not here, and so cannot be my queen. If not her, I would have it be you. For the sake of the realm, for the sake of my sanity, for the sake of her memory. For Ned's sake, as well.”

Like as not he thinks the difference between them too small to matter, Barristan could not help but think.

Y/n looked at the table, her lips pursing. For a moment, Barristan saw once more the unsure young girl who had stared wonderingly as he sparred with Arthur Dayne in the courtyard.

“You know better than most what is at stake here, Y/n,” Jon Arryn said.

She looked up once more, and this time her jaw was set, something defiant in those grey eyes of hers.

“I do,” she said quietly, but not softly. “Just as the king knows better than most why I cannot accept his offer.”

There was silence for a moment.

"What?" Robert asked.

"I can't, Robert," she said. "I can't."

The king stared at her, openmouthed.

“Y/n, please,” he said, “Think of the realm, think what Ned would want! Think for a moment- !”

“I have, your grace,” she hesitated. “Robert. Ask me to do anything else for the realm. Ask me to die, if I must. But do not ask me this.”

They stared at one another for a moment, the king becoming angrier with every second that passed.

“And if it turns out he does not love you?” Robert eventually growled at her. “You would have me kiss Tywin Lannister’s feet for a man whose heart turned to stone long ago?”

Lady Stark's jaw clenched, her shoulders tensing, and it was with deliberate slow control that she stood from the chair.

“I daresay you could do worse, your grace, than Tywin Lannister’s feet, or Cersei Lannister’s cunt,” she said coolly. “My answer is no.”

She spun around toward the door.

“I am your king!” Robert shouted at her, standing from his seat to slam his hands on the tabletop.

She flinched at the noise, stopping, but did not turn back toward him.

“Do I have your leave, your grace?” She spat the last words like an insult.

Robert’s face was red, and he looked for a moment as though he would argue further, but then he waved a hand at her back.

“Bah,” he said, sagging into his chair, “Get out of my sight.”

Y/n opened the door and strode out.

“And send someone with wine!” Robert called after her, just before the door slammed shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My lord,” Stannis’ chamberlain called hesitantly from the door to his rooms.

“What?” He asked, not looking up from the harbour catalogue. The man was incompetent at best, but Stannis put up with it, just as he put up with everything in his life.

“Ah, Lady Stark to see you, my lord.”

Stannis’ hand stilled on the page.

He had seen this morning, the preparations starting to be made for the royal wedding as he made his way up from the harbour to the Red Keep. Flowers being brought in, carts stuffed with barrels of wine rolling in from the direction of Dorne. He had paid it no mind, had not been the least bit interested in who Robert had chosen to marry so long as he was somewhat sensible in his choice.

Until the bakery.

He’d never noticed there was a bakery in that particular street before, but as he rode up toward the Red Keep, one woman was shouting at another as they opened for the day.

“I thought it was the Stark girl he’s marrying?”

“Maybe your right, I thought it was a Lannister.”

“No, no, my sister washes linens for the Hand, said she heard him complaining about the king not goin’ along with his choice.”

“Well… there you have it then. Got to admit it won’t change that much for us.”

Stannis hadn’t realised how tightly he was holding the reigns until his horse reared and almost threw him. He wrenched them again, turning the animal to the right course, ignoring the looks of the men riding with him.

She’s no Lyanna, but it’ll do.

He should have known. He should have seen that Robert would not allow him this, would never even think of what such a proposal might mean to Stannis. He should have- he should have-

What? Proposed to her first?

He’d almost laughed aloud, but instead had merely ground his teeth harder.

The thought that she would ever consent to a life shackled to him, the second son, when she could have the Iron Throne was laughable. The thought that she would ever consent to a life shackled to him when she could have Robert was even more so.

He had given his report of Dragonstone to the king’s small council, the king notably absent, endured their gripes about his failure to capture the two Targaryen children, and made his way to his chambers.

His appetite was gone, but already he had work to do as master of ships, and it served well enough as a distraction from the pain in his chest that had not eased since the morning.

Absurdly, he wondered how long it would take Davos to get to the Red Keep from Dragonstone if he would summon him.

He realised his chamberlain was still waiting for his answer, and cursed himself for a fool.

The mere thought of her presence stole his wits from him, made him tense, and breathless.

The last thing in the world he wanted was to see her.

But then he was nodding to the man, and closing the ledger, because he had never been able to deny her a thing.

And then she entered.

Her long hair was swept up in braids, in a style that reminded him of his childhood in Storm’s End. She wore black, and seemed pale, and there were dark bruises beneath her eyes which he knew matched those beneath his own.

His heart clenched in his chest, under no control of his own.

“Lady Stark,” he said in greeting. Too hard, too cold by half but he could not do it any other way.

She frowned, almost bemused, and sank into a quick curtsy.

“Lord Stannis,” her head tilted slightly to the side. “Forgive the intrusion.”

