#2021 anticipated books

[sweetbans29]

Support - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You are an advocate for Caitlin's W transition (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 5.1k

Sweetban Masterlist

AN: The request was very specific and I am going to be honest, I did not follow it to a T but I hope you enjoy!

"Hey CC, you better hurry up the game is starting," Jada yells from the couch. Caitlin taps the microwave in hopes that will speed up the popcorn. It doesn't.

Cait hurridly puts the chocolate chip cookies on a plate, cursing as she keeps burning her hand on the cookie sheet that she just pulled from the oven. She places the last cookie on the plate, grabs the popcorn bag, and scurries to the living room with the other girls.

The team had just finished a summer training session and booked it back to Caitlin's place to watch the game. It was one they all had been talking about for weeks.

"You know one of you could have helped me," Caitlin says passing the popcorn to Jada and placing the plate of cookies on the table. A swarm of hands comes to grab them, leaving 2 on the plate.

"You didn't ask," Jada says like it was a fact, and Caitlin rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, we'll help next time," Kate says as she finishes her cookie.

"Yeah, whatever," Caitlin says as the game tips off.

"CC, my popcorn is burnt," Jada whines as she tries to pick through the burnt pieces.

Caitlin doesn't respond, her eyes glued to the screen as you make your first appearance in 11 months.

You were the first pick in the 2021 draft, there was no question about it. You had led your team to two championships, back to back. There wasn't much left you felt you needed to do at a college level and declared for the draft. The NY Liberty getting first overall pick made the decision a no-brainer.

When you were drafted, you were in the best physical shape of your life. Tired, yes, but more ready than you have ever been for the jump to the W. Getting to NY and starting in training camp confirmed even more that this was the right decision for you. When games started, you realized that the transition was way more than you had expected. The physicality yes, but the mental transition was even harder. You went from a near-perfect season your senior year to losing what felt like every other game.

You were only 7 games into the season when the worst happened. It was during an away game in Minnesota when you went down and you went down hard. The pop in your left knee was something you were trying hard to ignore but the scream you let out was anything but ignorable. When it happened the whole arena went silent as you made your way off the court - only accepting help when you got to the tunnel. After a few scans, you learned you had torn your ACL, officially taking you out of your rookie season.

Caitlin remembers watching the game when it happened. If Cait were honest, she had been watching your game since you entered college. She watched your freshman year as your game immediately translated into a college setting. She watched as they built a team around you your sophomore year, already anticipating playing you when she becomes a Hawkeye. Then your senior year, her freshman year, when your team knocked out hers in the Sweet Sixteen.

It was in Caitlin's freshman year when you had been posted up against her - playing elite defense and causing Cait to have the single worst game in her college career thus far. She went back and reviewed the tape multiple times to see what had caused her to become so shaken. As she watches it, she realizes several things.

First off, you put your head down and do the work. She rarely sees you arguing with the refs when a call doesn't go your way. She actually finds it comical how your teammates go up questioning the ref or trying to explain how what her team did was a foul and you just jogged to the other end of the court.

Second, she noticed how calm you were while playing. You handled the ball like you were playing a pick-up game with some friends. It was mesmerizing to Caitlin. So often she felt like she played all over the place, and if she were to watch herself it was obvious, but when she watched you - you never once seemed jarred.

Third, your vision is similar to hers. She can only assume you see what she sees. Your vision on the court and IQ for the game is one that she hopes to continue working at. As Cait watches you scout out the floor, you don't always go with what she would expect or do herself. It was almost like a game of chess to you. If you saw the defense react a certain way, you would adjust and get them thinking you were going one way when really you would get everyone to shift, waiting until the last second to show your hand. That is what got under Caitlin's skin during the game. It was almost as if you were baiting her and were playing a head game with her. It was most obvious when you were on defense and were able to pick apart her offensive strategy. It was almost like you knew what Caitlin was going to do before she knew it.

The last thing she noticed had nothing to do with the game, and she almost missed it the first four times she watched the tape, but it was the way she caught herself looking at you. Caitlin throughout the whole game was stealing glances of you. She thinks back to the game and feels herself start to blush. She remembers how your cheeks would tint red and how you stood there with your hands on your hips when something was taking too long. She remembers how your team would gravitate to you because she also wanted to. She remembers how after playing a whole game, when you were giving high-fives, you looked over and smiled at her - your eyes looking directly into hers until she finally broke the contact. She realized that not only was she swayed by your game but she took a particularly deep liking to you.

As Caitlin sits with her team watching your first game back, yes she is watching you because it is your comeback game but also because since she has realized she has taken a particular liking to you, she wants to watch you nonstop.

You take the court and isn't the game you want as your first one back but you are back. You are still figuring out how to move on the court with the adjustment of a weaker knee but know that will come with time. To anyone watching, you looking good as new but you know your game is different - so does Caitlin.

You end the game going 12/4/8 with 2 steals and a block. You aren't super happy but you know you are your biggest critic. You also have to remember this is the first game of the season. After the game, you check your phone to see messages from a handful of people congratulating you, responding to them all with some sort of reaction you open Instagram and scroll. Any time you see anything about you, you scroll right past it.

You stop on a post about the winner of the Dawn Staley Award winner. You see it went, for the second time, to Caitlin Clark - a guard out of Iowa. You wrack your brain and remember playing her in college, she is a solid player. It is tough that she has won the award back to back her freshman and sophomore years. You post the achievement to your story with the caption '1-of-1'. You then click on her profile and give her a follow before locking your phone and heading to the post-presser.

Caitlin gets a notification and immediately stands up. When the game ended, the girls didn't move and kept snacking on whatever was in front of them. Cait is the first one to move.

"Woah, are you okay there?" Kate asks grabbing Caitlin's calf. Kate's sitting right next to Caitlin and lost balance when the girl decided to stand up without any sort of notice.

Caitlin didn't know what to say as she just stared at the notification of you following her. She shows Kate.

"Holy shit, there is no way," Kate says looking at her phone. "That is sick."

The other girls are asking what happened and Kate tells them that you followed Caitlin. Cait sits back down and taps on your story only to see a photo of her. She sits there with a stupid smile on her face. You know who she is. You know who Caitlin is. You posted about her winning an award right after you just took the first dub of the season.

Caitlin tries not to let it get to get head considering you are a pro and she still had two (possibly three) more years in college but that is hard to do when the player she is crushing on now knows who she is.

Time flies when you are having fun. At least that is what Caitlin tells herself as she has just played in her last college game. What a time it has been for her. She brought her team to the championship game twice but fell short both times, never being named with a title. She is now headed to the WNBA draft and will likely go first, making her way to Indiana.

The transition is fast and before she knows it, she is moving in to an apartment in Indianapolis and preparing for training camp. When games begin, she feels like she hasn't received a break in what feels like a year. In reality, it has only been six months but the amount of play she has had both in her senior year and entering the W is overwhelming.

The thing is - Caitlin would never outright say she is overwhelmed, rather just swallow it and keep going. She may not say anything but her body language and eyes tell the story.

You on the other hand have started the season out on fire. Your mindset for this year was redemption. Over the last two years, your game wasn't where you had wanted it to be coming out of college and coming back from a major injury but where you are now is a much better place than you were before. The year you came back from injury, your game was anything but great. You had the worst season you had ever had playing, including the very first year you started with the sport. It was downright embarrassing but that is what drove you to be where you are now. It may have taken longer than anyone had expected but you have arrived.

It is a few games in when you are asked about the rookie guard.

"What are your thoughts on Caitlin Clark? She has been struggling in her transition and many people have been comparing it to your start in the W," one reporter asks. You smile and let out a little chuckle.

"You all love to pick apart a player when they're down, don't you," you begin and your media manager is in the back corner giving you a death stare. When it comes to the media, you have never had a problem calling them out. Unlike you on the court where you just put your head down and play, when it comes to how the media depicts players - well that is something you don't stand for.

"You need to give the girl some space to breathe. I feel like every time I open Twitter it is a huge rookie feast and it's not cool. It is like the world has forgotten they just got done playing their asses off in March and now you expect them to come into a league, freshly adapted to a different game," you say and continue before anyone can cut you off. "It was just a few days ago when I saw something circulating about how these rookies are facing a rude awakening and I laughed. I laugh because people are not looking at the whole picture. Looking at her box score is not a fair assessment of her game. I've been able to catch a few of the Fever games and yes, they have room to grow but all of our teams do. Do you all see the way she is running the floor? Have you looked into how many times she touches the ball? Like, come on, her vision of the game is the same as it was in college - she is now, alongside a team, are both learning how to adapt to play with her. You all may not say she is coming in and dominating but just watch - she will have you all stunned by the Olympic break - use that a headline."

You glance back at your media manager and they have they are rubbing their eyes as their head shakes back and forth. You personally don't think you have said anything out of line but you know you'll get an earful for something. And you do but not as badly as you thought you would.

On the other side of things, Caitlin gets out of a game where she went 8/5/9. She got in her head and stayed there. She gets out of her own post-presser to see a link from Jada.

When Caitlin opens it, she sees you with the headline '[Clark] will have everyone stunned by Olympic break'. Caitlin quickly opens the link and watches you talk. A smile can't help but make its way to her face as you call the media out and speak praises about her.

'Just wait until you see this game, if you see this game', Caitlin thinks as she flinches again at the thought of her efficiency this last game. The link is followed by Jada being Jada.

[Jadaaa: Your girl's got your back, think you can work up the nerve to talk to her when you face off in a few weeks?]

Caitlin knows the younger girl is joking but the feeling that swells in the pit of her stomach thinking about talking to you has her feeling sick.

As much as Caitlin doesn't want to think about you, she does. She can't help it. The last time she faced up against you, you handed her the single worst game she has ever played and in her mind, she wants to show you what she's got.

Little to her knowledge, you were also looking forward to your match-up against the rookie. It has been years since you played against her and look forward to seeing how she has grown. Also, to see how you two match up in the W.

The game finally comes, too slowly in Caitlin's eyes but finally here.

You are the first one on the court. It's not unusual for anyone who knows you but when Caitlin walks out, she stops dead in her tracks. She should have known you would be on the court already but she was so used to being the first one out that it never occurred to her that there would be someone else out there with her.

Caitlin makes her way out and begins to warm up herself. She wants to go over and talk to you but chooses to keep stealing glances. Soon enough, the whole team is out doing a shoot around and the opportunity has passed.

The game is about to begin as the teams take the floor. You go over and hug one of Cait's teammates and high-five the others. When you make your way to Caitlin, everything moves in slow motion for the younger girl.

You come up to her, wrapping one of your arms around her waist. You lean in and whisper something only she can hear.

"Have fun today, it's just you and me on the court - forget about everyone else, and let's have some fun." You tell her.

Caitlin smiles and nods as her cheeks heat up from your closeness. You pat her lower back and get positioned.

The game is a battle.

You play like you have been since the beginning of the season. You hit your double-double in the third quarter and are working towards a triple-double, which would be the second one of the season if you get there.

Cait is also playing better than she has yet and you can even see a little smile come out every now and again.

It is in the fourth when the two of you are standing next to each other during one of your team's free throws.

"Having fun?" You ask.

"Actually, I am," she says, surprising herself with her answer.

"It will get more fun, just wait and see. You're getting there C," you say and she smiles.

"I actually want to tha-" Caitlin begins but is cut short when your teammate knocks down both free throws and the ball is back in the Fever's possession.

The fourth quarter finishes and your team had come out on top by just 2 points. The closest game of the season thus far. It was probably the most fun you had in a game since you got to the W.

In the post-presser, you are asked about the rookie guard again.

"Now that you have faced Caitlin firsthand, what are some challenges you see in her game?" a male reporter asks.

You flat-out laugh at the question.

"You're kidding me, right?" You say and you already see your media manager waving her hands in the air to stop whatever it is you are about to say.

"I am tired of you guys hounding her into the ground. She played a tremendous game today - what was it, another double-double for the rookie? What more does she have to do to show you all she is already dominating in the W? This is midway through her first season playing the sport professionally. She is already doing the damn thing. What you all should be asking is how much more capable is she? If she is doing this in her first year, what will she be doing next year? In 2 years? 5? Like come on, she is already playing better than any of you could so I don't know why we are still talking about what she can't do," you say and stand, tired of their stupid questions.

You are on your way out when you add one last thing.

"Caitlin Clark is a force of nature. She is one of one, I said it about her in college and I will say it again with her in the W. She is unlike anyone we have seen before and you should all be more concerned with how high her ceiling is versus how low to the ground she stands."

You walk out and wait for your media manager to rip you another new one. You don't care and just take it.

When you get back to your hotel, you ignore all the things you are tagged in and open Caitlin's profile.

[You: Hey, this may seem out of the blue but I wanted to let you know I am on team Caitlin. You know the media spins things but keep your head down and play your game and they will see. I've been where you are, I know the media is a circus. Feel free to call or text if you need anything]

You follow your first message with a second that contains your number. It was a little bold and your motives are pure, mostly.

No one asked but if they did, you would tell them that you remember playing Caitlin in college. You remember how your one and only match-up was one of the toughest of your college career. You would speak to how you have followed her ever since, catching every game you could when she played. You were just as mesmerized as she was and neither of you had a clue.

Cait gets back to her apartment and falls on her bed. She unlocks her phone for the first time since the game, a rare occasion but she doesn't want anything to do with what the media was saying about her after that game.

Similarly to when you first followed her, she shoots up to a sitting position on her bed. She scans the message a thousand times.

Caitlin, who was just tired is now wide awake and smiling. She cannot believe her favorite player (and crush) has just given her phone number.

Her phone begins to go crazy in an old team group chat.

[Jadaaa: CAITLIN FREAKIN CLARK]

Jada then sends a link to another post-game presser.

[KMoney: Bro, it is your game to lose now. She's pro-Clark]

[Stulke: I'll start planning the wedding!]

[Caitlin: I bet you can't guess who just got her number 🫣]

[Jadaaa: SHUT UP]

[Stulke: Yep, wedding planning in progress]

[KMoney: I call dibs on making a speech]

[Jadaaa: Get in line Kate, I am getting first speech]

[Caitlin: Shut up]

Caitlin debated sending you a message but decided to wait until the morning. When Caitlin wakes up, she shoots you a text.

[C: Hi...I want to say thank you for always defending me. You really don't have to but I appreciate it]

[C: It's Caitlin btw]

[C: Caitlin Clark if that wasn't clear]

Caitlin feels like an idiot after she texts three times in a row. She locks her phone and throws her head into her pillow with a groan when she hears a 'ding'. She pulls her phone up to her face.

[You: I thought you weren't going to message]

[You: It's cute that you felt the need to put your first and last name]

[C: Didn't want to get mixed up with someone else]

[C: I don't know how often you hand out your number]

[You: Not often]

[You: So...who is Caitlin Clark?]

The two of you messaged pretty consistently. Messages turned to phone calls, phone calls turned to Facetimes then before you knew it you both were talking about anything and everything.

Caitlin's season has gotten better as the Fever as a team has grown, winning more games in a stretch than losing.

It is a few games later after a win that Caitlin is sitting in a post-presser with Aliyah. An interviewer asks if Caitlin has seen the clips of you talking about her in her post-pressers.

Caitlin blushes and looks down, trying to hide her rosy cheeks. Aliyah chuckles and nudges the girl who is now covering her uncontrolled smile with a towel.

"Ya...I've seen them," she says as she removes the towel to show her smile. "I think it is pretty cool how she stands up for me. I have been watching her for years now and love her game so it means a lot when she speaks of me with such grace."

"Ya, I've caught CC watching that presser probably five times now," Aliyah says throwing Caitlin to the wolves. Someone's got to do it right?

Caitlin playfully pushes Aliyah.

"Way to out me," Caitlin says and hides her face again.

There aren't many more questions asked and Caitlin feels like she is in the clear. That is until she gets a call from you.

"Hi," she says with a smile. She doesn't know it but you can tell by her tone when she is smiling.

"Five times, five times is a lot C," you tease her.

She is glad you aren't standing in front of her because the blush that had subsided from the presser is fully back. The truth is that she watched it 15+ times now.

"What can I say? I like watching people praise me," she says trying to speak with confidence.

"Isn't that cute," you say.

"And you are the one who is calling me right after I get out of a presser and you are calling me obsessed?" Caitlin asks.

"That's fair, I won't call next time," you say and Caitlin immediately says 'no'. You laugh and she is thankful you can't see how fast her face turned red.

The conversation is light and flirty before she has to go.

"I'll see you at All-Star weekend," you say, and are looking forward to seeing the rookie. It would be another fun match-up with you being on the Olympic team and her being an All-Star.

"I look forward to kicking your ass," she says, the confidence in her voice dominating over the phone.

You laugh and give her some nonsense response. You've learned she wouldn't talk a big game to the public but when it was just the two of you, that's a completely different story. To you, she talks a big game and you let her. You know she has the game to back it up but you also know you have the ability to slow her down and that is exactly what the plan is for your next meeting.

The weekend arrives and the fun begins. You are included in the starting lineup for the Olympic team while Caitlin is in the starting lineup for the All-Stars.

Your eyes meet hers and you smile. She returns it as you walk up to her. You greet her.

"You ready?" You ask as you pinch at her hip. She swats your hand and shakes her head but your hands are persistent.

"Oh I am more than ready," she says trying to hide her smile.

"Why don't we put a little skin in the game," you say as you lean into her.

"I win, I get to take you out," you say and Caitlin feels a heat rise in her.

"And what do I get if I win?" She chokes out.

"Whatever. You. Want," you say. Caitlin smirks.

"You're on," she says as the two of you shake on it.

The two of you go head-to-head in the game. Caitlin plays one of the best games she has in the W so far. You take note of how hard the girl is working but you also put in the work, having quite the game yourself.

In the final minutes, the score is tied. Your teams switch off points as the seconds wind down.

You have control of the ball, trying to set up the play. Caitlin is guarding you - poking her hand in to try to get the ball away from your hands. You turn and use the screen that Stewie sets up for you, stepping back you put up the three. As you come down, Cait gives you a little push causing you to fall to the ground but you just catch sight of the ball bouncing on and then out of the rim.

Caitlin then proceeds to stand over you, in the heat of the moment, showing you and the crowd that she is tough.

You get to your feet and bump her chest - exchanging a few words.

Someone comes and pushes you back from Cait while they grab Caitlin's arm but you don't back down, bumping Caitlin again.

By now both of your teams have gotten involved and the refs are trying to separate the two of you. As you feel yourself being pulled back you blow Caitlin a kiss.

You both receive techs.

In the final few seconds, all you have to do is not foul and play solid defense which you do, making Caitlin pass it for the final shot that doesn't fall. Team USA taking the victory.

As you celebrate with the team on the court, you also go and hug your opponents from the night making a conscious decision to end with Cait.

When you go in to hug her, you can tell she is moody.

"I'm picking you up at 10 tonight, be ready," you say and wink at her.

As much as Caitlin wanted to win, she couldn't help but be excited.

Once everyone clears out and makes their way back to the hotel, you quickly shower and head to pick Cait up.

When you get to her door and knock, she answers within seconds.

"Someone is a little eager," you joke and she blushes.

"Well it's 10:20 so technically you're late," she says.

You laugh.

"Okay C, come on," you say and lead her on a walk. The two of you talk and she opens up about her experience so far, asking you questions left and right. You answer every single one of them.

"Where are you taking me?" She asks, half expecting the two of you to just stay in her room.

"Patience, we are almost there," you say as you make a turn and Caitlin sees it.

You have brought her to an outdoor court. It is dimly lit and there is a single basketball laying on one side.

You jog to pick up the ball and she walks over to you.

"I just had the best game of my career so far and you want me to play more?" She asks trying to sound annoyed but she isn't annoyed at all.

"Thought we could play a little one-on-one," you say bouncing the ball between your legs before passing it to her. You can tell she is a little skeptical but goes along with it. She begins to bounce the ball and your hand immediately finds her hip, giving it a squeeze like you did before the last game. The same blush as before rose in her cheeks. She works her way around you but your arms wrap around her waist not letting her go anywhere.

"Foul," she yells as you pick her up with her still holding the ball.

"This isn't a normal game babe," you say and she gets the hint. You put her down, still standing right behind her with your hands on her hips. "Take a shot," you whisper in her ear as your lips graze her neck.

Caitlin swallows and puts up the shot missing it.

"That's not fair," she says turning around.

"Better luck next time," you say bringing your hand to graze her cheek. Your eyes go from her eyes down to her lips as you lean in painfully slow.

Caitlin grabs your shirt and anticipates your lips on hers. When they never come, she pouts.

You run to grab the ball and pass it to her again.

"No bucket, no kiss," you say and you can see her demeanor change.

Caitlin locks in.

"Oh it's on," she says as she is ready for the one-on-one action.

AN: Here you go! Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[dalishious]

A BioWare Guide on How to Murder a Fanbase

I have been a Dragon Age super-fan for almost fourteen years, now. I have played every game, with every DLC. I have read every novel, lore book, and every comic — yes, even the terrible ones that are better off forgotten. I have seen the anime film, the animated series, and the web mini-series. I have enjoyed all of these pieces of the franchise over and over, more times than I can count. So, make no mistake: the negativity you’re about to hear comes from a place of love for this fantasy world, developed by many creative people over the years. I would love nothing more than to see the resurrection of passion in the Dragon Age fandom again. But the unfortunate truth is, that resurrection is only needed because BioWare took the fandom out back and shot it in the first place.

In December 2018, three years after the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser epilogue DLC, BioWare first announced the then-untitled next Dragon Age game with a teaser trailer. At this point, most fans were anticipating this would mean within the next couple years, we would see the game. This assumption was based on the fact that Dragon Age: Inquisition was first announced in 2012, and released in 2014, with an extra year of development added last minute.

There have been dribbles of extra content since then, adding to the franchise. This was enough to keep some fans still breathing and interested. 2020’s Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights was a lovely anthology. 2020’s Dragon Age: Blue Wraith and 2021’s Dark Fortress were wonderful comics tying up the story started in Knight Errant. And 2022’s Dragon Age: Absolution was a well-animated series with an interesting cast of characters and story. But all these still left the fandom with a major question: What was going on with the next game? It was untypical of BioWare to be so secretive, in comparison to how they handled sharing information of the past games in the franchise. The only form of updates fans still have to go on is mostly just concept art and short stories, hinting that something must be in production. But why was the wait so long?

In 2015, the first version of the next Dragon Age began with a clear vision, clear scope of practice, and a reportedly happy developer team. Most gloriously in my book, there was no multi-player… but this did not align with the Electronic Arts typical money-mad schemes. EA’s push for “games as a service” meant they wanted to monetize all their games as much as possible, and therefore, they wanted them to be a live service — as Anthem demonstrated, that meant sacrificing things that are staples of good RPGs, like narrative and character choice. So in 2017, version one of the next Dragon Age was scrapped and replaced. This new version would have, in total or to at least some degree, an online portion of play.

There is one part of Schreier’s article, “The Past and Present of Dragon Age 4,” that really sticks out to me, regarding this:

“One person close to the game told me this week that Morrison’s critical path, or main story, would be designed for single-player and that goal of the multiplayer elements would be to keep people engaged so that they would actually stick with post-launch content.”

The idea of splitting up components of a game into single-player and multi-player is a terrible idea, because it means that there would be a large bulk of content only accessible through online gaming; something many fans, like myself, are repulsed by. Even if I did enjoy it, I spent most of my life growing up with either no internet or shoddy internet incapable of playing online games. I know many rural people who are still in that position, losing more and more of their favourite gaming pastimes because they are locked out of the ability to play them. It is a disservice to hide content behind a wall like this, especially in a world that is so lore-heavy like Dragon Age. The news of multi-player in Dragon Age understandably upset many, and this is when I first noticed a large drop off in excitement over the next game.

However, in 2021, the failure of Anthem (multi-player) and success of Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (single-player) led the executives at EA to bend to the wishes of BioWare leadership and allow them to go back to the drawing board yet again on the next Dragon Age. This meant removing all multi-player content!