She cast her eyes to the door, where his chamberlain lingered still.

“Leave us,” he snapped. The man obeyed quickly.

Her eyes roamed over his face, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Why did you not come?” She said, after what felt like too long of a silence.

“Robert said your ship landed this morning. I was waiting all day.”

He did not look her in the eyes when he bit out, “I did not wish to interrupt your preparations.”

She frowned again.

“Preparations?”

If he was any other man, if he was Robert, perhaps, or Brandon Stark or Rhaegar Targaryen or some peasant in Fleabottom, perhaps he would have overturned his desk. Perhaps he would have walked to the wall and broke his hand against it.

Instead he looked down at the closed book on his desk.

“I suppose I should congratulate you on the match, or,” he could not resist adding through clenched teeth, bitterness leaking into his voice, “Perhaps it would be better to congratulate him, and give you my condolences.”

The frown remained on her face for a heartbeat, and then understanding dawned in her eyes.

“You…” he startled at the sound of her voice, at the hurt in it.

“You think I agreed to marry him?” She asked, shock in every word.

“I assumed so, yes,” he said stifly, not wishing for her pity.

“Only a fool would turn down the king.”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

“After all this time,” she said, disbelievingly, “You think I would marry him? After everything? Do you truly know me so little?”

He blinked. Once.

“You- ?”

“I turned him down,” she said quietly.

“Of course I did, Stannis.”

He stared at her, clenched fists forgotten, clenched jaw slack for once in his life, disbelief and shock vying for the honor of making his knees weak.

Relief, as well.

The shock on her face morphed into hurt, slowly, and it felt as though someone was sliding a sword into his stomach, like a slow death by starvation all over again.

She schooled her features into indifference, and Stannis thought perhaps that was worse than a year of starvation.

“It did not cross my mind that you would refuse him,” he said, and the words sounded too bland to his own ears, and he wished fervantly for once in his life that he could cease speaking but the words seemed to fall from his mouth without his consent.

“Robert has always gotten everything he wanted- “

“He isn’t you, you halfwit!” She burst out, anger momentarily breaking through the indifference. “And you should know me better by now than to think I want that godsforsaken throne to myself when it has brought me nothing but misery my whole life!”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and her neutrality reasserted itsself. If it did not hurt so much, he would have been impressed by her control.

“I am glad to see you safe, my lord,” she said blandly.

“It seems I’ve been a bigger fool than I realised. You must excuse me, I have much to do. There is to be a wedding in a few days.”

“Y/n- “ he tried, pathetically.

“Good day, lord Stannis.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fortnight later, Stannis found Y/n sitting on a small pier beneath the cliffs of the Keep, waves hitting the wood as though they had better things to do, watching the sunrise.

He stood for a while at the end of the pier, grinding his teeth. The paper he held in his hands seemed frail, stupid even, when he was confronted with her. The rays from the rising sun made her braid shine golden, and though she wore only breeches and a shirt, she seemed a vision, or some such nonsense the bards always spewed at the sight of her.

All Stannis knew was that his stomach was twisted in knots, and though he had dressed in a fine doublet he still felt exposed, and she had not spoken to her since Robert's wedding.

Before he could lose his nerve, he cleared his throat.

She started, jumping to her feet and turning toward him as though she was ready for a fight. He was somewhat gratified to see the tension leave her when their eyes met, though not entirely.

“Stannis?” She asked, and he was ashamed to hear suspicion in her voice as she did. She raised her chin in that way of hers, standing in such a way he knew made her seem taller. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, however, that he was aware matched his own, and she was still too thin.

As he was. He was aware he looked emaciated, but if he did not do this, he thought he would die from... from whatever this was that had been aching in his chest since she had left his rooms.

"Y/n."

It was out of his mouth before he could decide otherwise. At her raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat once more.

"Lady Stark," he said instead, the paper in his hand felt more flimsy than ever, and he felt his treacherous fingers tremble slightly as he read what he had prepared to say over the past week.

“I’ve spoken to the king, to your lord brother, as well as to Maester Cressen at Dragonstone, asking for advice. I know that I cannot offer you Storm’s End as is my right by birth,” he saw her open her mouth but carried on, heedless, knowing that if he stopped now, he would never start again, “But all of them seem to agree that the match would be favourable for both parties as well as our households. So, Lady Stark, would you...” he took a deep breath, bracing for the worst, “Will you be my wife?”

She looked at him. There were a few moments of tense silence.

“You spoke to Ned and Robert?” She asked softly. He nodded.

“And they both agree the match would be favourable?”

Again, he nodded. His heart was beating somewhere in the region of his neck. It had been the only way he could think of to convince her. If he had to go longer pretending to feel only friendship, his nerves would fray to their ends, but he would be an idiot to think she felt anything of the sort for him.