While I am very happy that there will reportedly be no multi-player in Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, I can’t help but feel bitter and a little disgusted over the ridiculous development time spent on something no one but EA wanted in the first place. If it weren’t for this foolishness, Dragon Age: Dreadwolf would be in our hands right now. Instead, it’s been in development hell for nearly nine years and counting. Nine years is a long time to expect fans to carry a torch for you through radio silence, but it’s no wonder BioWare has shared barely anything about the next game; it’s been in flux for so long, they likely haven’t had anything concrete to show.

BioWare hurt its reputation even more when the news broke that the studio very suddenly laid off 50 people who were working on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. This is pretty damning on its own, but BioWare took it a step further. Former developer Jon Renish shared a statement revealing that the studio was only willing to offer laid-off employees two weeks of severance per year of service, and denied health benefits. The denial of health benefits in particular is a pretty wild move for a studio with a reputation for “stress casualties”. The latest news on this is that BioWare has still so far refused to negotiate better severance packages, leading to a lawsuit. The lawsuit originally had 15 former employees, but this dropped due to the fear of not being able to afford to pay their bills. So now, while EA sits on $400 million net income, the laid-off employees are struggling to buy holiday presents for their children. These horrid business practices are not to be ignored when accounting for a lack of faith in a studio. What kind of monsters reward workers who make your games special with vaguely reasoned lay-offs?

The latest news on the Dragon Age: Dreadwolf front from BioWare came early this month, December 2023, with a trailer… announcing a trailer that will come next summer… that will announce the release of the game. Supposedly. Maybe. We’ll see. But by this time, BioWare is something of a laughing stock of their own fandom. Reactions to the video released with a pretty map graphic and a few rendered locations were, from what I personally observed, mostly sardonic in nature. People have commented on the vapourware nature of the game, and like all vapourware, that leads to disintegrating trust.

Despite all this, people like Mary Kirby, (one of the veteran Dragon Age writers who was a victim of the layoffs,) said, “it’s bittersweet that Dreadwolf is my last DA game, but I still hope you all love it as much as I do,” encouraging fans to still support the game when it eventually is released. But after every misstep BioWare has taken, that’s a tough sell now. Fans are finicky, RPG fans more so than others, one could argue. We have our favourites, and many of us stick to those favourites for life over our appreciation for the artistry — but that relationship between studio and fan should go both ways. EA and BioWare has betrayed that relationship, and it will take a hell of a lot to build it back up again, now.

[This piece is also available on Medium!]

[cloudzoro]

Four leaf clover | Daichi x Reader x Bokuto x Kuroo ♡

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pairings: bokurodai x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 6.4k words

cw: group sex, light bondage, a knife but no actual knife play, toys, rough sex, overstimulation, safeword usage, cum play, daddy is used once, squirting, spitting, facefucking, just really nasty porn <3

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this an edited reupload of a fic I wrote a few years ago, I have reuploaded it before but my old account got suspended (for unknown reasons) and I didn't want it to be lost to time. so I'm reuploading it one last time. i hope you enjoy! (originally posted in march 2021)

You ask your boyfriend Daichi if you can spice up your sex life by introducing two people you consider close friends to the bedroom but doing so accidentally spices up other aspects of your life too.

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"Daichi?" you say, getting his attention. He looks up from his book with a raised eyebrow, and you suddenly get 10x more nervous. "Can we talk....about our sex life?" He’s intrigued, but there is a flash of worry across his expression.

"Is something wrong, Baby?"

"Nothing is wrong, trust me. Our sex is incredible. I just wanted to know if we can try something new."

"tell me what you're thinking."

Daichi is always willing to try new things with you. The first time you two had sex, he was gentle, but eventually, when he got more comfortable with you, you learned his mean demeanour was a facade. This is why you know he won't immediately shut you down when you suggest adding other people to your sex life; he looks pretty intrigued at your proposal. This is how you find yourself in your current position: on your knees facing the bed's headboard with your arms behind you with Bokuto positioned opposite you in precisely the same way, waiting for instructions. Daichi and Kuroo are seated on chairs on either side of the bed, both men palming themselves through their jeans.

"Why don't you two make out and make it sloppy," instructs Kuroo, unzipping his jeans. You can't contain your excitement as Bokuto pulls you onto his lap and connects your lips. He wastes no time shoving his tongue in your mouth, and you moan into his mouth at the feeling. There was so much saliva that the noise was borderline pornographic. Your hand's fist in his hair, pulling him impossibly close. You hear belts unbuckling and whining into Bokuto's mouth, knowing what's coming next. You glance to the side to see Daichi pulling his cock free from his boxers.

"so fucking pretty" hums Kuroo. He spits in his hand and wraps it around his cock. "Play with her pussy"

Bokuto's hand slips between the two of you, and you whimper into his mouth as he rubs circles on your clit.

"Her tits are so fucking sensitive," says Daichi, who's currently wrapping a hand around his thick cock. Bokuto pushes you on your back, slips a finger into your pussy and attaches his lips to your nipple. He bites and sucks on your nipple as he awaits another instruction. The noises you make at the feeling of his teeth against your nipple have him rock hard and ready to destroy you. He starts to grind his hips into the mattress, only stopping when Kuroo sharply tells him to. He adds another finger and curls it inside you. Bokuto moves to the other nipple, giving it just as much attention. Daichi groans as he watches you arch your back. He loves watching his girl. "You gonna cum, baby?" he asks, eyes not leaving your body as you buck your hips into Bokuto, who's stuffing another finger into your tight pussy.

You nod, feeling your stomach tighten in anticipation. Bokuto grins as you squirm on his fingers, feeling impossibly close. Your orgasm washes over you and leaves you feeling breathless. Bokuto moans as you coat his hand in your release. You knew Bokuto would be a moaner instead of a grunter, but hearing him in person is so much hotter than you thought it could be.

"good girl", coos Kuroo taking his hand off of his cock so that he doesn't cum too soon. "Shit, you're a hot little thing", he growls, standing up and grabbing Bokuto's wrist. He pulls Bokuto's hand to his face and sucks juices off of his fingers. He looks so good that you let out a dreamy sigh in appreciation at the sight, and Kuroo chuckles and pats your head.

His hand that was patting you switches to gripping your hair and pulling you onto your knees.

"Lay back, pretty boy."

Bokuto shuffles down the bed a little bit as Kuroo instructed. Kuroo pulled your face over Bokuto's cock. It's pretty, as pretty as a cock can be. He's so big you aren't sure if you can fit it in your mouth. His cock is an angry red and in desperate need of a warm wet little throat to fuck. You obediently lick up the underside of him and take the head into your mouth. Bokuto struggles to control his hips as a tingling sensation shoots up his spine, and he instinctively bucks into your mouth. The unexpected movement forces his fat cock further down your throat, making you gag, a sensation that pulls a beautiful moan from his throat.

With a lot of cooing from Daichi and Kuroo, you and Bokuto calm down and get back to it. Kuroo's hand on your head and the vocal encouragement from Daichi help you take Bokuto deeper into your throat. You bring your hands to wrap around what you can't fit in your mouth. Bokuto's moans turn to growls as you take even more of him in your mouth. He's so worked up that he's already close, and the way you're working your tongue against him has him rapidly approaching his release.

"She's so good", he whines, slowly bucking into you again. "I'm close"

Daichi chuckles, knowing precisely what he's talking about. His hand comes to pet your head in silent praise, letting you know how much of a good girl you're being. You continue to bob your head, preparing to swallow every drop of cum from Bokutos cock. Bokuto's gentle thrusts stutter as his hands push the others out of the way so that he has something to hold onto. His grip on your hair is so harsh that you can't help but moan around his cock, the vibrations of which send him over the edge. Bokuto moans and curses as he shoots his cum down your throat. You try to swallow as much as you can, but the load is so heavy that when you pull away, his cum drips from down your chin to your chest. All three men keep their eyes focused on you as you scoop his cum off of your chest and suck it off of your fingers one by one, groaning as you taste his cum on your tongue. They all whisper praises under their breaths, considering you the most appealing sight they've ever seen. The sight of your perfect lips wrapped around your fingers has them growling. You open your mouth, stick out your tongue to show them you are a good girl, and swallow it all down.

Daichi and Kuroo, who had grown too antsy and unable to watch anymore, grab you, and Bokuto pulls you to their respective sides of the bed. They hold the rope from the box you and Daichi keep under the bed and get to work tying your wrists together. You glance up at Bokuto, who’s already grinning at you. The positions they have you in mean that you and Bokuto are still facing each other.

You moan as Daichi pushes his thick cock into your pussy, splitting you open on him. He lets you adjust to his size before pulling back, causing you to whimper.

"Aww, poor baby. You feel all empty now, huh?" He laughs and waits for you to respond. The frantic nod you give is answer enough, and he thrusts back into you. The gasp you release when he pushes back in gives him a little ego boost. He knows he’s big, but watching you, all wet and eager, struggle to take him fuels his pride. You are an insatiable little thing, ready to present and endure a punishment. Daichi is never panicky about going too far. He always keeps a watchful eye on your state and trusts you to use your safeword if needed.

You clench tightly around him, snapping him away from his thoughts and back to his cock buried inside you. You begin to squirm in his grasp, and he smacks your ass as a warning to behave.

"You’re squeezing Daddy so tight."

“Daddy, huh?” teases Kuroo. Daichi just grunts at him, saving a smart-mouth retort for later.

You’re lost in the feeling of Daichis thick cock stretching you open that you almost forget Kuroo and Bokuto's presence until you hear Bokuto whimper and moan directly into your ear. Daichi smacks your other ass cheek twice, enjoying the way you respond. Kuroo follows suit, swatting Bokuto's ass with equal force to Daichi, grinning at the high-pitched noise that gets caught in Bokuto's throat.

"Look at them", coos Daichi, landing yet another harsh slap on your ass as he continues to thrust into your sensitive cunt. "They look so cute, all tied up and messy". Kuroo hums in agreement, pulling Bokuto up to his chest and biting down on his neck.

"Such good little whores, being obedient little cock sleeves," says Kuroo in a sweet tone of voice, contradicting his filthy words. " I didn't know your innocent little Y/N was so dirty", he chuckles.

Daichi grips your hair in his fist and pulls your head so it's tilted upwards. He moves his hand to your jaw and forces your mouth open; there’s a 'puh' noise followed by the sensation of Daichi's saliva hitting your tongue. He collects more saliva and spits into your mouth to show Kuroo just how filthy you really are. Kuroo pushes Bokuto back towards the bed so that he is level with you, keeping his fist tight in his hair.

"Don't swallow", Daichi warns, pushing you further along the bed so your head is at a perfect angle for Kuroo. You try not to swallow as Kuroo smirks before spitting in your waiting mouth, his saliva mixes with Daichi's and your own. The feeling makes you whimper. You curl your tongue so the saliva doesn't drip out of your mouth. These powerful men spitting into your mouth makes your pussy clench and drool, which doesn't go unnoticed by Daichi, who presses a kiss to your shoulder. Daichi pulls you backwards on the bed so you are face-to-face with Bokuto. Bokuto spits into your mouth and closes the gap between you, slotting your lips together in a messy kiss, tongue lapping messily against yours. Both Daichi and Kuroo let out a groan at the sight. You’re so glad you brought this up. Your skin feels tingly, and you’ve never felt anything like this. Bokuto's mouth feels so good against yours, and your doms are enjoying themselves if their heavy thrusts and growling words were anything to go by.

You’re so engrossed in Bokuto's mouth on yours that you don't notice the wand vibrator Daichi’s pulled out from your toybox until he presses it to your clit, causing you to moan and writhe in his grasp. Daichi knows he fucks you well and is never insecure about using toys. He considers any man who sees toys as a threat to be a pussy. Why wouldn't he want you to have toys when they can be helpful in situations like this? How could he hate your toys when he can use them to reduce you to a sobbing mess? He picks up his thrusts, causing your teeth to clash with Bokuto's as you are pushed forward with each hard thrust.

"Come on baby, give me another one" his words spur you on, and you whine embarrassingly loud, earning a condescending laugh from Kuroo. You let out a pathetic moan and push back onto him, practically begging him to go deeper. Your face is pressed into Bokuto's shoulder, and you can feel the coil in your stomach tighten. Bokuto moans in your ear as Kuroo frantically fucks into his tight ass, and the sound makes you clench around your boyfriend.

"fuck, I'm gonna cum” You continue your mindless babbling as Daichi coos filthy words of encouragement in your ear. You can barely hear Bokutos's frantic whimpering as Kuroo lands a harsh spank on his ass because all you can think about is cumming. When your orgasm finally washes over you, you bite down on Bokuto's shoulder to stop a sob from escaping your throat. The pleasurable sting of your teeth helps push Bokuto towards his orgasm. His asshole clenches around Kuroo's cock at the feeling.

"Shit, so fucking tight."

Your head falls to the mattress beneath you as Bokuto lets out a long, high-pitched whine followed by a loud string of curses. Daichis frantic praise is the only signal you get before he cums, emptying his balls inside your hot little cunt.

Bokuto had made a mess of your bed, and you aren't any different. Both of you have little time to breathe and fully recover before the wand is passed to Kuroo, who presses it against Bokuto's balls and reaches his hand around to play with his still-hard cock.

Daichi toys with your pussy, rubbing your clit and curling his fingers inside your cunt. He leans down to suck and bite at your ass and thighs, marking his territory. He waits until you’re at your brink, aided by the sounds Bokuto makes, and pulls his fingers away from you. His heart jumps a little at your sad whine. Denying you is so much fun.

Bokuto, however, doesn't get the same treatment. Kuroo seems intent on milking Bokuto dry. He doesn't relent in his pace as he jerks off Bokuto and keeps the vibrator pressed to his balls. Daichi lifts you from your position, holding your neck lightly.

"Watch, baby, see how fucking hot they are."

You watch as Bokuto shiver, growling deep in his throat as he cums once again. He looks so incredible when he cums that you can't help but verbalise it.

"Holy fuck, Kou. You look so good."

Bokuto grins at your praise, looking up at you exhausted. You barely catch his wink as you’re being pushed back down so your chest rubs against the quilt. Kuroo lets Bokuto gain his breath back as he watches you and Daichi. He can't wait to fuck you, to kiss Daichi, to watch Daichi fuck his boyfriend.

Daichi grabs a knife on the bedside table and runs it gently across your ass cheek, pressing enough to leave a thin red mark behind. You whimper quietly, struggling to form a coherent thought.

Daichi steps back to admire your body. He loves seeing you like this. On your knees, displaying your glistening pussy to him. He takes a moment to look at the bite marks and hickeys littering your thighs from both himself and Bokuto and follows them up to your ass cheeks which are red in the centre, and your right cheek shows hints of a bruise. On the left, the thin red line threatened to fade. He mutters out compliments as he situates the blade to your wrists and cuts you free of your bindings, smiling to himself in amusement when you keep your arms behind your back as you don't have the energy to move them.

He rolls you over, smoothes his hand over your legs, and presses kisses to your calf. He is looking at Kuroo, who is using the discarded knife to cut Bokuto free. Daichi has only had one orgasm, and yet he feels blissed out. He doesn't need to cum over and over to feel completely satisfied. He gets off when you get off. Knowing he made you feel this good, hearing you beg for him is enough for him. However, looking at the now untied Bokuto, who is gazing up at the ceiling with a satisfied look on his face, he wants nothing more than to have Bokuto's pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

"You look hungry, Kuroo," he says, still holding your legs. "Want a taste?" Kuroo happily walks around the bed and kneels in front of you. You squirm, knowing you'll probably be too sensitive for oral right now. You moan loudly as Kuroo skillfully licks a stripe up your pussy and clamps his lips around your clit on his way back down. You let out a strangled yell and writhe around despite Kuroo's grip on your hips. It feels so good.

"so, sen-uh fuck, too sensitive", you practically shout, earning a chuckle from Kuroo, who comes up to ask you if you need to stop. You think for a second and then shake your head furiously, he's already started his assault on your clit, and you’re so desperate for more contact that you begin to think that you might combust if he doesn't finish.

"You know you can use your safeword whenever you want to stop or take a break or even just slow down, right?" he asks, making sure you weren't pushing past your limits for his sake. You nod and try to moan at him to go back to what he was doing, but your words get caught in your throat as Kuroo pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, diving back in to lap at your pussy as if it was the last meal he'd ever have. He holds three fingers to your lips and forces them into your mouth. Kuroo groans into your pussy, making you shiver, as you swirl your tongue around his digits, sucking them as if they were his cock. He replaces his fingers with his thumb, grunting as you instinctively bite down in response to a particularly harsh suck of your clit.

On the other side of the bed, Daichi is thrusting into Bokuto's hot mouth. Bokuto is lying on his back with his head over the edge of the bed. Daichi was thrusting into Bokuto's throat like a fleshlight, causing Bokuto to whine and squirm beneath him. Daichi's hand comes down to press against Bokuto’s throat so that he’s practically jerking himself off through Bokuto's throat. When Daichi pulls his cock back, Bokuto takes the fleeting moment of freedom to gasp at any air he can take before Daichi shoves his cock back into Bokuto's eager mouth. Daichi looks down next to Bokuto's pliant body and watches as Kuroo flips you over onto your knees and shoves two fingers into your pussy, licking over the rim of your tight asshole. He teases your tight hole with his thumb as he sucks a purple bruise onto your ass cheek. He moved his mouth back to your ass hole as he thrust his fingers into your used cunt.

Daichi catches sight of the look on your face and almost instantly cums. Your eyes are heavily lidded and slightly crossed, cheeks flushed red and mouth open, leaving a pool of saliva. You look blissed out and drunk on sex. Daichi thinks you look breathtaking. He makes it his mission to see this face whenever you have sex. The thought that someone else is making you make that face should cause a possessive spark to ignite in his stomach, but instead, it makes him feel warm. He finds it so insanely hot that Kuroo can pull such a nasty expression from you. He gives a particularly rough thrust into Bokuto's throat, causing him to gag and moan around Daichi, who's now close to his second orgasm. He watches as your orgasm hits you, and you physically can't scream the way you want, as the only noises coming from you are soft whines and choked moans.

"You're so fucking gorgeous", He growls, picking up his pace in Bokuto's mouth. He thrusts his hips as Bokuto hollows his cheeks. "God, Kou, your throat feels so fucking good", He moans as he shoots ropes of thick cum down Bokuto's throat. He pulls away from Bokuto's throat and leans down to make sure he’s ok as he regains his breath, mumbling praises at him. When he looks up, he sees you on your back as Kuroo grabs the vibrator. Your thighs shake as you struggle to hold your legs up. You're beyond sensitive. A simple pinch on your bare skin could send you over the edge. As soon as you feel the simmering tension in your stomach, Kuroo pulls the wand away with a smirk, denying you the release you so desperately crave.

It's so attractive how much power they held over you.

"let me take over", sighs Daichi, taking the vibrator from Kuroo and pressing it back to your clit. He leans over your body to get a good look at your face. You're making that expression again, which makes heat prickle up his back. He looks at your open mouth, where your tongue is leaving sloppy trails of saliva, and pushes three fingers into your mouth, getting his fingers ready for you. He thrusts his slick fingers into your tight cunt at an angle that has you seeing stars. He knows your body so exceptionally well; it's as much a blessing as it is a curse. He has the ability to manipulate your body as if it were on puppet strings. As soon as he feels you clench around his thick fingers, he pulls the wand away and stills his hand. You attempt to let out a frustrated shriek, but it comes out as a strangled cry, a noise that makes his cock twitch. He gazes at your hole as it clenches around nothing. Once you catch your breath, he continues thrusting his fingers inside you and switches the angle of his fingers to get as deep as possible, curling them and making you arch your back into him. This time, having entirely regained his energy, Bokuto joins Daichi's assault on your heated, desperate body by licking and flicking at your sensitive nipples. The sensations are overwhelming, and you need release badly. However, it doesn't seem like your boyfriend got the message as, once again, he stops. Your orgasm is ripped from you, and you choke back a sob. This time, you don't shriek or protest. You simply cannot do it. You clench your eyes shut, grit your teeth and let the tears fall. Daichi moans between your legs, clearly pleased with your reactions, and curls his fingers inside you. This time he finally lets you cum, and a strange feeling washes over your body as you gush cum. You sit up the best you can, panting like a bitch in heat, and you finally realise what that feeling was. Daichi is sitting on his knees in front of you, with cum dripping down his chin and onto his chest, and the fluid is sticking his hair to his forehead. You go to apologise to Daichi for squirting on him, but he chuckles and nips at the inside of your thigh with his teeth. Looking up at Kuroo and Bokuto, he gives a satisfied smirk.

"I'm pretty sure I could go all damn night. What about you?" he stands up, pressing his lips to Kuroo's as Bokuto nuzzles his face against yours, whispering praises against your skin to let you know how good you had been and help you come down from an incredibly intense high. You could hear the low moans from Daichi and Kuroo, who were still locked in a deep kiss.

"Can I fuck her? I wanna fuck her pussy so bad," asks Kuroo against his lips. Daichi nods and pulls away, letting Kuroo settle himself between your legs. As soon as the head of his cock breaches your hole, panic rises in your body. As much as you want to continue, your body cannot handle it.

"Orange", you breathe out, and immediately Kuroo pulls out, and Daichi begins to smooth your hair. The room goes oddly silent, waiting for you to speak.

"Tell us what was wrong, baby. Are you hurt?"

"It hurt a little. I just need a break. I don't wanna stop," you say between heavy breaths. They all nod, exchanging glances, and Daichi scoops you up in his arms, pulling you up towards the pillows and cradling you to his chest.

"I'll help her calm down and chill. You keep going, and we'll join when we're ready,” says Daichi. Kuroo has Bokuto on his back and is kissing his neck. You curled into Daichi's chest, letting his heartbeat calm you down. Your previous orgasm was intense, and the aftershocks still linger in your body. Daichi holds a water bottle to your lips, rubbing your back as you drink it. "Such a good girl, you're an absolute angel", he whispers, pressing kisses to your cheek. He helped you catch your breath and cool down.

When your pulse returns to normal, you crawl towards Kuroo and Bokuto. Kuroo’s buried balls deep in Bokuto.

"Can I just watch?" you ask, not yet ready to join them. They nod, and Daichi takes his place at Bokuto's mouth. A strange feeling washes over you, and you feel content like you could watch the scene in front of you forever. You bring your fingers down to rub your clit and tease your hole. You watch Kuroo's forearms tense up, and Daichi's thighs flex as they fuck Bokuto, whose moans are driving you insane. It is stupidly hot to watch this, even though you're watching your boyfriend have sex with someone else. You feel no jealousy whatsoever, just a desperate need to move your fingers faster.

"Princess?" You look up at Kuroo. "Can I have a taste?" His voice is soft- he's still wary of your exhaustion levels- and it spreads warmth throughout your stomach. You nod and crawl over to him. You lean into him a little as he takes your slick, covered fingers in his mouth. He hums at the taste, playing it up a little for Daichi. "your pretty pussy tastes so good, baby" You’re feeling particularly soft and needy right now, and Kuroo seems pretty pleased when you lean up to kiss him. Your kiss with Kuroo is deep and sincere as if he's trying to tell you something. Daichi groans at how pretty you look tangled up in each other, and it comes out as more of a whine. Something in the air has changed, becoming painfully clear to him.

Daichi grins as you crawl over to him, pulling him into an equally emotion-fueled kiss. This feels right. Your hand works its way through Bokuto's hair, giving it a tug which it's obvious he enjoys by the muffled moan he gives around Daichi's cock. Daichi growls into your mouth and begins to thrust harder into Bokuto's throat. You can hear Kuroo throwing praise at Bokuto by the bucket and coaxing him to cum. You decided to do the same with Daichi, knowing he was weak for your voice.

"Please cum. I want you to cum in Bokuto's mouth. Please, Daddy, I love it when you cum" You whimper in his ear as if you're the one he's fucking, and you know you have the effect you want when the hand that isn't occupied by Bokuto's hair wraps around your neck. He pulls you close to his face and is careful not to squeeze.