So, he had written to Ned, and spoken with Robert, and even asked Maester Cressen, who had always counselled him well. It had almost come to blows between him and Robert, the king unwilling to forsake his fabricated claim on the Starks, but Stannis had won out eventually, after three of the kingsguard had come to stand between them.

“There is no...” she was frowning, searching his face for something, “Other reason?”

“No,” he said simply. None that matter.

She frowned, her grey eyes turning dark.

“Then no.”

His breath left him.

“What?” He asked.

“No. Not like this,” she said, and he was shocked to hear her voice shake, not from laughter but from anger.

She turned away from him, toward the sea, and seemed to take a deep breath. When she turned around again her fists were clenched and her jaw was set.

“I waited for you!” She all but hissed at him. “I gave up Winterfell, my home, my brothers! Do you know how the ships in the harbour call to me? But I didn’t board one, because I couldn’t leave you! Do you have any idea how many offers of marriage I’ve had in the past week alone! But I turned them all down, even Robert, even the godsforsaken Iron Throne, because I thought you saw more in me than just a trophy! Because I thought you...” suddenly it was as if a fire had been extinguished. Her shoulders slumped and she seemed so tired.

“My answer is no,” she said icily, and turned from him.

He caught her hand before she could.

“Because you thought I what?” He asked. He had to know, because hope had just started sprouting in his chest, like a flickering candle flame, and he had to extinguish it before it consumed him.

She frowned, and didn’t look him in the eyes.

“Because I thought you loved me,” she said quietly.

She looked up into his eyes, and he could hardly breathe. They shone in the early dawn light.

She was looking at him with something like defiance, as if she was daring him to say something.

He stared at her.

Because I thought you loved me.

He kept staring at her.

She... thought I...

He opened his mouth, then closed it. His thoughts seemed to be moving too slowly.

Finally, she seemed to lose patience with him.

“Never mind,” she said, starting to walk back toward the Keep.

“Wait. No,” he tried to stop her. “I wasn’t- I never meant- “

“Let me go, Stannis.”

“I did not think you could love me,” he blurted. “I did not dare hope you could love me.”

She stopped struggling and finally turned around. To his horror, she looked amused.

He clenched his teeth and let go of her arm.

“Once, when you were visiting Storm’s End when I was seventeen, there was a storm, and Shipbreaker Bay was as wild as I’d ever seen it. You held on to my arm as we watched it through the window,” he said quickly. “I’ve been in love with you since that day, perhaps before, even. But you- “, he stopped, not knowing how to make sense of the feelings swimming around in his head, in his chest. He hated that she did that to him.

You are too beautiful to trifle with me, and too kind and too strong and I never thought you could love me. I thought if we married, I might convince myself eventually, but to presume...

She tilted her head to the side as she regarded him for a long while, frowning. His heart had decided to make a home somewhere in his stomach.

“You’re a simpleton,” she said eventually. Still frowning.

“What?” He asked, perplexed.

“I said,” she walked forward and took his hand, entwining their fingers, “You’re a simpleton, Stannis Baratheon. A fool. An idiot. A...” she looked to the side, thinking. “A halfwit.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my lady,” he said coolly. Now she was insulting him? On top of refusing him?

She shook her head, smiling slightly, and he was about to snap back at her for being an idiot, but she spoke over him.

“Stannis,” she said softly, looking up at him, “I’ve loved you since we were children. Since the first day you showed me Proudwing, do you remember? The sun hadn’t even come up properly yet.”

He did remember, he’d thought she was strange, with her twinkling grey eyes and bare feet, running around Storm’s End on her own. Perhaps he had loved her since that day as well.

“But I was too young to know it was love,” she said softly, “Too young to see the truth.”

“I thought you were strange,” he said, then wanted to kick himself. But instead of being angry, she laughed, and her hand found his arm. A warmth spread through him, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. That was what she was, sunlight after rain.

“I thought you were strange too,” she said softly. “A strange, lanky little boy who frowned too much and had dark blue eyes just like the ocean. I wanted to try and make you laugh.”

He smiled despite himself, despite the emotions roiling his stomach around, despite the thoughts he could not seem to get in order. Despite everything. Such an immense feeling of love welled up in him that he felt he would die from it.

She smiled too, and her eyes twinkled in that familiar way. Starlight and sunlight and flickering firelight all came together in those grey eyes when she laughed.

Then she stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his, barely more than a touch, barely a second, but fire raced through him. Fire and lightning and ice and everything at once.

“Ask me again,” she said, still standing close to him, hand in hand, her breath tickling his lips. “Correctly.”

“Be my wife,” he said, almost in a trance, “Be mine, please.”

She kissed him again, and again it was like a storm in his chest.

“Alright. For you.”

#honestly i cant tell if this is bad or not lolllll #its been like eight years since i started writing this haha and now its done #sorrows sorrows prayers #stannis baratheon #stannis baratheon fic #stannis baratheon x reader #game of thrones x reader #asoiaf fic #game of thrones fic #my writing

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