"Kou, don't swallow," he says to Bokuto as he keeps his rough pace with Bokuto's throat. "You, pretty girl, are gonna bend down to his level and take my cum directly from his mouth since you love my cum so much" The growl of dominance in Daichi's voice is addicting. It makes your stomach do flips. Daichi lets go of your neck and focuses back on his orgasm. Every rut of his hips is accompanied by a muttered curse. "m'cumming", he moans, holding Bokuto's head down on his cock. Daichis arms flex, and his head rolls back, making your stomach flutter. When he pulls out, Kuroo lifts Bokuto slightly so you can crawl beneath him and open your mouth. Bokuto spits a little cum in your mouth and then leans down to slot his lips against yours. You wrap your legs around Bokuto's waist and clutch his hair in your fingers.

"So desperate", murmurs Daichi, who has moved around the bed so he can get a proper view of you and Bokuto swapping his cum between you. You swallow down the cum and give a satisfied grin. Every slam of Kuroo's cock inside Bokuto sends his cock rutting against your slick folds. You whine at the friction. Kuroo moves his hands back to Bokuto's hips, and Bokuto's head drops down to your neck, sucking a mark into the skin. The noises you make every time the head of his cock bumps your clit are swallowed by his mouth as he comes back up to kiss you.

"fuck, you're so pretty", he moans into the kiss. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, I need to cum so bad. Tetsu, please" Bokuto's whines were becoming incomprehensible as he approached his orgasm. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he shoots ropes of cum all over your bare stomach. It's a beautiful sight in Daichi's mind. Kuroo is pushed over the edge pretty soon after, and he lets out a gorgeous low groan as he empties his balls inside Bokuto. Your body's getting warmer, and the tingly, almost overwhelming sensation is rising. You feel as if you exist on a whole different plane. Bringing this up to Daichi was the best decision you have ever made. You feel Daichi wipe the cum off of your stomach and when he finishes, he swipes his fingers through your sopping pussy.

"You're so fucking wet. You're insatiable, huh?" he chuckles from deep in his throat. "Bokuto lay down."

You crawl on top of Bokuto, hovering your pussy above his thick cock. You line him up and sink on him. His cock stretches you perfectly, and when he bottoms out, you arch into him, burying your face in his neck. You whimper into his skin at how good he felt inside you.

"You ready, baby?" you can feel the lust dripping from Daichi's voice as he pushes a lubed-up finger into your asshole. You moan pathetically as he thrusts another finger in, preparing you for his cock.

"C'mon, Daichi, she's squeezing me so tight. Can't you go any faster?" Bokuto’s trying so hard not to rut his hips up into you. Daichi opens the lube again, squirts a generous amount on his hand, and jerks himself a few times so that he is properly lubed up.

"I'm gonna start now, okay baby?" Daichi gives a small warning before pushing his fat cock past the rim of your tight little asshole. The stretch is foreign but not unwelcome. You're feeling unbelievably full, and he's only halfway in. You try to verbalise the feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you are speechless, unable to produce anything other than whines and broken moans of their names. You weren't sure if you could take them both all the way.

"How you feelin' baby girl?" he asks as he pushes himself three-quarters of the way in. You reach back to claw at him to let him know you were feeling full. It was a silent warning that you couldn't take much more. "easy baby, easy", he cooed, calming you down and rubbing your hips. "Just let me know if it gets too much, okay?"

You nod in response, and your eyes roll back into your head as he pushes the last of his cock inside you. You feel insanely full. It's a new sensation for you. They give you a few moments to adjust in which all three men coo praises at you, letting you know how much of a good girl you are for taking both cocks.

They start to set a decent pace inside you, alternating their thrusts so that you are never empty. Kuroos is not sure he could get any harder, but watching all three of you become desperate, horny little messes has his head swimming. He waits until they set a more comfortable pace, and you get accustomed to the feeling before adding himself to the fray.

"You've got another hole for me to fill, haven't you, princess?" he asks, cocking his head at you. You obediently drop your jaw and waste no time in wrapping your lips around his perfect cock. Kuroo curses as you take him deeper and threads a hand through your hair, opting to pet your head instead of harshly tugging. "such a perfect little mouth."

You're filled up and overwhelmed by the three men inside you. Their combined scents are making you dizzy. It's incredible. You attempt to bob your head on Kuroo's cock, desperate to make him feel good, too, and you receive an appreciative head pat in return. You can't do much else, and your body's busy responding to Daichi and Bokuto. Both men are hitting deep spots inside you, chasing their orgasms as well as yours. Their cocks sliding in and out of you feel like heaven. There's nothing in the world you want more at this moment than to be filled with their cum. Your velvet walls clench and spasm around their cocks, pulling them deeper and alerting them of your impending orgasm. Kuroo's still ridiculously sensitive after fucking Bokuto, and it doesn't take long for the tight constricting muscles of your throat to pull him over the edge. He pulls out of your mouth once he's finished and cups your face in his hands, telling you how pretty you look as you swallow his cum. You really are the prettiest sight he had ever seen.

"I'm gonna cum", you whimper, gripping Kuroo's arm.

"Do it, Baby, please cum for us", whines Bokuto, who's not far behind you. Daichi's grip on your hips is sure to bruise, but you pay it no mind as your body shakes with the sheer force of your orgasm. You feel like you're floating and never want to lose this feeling. Your walls feel impossibly tight as you gush on their cocks, and they both follow immediately after, grunting as they fill you up with their hot cum. They rub at your skin to calm you down, and both men are careful not to move too much.

"You did such a good job for us, baby girl. I'm so proud of you. I love you so much" Daichis the most vocal in calming you down, and when you finally return to this plain of existence, he gently lifts you off of their cocks, shushing and whispering in your ear as you gasp at the sudden empty feeling. He asks Kuroo to get a damp cloth to clean up your mess. Bokuto crawls over and flops down beside you and Daichi. He has a satisfied grin, but looks like he will pass out any minute.

Kuroo returned with two tea towels and handed one to Daichi. He begins to wipe up the mess on your thighs, apologising when he wipes at your sensitive pussy.

"I love you. You're my everything, you know that? I mean it, baby," he hums happily as you bury your face in his neck and let him go ahead and clean you up. "My pretty girl, my angel. You're so perfect. You are truly the best woman I could ask for, and I love to play with you" his voice is soft and comforting. He puts the cloth aside and tilts your head upwards. "Do you need anything?" You shake your head and grab onto him, wanting nothing more than to drift off to sleep shrouded in the warmth of big, sexy, buff men. You cling to Daichi as he settles himself against the pillows, and shortly after, Bokuto's arm wraps around you. You contently drift off to sleep.

***

Daichi wakes up feeling worn out but satisfied. He stretches and feels you curl further into his side. He loves you so much his heart could burst. He smiles as he looks down at you. You look content and happy. He looks past you to see Bokuto cuddled into your back, spooning you, and his heart skips a beat. He smooths Bokuto's hair, careful not to wake him up. He notices Kuroo's gone and gets up just to check on him. His movement makes you stir and wake up a bit.

"Daichi?" your voice is so tired and small.

"Go back to sleep, baby", he chuckles, kissing your forehead and walking downstairs to see Kuroo making breakfast.

"Hey"

"Hey"

There's a beat of comfortable silence before Kuroo speaks up.

"A line was crossed last night -and I'm

not saying that's a bad thing- but we should talk about it" Daichi nods in agreement, thinking back on how it felt to wake up in the same bed as Bokuto.

"Yeah, last night was more than just sex. Do you want me to wake them up?"

"Nah, I'll get them when I'm finished making breakfast. They need the rest. They'll probably be sore when they get up. Especially Y/N, we exhausted that poor girl.

"Yeah, we should give them some time before we start talking," says Daichi, stretching his arms back. He notices Kuroo staring at him while he stretches. "Don't burn the bacon", he teases, snapping Kuroo's attention away from his chest.

When you appear at the kitchen door in Daichi's shirt with Bokuto in just his boxers, The atmosphere feels peaceful and cosy like this was how it was always supposed to be.

"Thanks, Hot stuff", grins Bokuto, taking a plate of food from Kuroo. You all sit at the table and scarf down your food, as the previous night's activities left you starving.

"How are you?" asks Daichi, raising an eyebrow as you finish your plate.

"Sore and exhausted," you lean back in your chair. All three men look proud of themselves. "But so so good", you add with a satisfied smile.

"Atta girl," smirked Daichi, rubbing your thigh. Bokuto's voice fills the room and causes a somewhat tense silence.

"Are we dating now?"

You look at Daichi, not wanting to admit that the thought of bringing them into your relationship makes you happy. You think about your genuine feelings for them, and Kuroo speaks up.

"I actually wanted to talk about that because I like you, both of you just the same as I like Kou. Last night just really made that clear to me"

You're comforted by the fact that Daichi was smiling. You shyly nod, heat rising in your cheeks. You can't stop a smile of your own from splitting across your face. The others seem to have noticed too because Bokuto rests a hand on your thigh.

"so are we-?"

"Yes," there's a clear answer from everyone. The rest of breakfast is filled with giggling, chatting and date planning. You're quieter, opting to listen to the boys' conversation instead. You're still tired, and you can't quite shake the exhaustion.

"You okay, Princess?" asks Kuroo, "you seem out of it"

"Can we go back to bed? I'm still tired."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed :)

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Yanis Varoufakis’s “Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism?”

Monday (October 2), I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

Socialists have been hotly anticipating the end of capitalism since at least 1848, when Marx and Engels published The Communist Manifesto - but the Manifesto also reminds us that capitalism is only too happy to reinvent itself during its crises, coming back in new forms, over and over again:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

Now, in Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism, Yanis Varoufakis - the "libertarian Marxist" former finance minister of Greece - makes an excellent case that capitalism died a decade ago, turning into a new form of feudalism: technofeudalism:

https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/451795/technofeudalism-by-varoufakis-yanis/9781847927279

To understand where Varoufakis is coming from, you need to go beyond the colloquial meanings of "capitalism" and "feudalism." Capitalism isn't just "a system where we buy and sell things." It's a system where capital rules the roost: the richest, most powerful people are those who coerce workers into using their capital (factories, tools, vehicles, etc) to create income in the form of profits.

By contrast, a feudal society is one organized around people who own things, charging others to use them to produce goods and services. In a feudal society, the most important form of income isn't profit, it's rent. To quote Varoufakis: "rent flows from privileged access to things in fixed supply" (land, fossil fuels, etc). Profit comes from "entrepreneurial people who have invested in things that wouldn't have otherwise existed."

This distinction is subtle, but important: "Profit is vulnerable to market competition, rent is not." If you have a coffee shop, then every other coffee shop that opens on your block is a competitive threat that could erode your margins. But if you own the building the coffee shop owner rents, then every other coffee shop that opens on the block raises the property values and the amount of rent you can charge.

The capitalist revolution - extolled and condemned in the Manifesto - was led by people who valorized profits as the heroic returns for making something new in this world, and who condemned rents as a parasitic drain on the true producers whose entrepreneurial spirits would enrich us all. The "free markets" extolled by Adam Smith weren't free from regulation - they were free from rents:

https://locusmag.com/2021/03/cory-doctorow-free-markets/

But rents, Varoufakis writes, "survived only parasitically on, and in the shadows of, profit." That is, rentiers (people whose wealth comes from rents) were a small rump of the economy, slightly suspect and on the periphery of any consideration of how to organize our society. But all that changed in 2008, when the world's central banks addressed the Great Financial Crisis by bailing out not just the banks, but the bankers, funneling trillions to the people whose reckless behavior brought the world to the brink of economic ruin.

Suddenly, these wealthy people, and their banks, experienced enormous wealth-gains without profits. Their businesses lost billions in profits (the cost of offering the business's products and services vastly exceeded the money people spent on those products and services). But the business still had billions more at the end of the year than they'd had at the start: billions in public money, funneled to them by central banks.

This kicked off the "everything rally" in which every kind of asset - real estate, art, stocks, bonds, even monkey JPEGs - ballooned in value. That's exactly what you'd expect from an economy where rents dominate over profits. Feudal rentiers don't need to invest to keep making money - remember, their wealth comes from owning things that other people invest in to make money.

Rents are not vulnerable to competition, so rentiers don't need to plow their rents into new technology to keep the money coming in. The capitalist that leases the oil field needs to invest in new pumps and refining to stay competitive with other oil companies. But the rentier of the oil field doesn't have to do anything: either the capitalist tenant will invest in more capital and make the field more valuable, or they will lose out to another capitalist who'll replace them. Either way, the rentier gets more rent.

So when capitalists get richer, they spend some of that money on new capital, but when rentiers get richer, them spend money on more assets they can rent to capitalists. The "everything rally" made all kinds of capital more valuable, and companies that were transitioning to a feudal footing turned around and handed that money to their investors in stock buybacks and dividends, rather than spending the money on R&D, or new plants, or new technology.

The tech companies, though, were the exception. They invested in "cloud capital" - the servers, lines, and services that everyone else would have to pay rent on in order to practice capitalism.

Think of Amazon: Varoufakis likens shopping on Amazon to visiting a bustling city center filled with shops run by independent capitalists. However, all of those capitalists are subservient to a feudal lord: Jeff Bezos, who takes 51 cents out of every dollar they bring in, and furthermore gets to decide which products they can sell and how those products must be displayed:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

The postcapitalist, technofeudal world isn't a world without capitalism, then. It's a world where capitalists are subservient to feudalists ("cloudalists" in Varoufakis's thesis), as are the rest of us the cloud peons, from the social media users and performers who fill the technofuedalists' siloes with "content" to the regular users whose media diet is dictated by the cloudalists' recommendation systems:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

A defining feature of cloudalism is the ability of the rentier lord to destroy any capitalist vassal's business with the click of a mouse. If Google kicks your business out of the search index, or if Facebook blocks your publication, or if Twitter shadowbans mentions of your product, or if Apple pulls your app from the store, you're toast.

Capitalists "still have the power to command labor from the majority who are reliant on wages," but they are still mere vassals to the cloudalists. Even the most energetic capitalist can't escape paying rent, thanks in large part to "IP," which I claim is best understood as "laws that let a company reach beyond its walls to dictate the conduct of competitors, critics and customers":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Varoufakis points to ways that the cloudalists can cement their gains: for example, "green" energy doesn't rely on land-leases (like fossil fuels), but it does rely on networked grids and data-protocols that can be loaded up with IP, either or both of which can be turned into chokepoints for feudal rent-extraction. To make things worse, Varoufakis argues that cloudalists won't be able to muster the degree of coordination and patience needed to actually resolve the climate emergency - they'll not only extract rent from every source of renewables, but they'll also silo them in ways that make them incapable of doing the things we need them to do.

Energy is just one of the technofeudal implications that Varoufakis explores in this book: there are also lengthy and fascinating sections on geopolitics, monetary policy, and the New Cold War. Technofeudalism - and the struggle to produce a dominant fiefdom - is a very useful lens for understanding US/Chinese tech wars.

Though Varoufakis is laying out a technical and even esoteric argument here, he takes great pains to make it accessible. The book is structured as a long open letter to his father, a chemical engineer and leftist who was a political prisoner during the fascist takeover of Greece. The framing device works very well, especially if you've read Talking To My Daughter About the Economy, Varoufakis's 2018 radical economics primer in the form of a letter to his young daughter:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374538491/talkingtomydaughterabouttheeconomy

At the very end of the book, Varoufakis calls for "a cloud rebellion to overthrow technofeudalism." This section is very short - and short on details. That's not a knock against the book: there are plenty of very good books that consist primarily or entirely of analysis of the problems with a system, without having to lay out a detailed program for solving those problems.

But for what it's worth, I think there is a way to plan and execute a "cloud rebellion" - a way to use laws, technology, reverse-engineering and human rights frameworks to shatter the platforms and seize the means of computation. I lay out that program in The Internet Con: How the Seize the Means of Computation, a book I published with Verso Books a couple weeks ago:

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

[calamari-inari]

WIP of the cover for my upcoming ferdibert-centered artbook My Dearest. I'm scheduling POs to be late July or early August in time for the FE3H 5-year anniversary!

This book is literally an expression of my own timeskip with the pairing featuring personal artworks of Hubert and Ferdinand from 2021-2024! Please anticipate it soon!

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 6/16

<<< previous part

Word count - 2.5k

Warnings - alcohol usage

******

Yourusername added to their story

As the end of the year rolled around, Charles had to practically pry you out of Pascale’s arms to get you out of the Leclerc home. You couldn’t help but still feel guilty about the fact you’d been lying to her that you and Charles weren’t really anything - even though the definition of your relationship was becoming unclearer by the day. But Pascale had made you feel more at home than your own Father had in years, so saying goodbye was much harder than you anticipated.

But in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to talk to the team about you and Charles. But you weren’t sure how they’d react to the fact the fake relationship they’d made had started to shift into something real.

They had booked you both a flight - the day after New Years, you were heading out to Bali for the final stage of the winter break itinerary. You and Charles would be posting simultaneous stories and posts of you both on holiday but still in the ‘soft launch’ format. They had seemingly forgotten that January was the wettest month of the year but that would have to be something you figured out when you got there.

Because first it was your last outing in 2021. Pierre was throwing an all out New Year’s Eve bash and as Charles’ girlfriend, the invitation had been extended your way. You were a little cautious at first, knowing that this gathering would be larger than the last and would have more people from the F1 world, but your teammate assured you there was nothing to worry about.

You’d treated yourself to a new dress for the occasion, again - something you wouldn’t look too overdressed in besides Charles, but something that would make you feel and look good. Some part of you thought it would be risky wearing red, thinking people might think it was a clue, but with your ‘boyfriend’ being a Ferrari driver, surely it would be fine. Just a simple nod to your relationship.

But you couldn’t help but feel cautious - every time you stepped outside at Charles' side, your outfits were picked apart and critiqued by those who continued to hate you - despite being successful in your own right, in their eyes, you had used Charles to further your career. Which was bizarre considering your position hadn’t changed since you became ‘admin’. In fact, it surprised you that more people weren’t suspicious by your lack of career progress in general.

“Do I look overdressed?” You asked, as you slid your foot into one of your shoes.

Your teammate's eyes flickered up from his phone and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The dress flattered you in the perfect way, highlighting all of your best features. “You… you look beautiful.”

He relished the way your cheeks flushed, he crossed the room and knelt in front of you to do up the straps of your shoes. “But is it too much, Charles?”

“No, no. All the girls will be dressed up too. Pierre’s bashes are an excuse to go all out.” The Monaco driver stood up, holding his hands out for you to take. You smiled softly and laced your fingers with his, giggling a little as he pulled you close. “Besides, it means I get to kiss the prettiest girl at the party when the clock strikes midnight.”

“Mhmm, I’ll keep an eye out for her.” You teased, pulling him closer so you could press your lips to his in a chaste kiss before he could protest your self-critique. “Now, let’s go. We don’t want to be the last people to show up.”

Charles eagerly followed you like a lost puppy down to the car - wanting nothing more right now than to skip the party and just stay in with you. But Pierre would kill him for skipping, he had been planning this party for what felt like the entire year at this point. And he was convinced that the Frenchman wanted to spend more time around you, despite your ‘relationship’ with his childhood friend. And he knew Lewis was going to be around, another man whose eyes always seemed to linger a little too long for his liking.

“Wow, Pierre really knows how to throw a bash.” You whistled lowly as the driver pulled up outside the venue. The music was already thumping inside and there was a steady stream of invited party-goers being let inside whilst others were being turned away. “Ready?”

Charles nodded and climbed out of the car, offering his hand to you so you could climb out easier in your heeled shoes. His hand stayed wrapped around yours as you crossed the pavement - security letting you in without a moment of hesitation, a glass of champagne put in your free hand as soon as you crossed the threshold.

“We should find Pierre and say hi.” Your teammate leant in close to yell into your ear.

“Lead the way.” You smiled, your heart fluttering as he pulled you closer so as not to lose you in the crowds.

The two of you somehow weaved through everyone without Charles getting caught up in conversation - swiftly making your way over to the large table that Pierre had taken up with trays and trays of alcohol. The French driver’s smile grew bigger when he saw you and Charles approach, stepping over to pull you both into a hug. You could smell the alcohol on him as his embrace lasted a little too long, pressing a kiss to each of your cheeks.

“Alright, mate, that’s enough.” Charles laughed, extracting you from his childhood friend’s arms. “This one is taken.”

Pierre waved him off, daring to take one more glance at you - the blue of his eyes barely visible from his drunken pupils. “Shots?”

Your eyes scanned the room for a moment whilst Charles tried to deny his friend’s request to see who else was there. Lewis tipped his glass towards you as you locked eyes and you gave him a shy wave in return. It looked like a lot of the grid had actually made the effort to come out but you couldn’t help but feel Max’s eyes burning into you from where he stood with Daniel. “Does Max not like me anymore?”

The Monegasque frowned and looked over his shoulder at the Redbull driver, who simply raised his drink in silent cheers to his rival. “Why would you think that?”

“…just don’t get good vibes from him these days. I don’t think he trusts me.” You admitted, letting Charles pull you closer to you. “Surely he can’t know, right?”

“But it’s not fake-“

You raised a brow, and he pressed his mouth into a line. It wasn’t the relationship, it was who you were - and you were worried Max has become suspicious of you. There’s no way. He thought. How would he even make that connection? Charles simply shook his head a little and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

Max just knew something was up. Ever since the articles came out about a woman under 30 being Thirty, you shot to the top of his list and the timing of your relationship with Charles was just so suspicious. They probably thought no one would suspect a driver’s girlfriend would be Thirty but since you ‘lost your seat’ in F2, the general public for the most part barely remembered your previous racing career.

“You’re staring.” Daniel spoke up from beside the Dutchman, nudging him gently - drawing Max’s gaze away from you. “What is your deal with her?”

“…you’ll think I’m crazy.” Max grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

This only intrigued Daniel more. “Hit me with it.”

Max looked around to make sure no one else was about to hear his admission, as positive as he was about it - it did sound bonkers to anyone who hadn’t even considered it. “I think y/n is Thirty.”

The Australian blinked at his friend a few times as he processed what he said before bursting into laughter. “No, seriously, you fancy her or something? The childhood sweetheart who got away?”

The younger driver groaned and shook his head. He knew Daniel wouldn’t believe him, he didn’t know you like Max had. Instead of trying to convince his former teammate of his theory, he simply changed the conversation. You hadn’t missed the way both drivers had looked over at you but you pretended to ignore it - making sure as many photos were taken of you and Charles together as possible.

As the evening drew on, you found yourself sandwiched between your ‘boyfriend’ and Max - not sure how or why by Pierre had insisted on pulling you all to the same booth for a drink and no one had moved since. Charles arm draped lazily over your shoulder, fingers tapping against your skin to the music.

“So.” Max chirped, you winced a little before lifting your eyes from your glass to meet his gaze. “How do you like working for Ferrari?”

He watched as you visibly relaxed at his question, clearly expecting something else. “Yeah. It’s good. I still get to travel the world with the sport I love - it’s not what I wanted but y’know is what it is… I’ve been part of the team a long time now, so I’m content.”

“Yeah, disappointing they’ve not given you any kind of promotion considering your loyalty.” He hummed, swirling his beer. “What’s it been, 8 years this year?”

You nodded. “Is what it is, as I said. I’m content.”

The two of you held eye contact for a little too long - almost as if he was challenging you to give your identity away but instead you turned your attention to Charles, your teammate pulling you closer to his side. Max let out a quiet huff and threw back some of his beer. You’d known each other since you were kids, he knew you’d have an NDA but part of him wished you still trusted him enough to tell him.

But when you left F2, the friendship sizzled out - your forced proximity when you raced together made you friends and the distance after split you apart. You just weren’t the same girl he grew up with anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was Thirty that did it to you but you were a shell of the boisterous, courageous person he remembered growing up. That’s why he wanted you to be Thirty; so he could convince you to take off the mask and maybe the old you could come back.

“Excuse me.” Max left the table, his beer only half drunk - seemingly abandoned in disappointment.

Your jaw clenched a little as you fought back the urge to chase after him, convincing him that you weren’t Thirty, you just couldn't be. But at this point you were sure there was no way back.

Max had figured you out.

****

***

You woke up the next morning with an absolute cracker of a headache, thanking the heavens above that your flight wasn’t until tomorrow. Last night very quickly became a blur after your interaction with Max - opting to drink away the fear instead of trying to change his mind. You knew that was a lost cause, so instead you’d focus your intentions on Charles, on whatever the two of you were. Not wanting to let yourself drown in the possibility of Max outing you as Thirty.

The sun creeped through the gap in the curtain, crawling across the sheets that had long been discarded to the lower part of the bed in the heat of the night. Whilst you and Charles had stayed fairly PG with your relationship until that point - you’d found yourself tumbling into bed with him after the party, clothes thrown haphazardly across the room but it seemed you both fell asleep before anything really happened.

That didn’t stop you from studying Charles’ sleeping body beside you, the sheets pushed down to his hips, a toned leg sticking out the side. He was truly beautiful, especially when he was peaceful like this - not a care in the world carving a frown into his features. You cautiously reached out and cupped his jaw in your hand, brushing your thumb across his soft skin. He lent into your touch, his eyelashes fluttering for a moment before you were met by his soft green gaze.

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips curved into a pretty smile, one just for you. “Morning… some night, last night, huh?”

“You could say that.” You hummed. “When you said you were going to kiss me at midnight? I wasn’t expecting you to put on such a show.”

The one part of the night you could remember cleared than any other, was as everyone counted down as the clock struck and the way your teammate had dipped you in the last few moments, before pressing a deep kiss to your lips as everyone screamed out Happy New Year. You couldn’t help but smile into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Wanted to show off the fact that the most beautiful girl in the place was with me.” He chuckled, sitting up - pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Got the best sight to wake up to as well, I see.”

Your cheeks flushed dark as his eyes flickered across your bare chest for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I remember getting naked and then both of us just passed out.”

He laughed. “Me too, I’d like to remember being intimate with you… so I’m glad we didn’t yet.”

Intimate. Yet. It probably didn’t seem like much but the choice of words couldn’t help make you think that he was thinking of a future with you. He hadn’t been crude about it, and he wanted to remember it. You watched as he slipped out of bed, allowing yourself the simple joy of studying his full figure as he moved around the room to collect his outfit for the day, folding your dress up and putting it on the chair before handing you one of his t-shirts.

“I’ll make us some breakfast, come join when you’re ready.” Your teammate smiled sweetly, pressing another kiss to your lips. “No rush.”

It was so domestic and so easy. That scared you. You were scared that it was a repeat of your childhood friendships and the only reason he was into you was the forced proximity. That if given the chance he’d realise that you weren’t what he wanted and he could get any girl.

And it didn’t help that a lot of the internet seemed to feel the same way. At least what you saw.

You could only hope that despite the relationship getting off to a false start - that the two of you would stay on track and maybe after your talk with the team, you could really focus on you and Charles and not the ever darkening cloud of your exposure, threatening to break any day now.

*****************************************

Next part >>>

Sorry for the delay and the shorter nature of this chapter! I had a plan in my head for each chapter but then I realised I wanted to add other things so scrapped what I had and started again 😬 hope it was worth the wait!

Thank you all for the support ❤️

Want to be updated when I post? Join our discord and then head to #reaction-roles and add yourself to my tags ❤️

[honibunny]

Dance of Deception

playlist : Whatta Man and Seven Nation Army | Cinderella (2021)

summary : You help Lily by distracting James at a dance

James Potter x reader

In the cozy nook of the library, I found solace amidst the scent of old and new books, reveling in the comfort that flooded through my veins. As I lost myself in the pages, the tranquility was interrupted by hurried footsteps approaching. With a knowing smile, I glanced up to find Lily standing before me, her expression fraught with desperation. Closing my book, I sighed softly. "Lily?"

"Y/n, please tell me you'll do it," she implored, hope shining in her eyes.

"I don't want to…" I began, but a flicker of despair crossed Lily's face. "But since you're my best friend, I'll do it." With those words, Lily engulfed me in a grateful hug before darting off, leaving me leaning against the wall, exhaling a breath. How could I possibly distract James and his friends during the annual dance?

Walking through the hallways, my gaze trailed over the paintings adorning the walls, the laughter of boys growing louder as I approached. A group of four boys huddled together caught my attention, their animated conversation drawing me closer. With a gentle smile, I addressed them, "What mischief are you boys planning?"

Startled by my voice, they turned to face me, and James, with his signature grin, replied, "Nothing of importance, love."

Despite his nonchalant demeanor, I couldn't help but notice the glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Attempting to decipher the enigma that was James Potter, I met his gaze with an arched brow before relenting with a soft chuckle. "Have you all secured dates for the ball?"

A silent exchange passed between the boys before Sirius spoke up, mentioning their decision to attend as a friend group. As I observed their camaraderie, an idea sparked in my mind. As their voices filled the air, an idea began to take shape in the recesses of my mind. With a casual farewell, I left them to their conspiracies, my thoughts consumed by the intricacies of the plan that was slowly coalescing in my mind.

Earlier that day, amidst the hustle and bustle of preparations for the upcoming dance, I had meticulously finalized the details of my scheme. Now, as I surveyed the bustling Great Hall, the fruits of my labor began to unfold before me. The rumors I had carefully planted had taken root, spreading like wildfire through the throngs of eager students. Lily's sudden appearance beside me made me jump, her proud grin at her successful execution earned her a giggle.

As we exchanged a few brief words, her mention of James sparked a momentary pang of jealousy within me. Why was I fixated on him? Pushing aside the fleeting envy, I reassured her of my commitment to the plan, our shared excitement for the evening's festivities eclipsing any lingering apprehension.

The day of the ball dawned bright and clear, the air alive with anticipation. Stepping into our shared room, I marveled at the array of dresses adorning the walls, each one a testament to the unique personality of its owner. After assisting my roommates with their hair and makeup, it was finally my turn to prepare for the evening ahead.

Stepping into the Great Hall, I marveled at the sight before me. Each girl's dress exuded elegance and charm, a kaleidoscope of colors and styles. Each girl's dress exuded elegance and charm, a reflection of their individuality. I observed the crowd, noting a few restless figures anxiously awaiting someone. Smirking at the scene, I positioned myself strategically, awaiting the unfolding of our plan.

As the marauders made their entrance, I couldn't contain my amusement at their stunned expressions. With James reluctantly pushed toward the girls, I watched as Remus stumbled, a comical mishap that elicited laughter. Amidst the chaos, James' eyes found mine, his goofy smile prompting a giggle. As the girls surrounded them, vying for their attention, I approached James, a glint of mischief in my eyes.

Approaching James, I reached out and lightly rested my hand on his shoulder, the subtle glimmer of my acrylic nails catching the light as I trailed my fingers down to his chest. Drawing nearer, our bodies aligned, chest to chest, as a charged energy passed between us. His gaze, intense and captivating, bore into mine, darkening with unspoken desire. Aware of the other girls vying for attention nearby, I glanced around briefly before feeling James gently tilt my chin, redirecting my focus back to him.

"Follow me," I whispered, his eyes laced with anticipation. Meeting his gaze once more, I found myself momentarily captivated by his lips before meeting his gaze once more. Without hesitation, I turned and gracefully led the way out of the room, sensing James' swift footsteps close behind, eager to follow.

Distract James: Success.

[the-forest-library]

The Pairing - Casey McQuiston

Slow Dance - Rainbow Rowell

The Break-Up Pact - Emma Lord

Last Seen Online - Lauren James

All's Fair in Love and War - Virginia Heath

A Shore Thing - Joanna Lowell

You Should Be So Lucky - Cat Sebastian

This Spells Love - Kate Robb

Where Are You, Echo Blue? - Hayley Krischer

My Antonia - Willa Cather

The Girl in Question - Tess Sharpe

The Only Light Left Burning - Erik J. Brown

Death at Morning House - Maureen Johnson

Hawkeye: Bishop Takes King - Ashley Poston

Across a Field of Starlight - Blue Delliquanti

Show Up and Vote - Ani DiFranco

A Product of Genetics and Day Drinking - Jess H. Gutierrez

The Hard Parts - Oksana Masters

Rage Becomes Her - Soraya Chemaly

The Genius of Judy - Rachelle Bergstein

Me Vs Brain - Hayley Morris

Forever Barbie - M.G. Lord

It's Not Hysteria - Karen Tang

The New Menopause - Mary Claire Haver

The Nervous System Reset - Jessica Maguire

The Modern Trauma Toolkit - Christy Gibson

Small Talk - Richard Pink

Girls Just Wanna Have Funds - Emma Due Bitz

Please Unsubscribe, Thanks! - Julio Vincent Gambit

Work Won't Love You Back - Sarah Jaffe

The Tree Collectors - Amy Stewart

Cowpuppy - Gregory Berns

Bold = Highly Recommend

Italics = Worth It

Crossed Out = Nope

Thoughts:  Unfortunately this month was marked by some disappointments (eagerly anticipated reads: Slow Dance, Last Seen Online) and (sequels to books I loved: The Girl in Question, The Only Light Left Burning), but The Pairing restored my faith in Casey McQuiston and left me desperate for a European food and wine tour.

Goodreads Goal: 289/300 2017 Reads | 2018 Reads | 2019 Reads | 2020 Reads | 2021 Reads| 2022 Reads | 2023 Reads | 2024 Reads

[immediatebreakfast]

"Knowledge is power" you say and I believe it's becoming a big theme. Jonathan is sinking his nails into his sanity, vehemently refusing to lose it because losing himself (to insanity, to vampirism) is a horror greater than death to him. And his main weapon in this is to refuse to be in the dark. He must know the truth, instead of flee from it or deny it, gortesque even if it proves to be. The Castle is claiming his mind and his response is to explore every nook and cranny until he knows the enemy like he knows himself.

It's really a very noticeable theme, and it's one of the key parts that will help our characters against Dracula in the long run.

I have to make the comparison with another genre of book across the literary globe that have knowledge as a central theme.

The Lovecraft myths with their eldritch abominations also have the central theme of knowledge, but instead of presenting said knowledge as something hopeful to have (even if in the grand scheme of the universe is empty) knowledge is a curse. It's something that once the characters have, they wish to go back to their ignorance, all of the undescribed horrors that tell of incomprensible beings from beyond our stars open a new horrifying reality for these characters, one that they do not wish to understand.

Instead, here in Dracula, this novel regards knowledge as a precious weapon.

Jonathan understands that as a lawyer, and as a human being. Knowledge can help him understand, the written truth assures him that he is not imagining things. The broken door tells Jonathan, "Yes what happened was real, and you survived." And it gives him mental strenght to go another day.

Jonathan is feeling how his sanity is slipping from his fingers thanks to the castle, thanks to Dracula himself, so he must grab every piece of truth that he can find. Jonathan must know the Count's truth so he can act accordingly, he must know Dracula as if Dracula was him because it's the only way for him to know that he is still sane. That this knowledge can help whoever comes after him.

A really neat quote that I stumbled upon while searching for this really captured Jonathan's future, even if he might not be alive at the end of his journey.

"She will reenter the world carrying a heaviness she might never lay down, but also with something warm and steady burning in her, the knowledge of what she has survived, what she has become." - Chakraborty, A. (2021). Ode to the Gothic Heroine (A Selection).

Jonathan now carries the burden of knowledge regarding every oddity, and danger that Dracula presents from an outside perspective. Different, but not really from the ancient knowledge of the kind locals who tried to protect him from his fate, yet Jonathan doesn't shy away from that burden.

Knowledge is power, and power transforms the person into something not anticipated. It's the proof, and the reassurance of having something that can help, a little light in the middle of an endless cave. Jonathan is taking all of the information he can find, so that maybe he can transform the idea of escaping into something plausible.

Is Jonathan risking his own life by doing this? Of course he is! He is terrified of the outcome, of what the uncertain future holds for him! But, Jonathan is also gaining time. Moreover, with Dracula's new assigned "span of life", the Count has given Jonathan one of the most powerful weapons in the hands of a human, hope.

Now with the certain date of his possible, Jonathan can stop giving enough of a fuck about any pretenses of leaving the castle by the mercy of Dracula. Now Jonathan can hope to carve his escape with his own hands.

[boobo13cambridge]

Drifting Apart I | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Angst, physical violence (Y/N slaps him)

Summary: Y/N and Kylian’s relationship is crumbling as they navigate the most difficult moments of their lives. Will they stay or fall apart due to the pressure?

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is the first time I’ve ever written angst, so I really hope you guys give it much love. As always don’t forget to like, comment, and repost! Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

Tired.

Exhausted.

Drained.

Three words that fully encompassed her emotions as she finally put the triplets to sleep after a long day of cleaning up dirty diapers and writing a thesis. Y/N felt close to tears as she felt overwhelming guilt for being worn out at taking care of her babies when she loved them with all her heart. To make matters worse, she and Kylian had been getting into a lot of arguments lately. She knew how important and stressful this year was for him, and in the back of her mind, she wished that they had waited a bit more before having kids.

After getting married in the summer of 2021, the young couple wanted to enjoy a few years together before starting a family. Getting married so young, at the ripe age of 20 and 22, came as quite a shock to some (which in her eyes didn't make sense because a lot of footballers had kids even younger), but they were in love, and despite their parents' skepticism, they tied the knot on July 12, 2021.

Fast forward a year, and Y/N found herself staring at the two dark lines indicating that she's pregnant. Getting pregnant a few months before the 2022 World Cup was definitely not part of the plan, but with the support of their families, they made it through somehow. Throughout her whole pregnancy, Kylian was the best husband any woman could ever ask for, always so attentive and understanding of her every need. When they found out they were having triplets, and all boys at that, Y/N almost had a mental breakdown because she could never in a million years understand how she could ever be a mom to one kid, let alone three. It took Kylian, her mom, and two nurses and a doctor to calm her down.

And needless to say, the triplets, or as Kylian loves to call them 'his perfect hat-trick,' were born on December 4, 2022, right when Kylian had scored two goals to qualify France for the quarter-finals. In all honesty, she really wished she could have just given birth in Doha, but she was under strict surveillance and wasn't allowed to travel. Needless to say, in the moment, she was quite happy that she was having a c-section instead of a normal birth but regretted that soon after as it took way longer to recover. Kylian was definitely devastated to have missed his sons' birth and was this close to booking a flight back to Paris. It took Marcus and Ousmane to calm him down and talk him out of it.

A couple of days after that, France lost the World Cup, which absolutely broke her heart, but she was happy that her husband would be by her side. Post-World Cup, Kylian Mbappé was a very attentive father and husband, but she knew how much the loss had affected him and tried her best to cheer him up. She was secretly glad he had injured himself because he would finally get a break from playing with such a shitty team. Now, back to the present, May 28th, 2024, Post-Transfer Kylian Mbappé was moody and had a frown permanently etched on his forehead.

Once again, she tried to understand, knowing he had so much pressure on his shoulders from transferring to Real Madrid. He was Kylian Mbappé, the current greatest footballer, and people never gave him a break, always demanding perfection every match. He had a huge burden to carry, with the fans pointing out every little mistake he made on the pitch. The Madridistas had long anticipated his transfer, and they were out for blood. If the fans were demanding, then Kylian was even more demanding of himself. It was like living with the shadow of her husband. Gone was the sweet man who would make her breakfast in bed and massage her feet. In his place was someone who only had one thing on his mind: winning everything.

La Liga, Copa del Rey, Supercopa de España, UEFA Champions League, Euros, Summer Olympic Games.

She was going crazy just thinking about it. Lately, it was as if the only thing on his mind was trophies, and she couldn't stand it. The day before the La Liga final, which was held at the Bernabeu just two days ago, Kylian had once again started an argument just because she told him that she was tired of putting his dirty clothes in the laundry and that he should do it himself. The argument was so bad that she didn't even want to be there at the last match of the La Liga season, but on the day of the match, Kylian had profusely apologized and begged, so she forgave him and came to see him lift the trophy. This morning, Kylian had woken up in a foul mood and just seemed to want to be an absolute dickhead. He nitpicked at everything she did before leaving for practice, loudly complaining that she had put too much protein powder in his shake.

The whole day, she tried to text him and call him, but he was ignoring her calls. She had had enough; she couldn't deal with it anymore. Time and time again, she had tried to be understanding, swallowing and smiling through every single complaint and whine he let out. So what if he had his first Champions League final with his new club in three days? She didn't deserve to be treated like such a nuisance.

As she went to the kitchen to grab something to drink, she broke down into sobs. It was too much. She hated feeling like she wasn't enough. Kylian hadn't kissed her, much less said, "I love you," before storming out. For months, all he did was complain, complain, and complain.

The young woman heard the door open and close, instantly recognizing her lover's footsteps. She tried to muffle her sobs so he wouldn't hear, but she forgot that the kitchen lights were on.

Kylian walked right through the archway leading to the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he saw her teary face, instantly feeling guilty. He knew he had been treating her horribly these past few months and that he should stop, but he had been so stressed with everything that he took it all out on the love of his life and the mother of his children.

"Bébé, are you okay?" he asked slowly, approaching her and trying to wipe her tears, but she moved back. Her action pained him because he realized how much of a jerk he had been.

"What do you think? Do I look like I'm okay?" she snapped at him, wiping the tears with the back of her hand, her voice filled with frustration.

"I'm sorry, my love. I've been such an ass-" he said apologetically.

"Yes, you have! You have no idea what I've been going through because of you!" she replied angrily, her tone laced with resentment.

"Bébé, you have no idea how sor-" he tried to explain, but she cut him off.

"Save your fucking apologies, Kylian! I don't fucking care anymore. You've made me feel like the biggest piece of shit these past few months," she spat out, her words filled with bitterness.

"You know how stressed I've been with the transfer and-" he started to defend himself, but she interrupted him.

"AND SO YOU DECIDED TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME WHEN I-" she yelled, her tone conveying a mixture of anger and hurt.

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN GOING THROUGH WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE PUSHING THEIR EXPECTATIONS ON ME WHILE YOU SIT AT HOME-" he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

"SIT AT HOME? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU EVEN DO THE WHOLE DAY EXCEPT KICK A FUCKING BALL AROUND WHILE I TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS, CLEAN THE HOUSE, COOK FOOD, WRITE MY FUCKING THESIS, WHICH YOU NEVER EVEN BOTHER ASKING ABOUT BECAUSE OF COURSE THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD TURNS AROUND MR. HOTSHOT HIMSELF!"

"KICK A BALL AROUND ALL DAY? ME DOING THAT IS THE ONLY REASON WHY YOU SPEND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS BUYING USELESS SHIT-" 

"I USE MY OWN MONEY TO BUY SHIT, YOU DICKHEAD! AND THE ONLY USELESS SHIT I BUY WITH YOUR MONEY IS CLOTHES AND FOOD FOR THE CHILDREN YOU KNOCKED ME UP RIGHT AFTER I GRADUATED! I'VE SACRIFICED SO MUCH FOR YOU-" 

"SACRIFICED?! WHAT HAVE YOU SACRIFICED FOR ME, HUH? STOP ACTING LIKE I KNOCKED YOU UP WHEN YOU WERE MORE THAN WILLING TO SPREAD YOUR LEGS FOR ME!" 

SLAP.

The sound reverberated through the kitchen, accompanied by a sharp sting on Kylian's cheek. Pain radiated through his face, mingling with the shock that coursed through his veins. His hand instinctively reached up to cradle his burning cheek, his eyes widening in disbelief. The room seemed to spin as he struggled to comprehend what had just transpired.

Y/N's expression mirrored his own disbelief, her eyes wide with horror at the consequences of her actions. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the remorse that consumed her. She trembled, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what she had done. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, where the line between love and anger blurred into a haze of anguish.

"Kylian, I'm so sorry," she choked out, her voice quivering with remorse. Each word dripped with the weight of her regret, desperate to erase the irreversible damage she had caused.

His throat tightened, a turbulent mix of emotions swirling within him. The pain on his cheek competed with the anger that burned in his chest. He fought to find his voice, to process the torrent of thoughts that assailed his mind. The apology hung in the air, suspended between them, as he grappled with conflicting impulses.

Gulping down the lump in his throat, Kylian felt the anger surge within him, fueled by his own frustrations and insecurities. The relentless stress, anxiety, and guilt that had plagued him clawed their way to the surface, intertwining with the raw ache on his cheek. It was a toxic concoction that threatened to consume him, driving him to respond with his own fury.

But beneath the anger, a part of him acknowledged his own culpability. He was not blameless in this dance of discord. The weight of his actions pressed upon his conscience, intertwining with the pain on his cheek. The realization of his own flaws clashed with the indignation that simmered in his veins.

In that moment, Kylian made a choice. A choice to channel the anger, the hurt, and the guilt into something different. Instead of lashing out, he took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of self-control. The anger flickered in his eyes, but he suppressed it, focusing on the vulnerability before him.

He approached Y/N slowly, his steps cautious and deliberate. His hand reached out, hesitantly, aiming to wipe away her tears, but she flinched, pulling back as if his touch were a reminder of her own transgressions. The ache in his heart matched the pain on his cheek, the longing to bridge the chasm that had formed between them.

Words hung unspoken, heavy with unexpressed emotions. They both knew that apologies alone were not enough to heal the wounds they had inflicted upon each other. The room remained steeped in anguished silence, punctuated only by the echoes of their shattered love.

As the weight of the moment settled upon them, Kylian and Y/N stood at a crossroads. A crossroads where anger and remorse converged, where past mistakes collided with uncertain futures. The path forward was shrouded in shadows, their once-solid foundation crumbling beneath the weight of their anguished hearts.

Time seemed to stand still in the wake of their confrontation, the air heavy with unspoken words and shattered expectations. The kitchen, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and intimate conversations, now felt like a battlefield, scarred by the aftermath of their verbal warfare. 

Kylian's gaze never wavered from Y/N, his eyes tracing the contours of her tear-streaked face. He longed to bridge the distance between them, to mend the rift that had widened with each bitter exchange. The ache in his heart intensified, a poignant reminder of the love that had once bound them together.

Y/N's body trembled with a mix of regret, fear, and a longing for reconciliation. The weight of her actions bore down on her, leaving her feeling small and vulnerable. She yearned for solace, for the reassurance that their love could withstand the tempestuous storm that raged within them.

With measured steps, Kylian closed the physical gap between them, his heart pounding with a mixture of trepidation and determination. He reached out once again, his hand hovering in the space between them, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, caught in the crosscurrents of conflicting emotions. Her gaze met Kylian's, searching for a glimmer of the man she had fallen in love with—the man who had once cherished her and their family above all else. Slowly, tentatively, she extended her trembling hand, allowing their fingers to intertwine, a fragile connection in the face of their shattered trust.

In that delicate touch, an unspoken promise lingered. It whispered of their shared history, the moments of tenderness and joy that had been eclipsed by their recent turbulence. It spoke of a willingness to rebuild, to confront their flaws and the demons that haunted them.

The silence, once heavy with resentment, now became a sacred space for introspection and reflection. The unspoken words hung in the air, their weight acknowledged by both parties. It was a moment of surrender, a recognition that love could not thrive in the absence of vulnerability and forgiveness.

However, despite their fragile moment of reconciliation, the scars of their previous altercation still festered beneath the surface. The guilt and anger that plagued them now resided like smoldering embers, waiting for the slightest breeze to ignite their fury once more.

The following morning, the house was shrouded in an uneasy silence. Kylian moved cautiously, as if walking on eggshells, acutely aware of the tension that lingered in the air. Y/N, her face etched with traces of weariness and apprehension, busied herself in the kitchen, desperately trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass pierced the fragile peace. Kylian's hand trembled as he gazed at the broken fragments scattered across the floor, his breath catching in his throat. The weight of his mistake crashed down upon him, triggering a surge of self-loathing.

Before Kylian could even react, Y/N's voice lashed out, sharp and cutting. "Kylian, how many times have I told you to be careful? You never pay attention to anything!" Her words dripped with frustration, a reflection of her own mounting resentment.

His heart sank, a mixture of shame and frustration swirling within him. The bitterness that had consumed him since their previous argument threatened to overflow. He could no longer bear the weight of his guilt and his bruised pride.

The room seemed to close in on them as Kylian's retort hung heavily in the air, each word a dagger aimed at Y/N's wounded heart. "Oh, what now? Are you going to slap me again, Y/N?"

The accusation cut through the air, leaving a palpable silence in its wake. Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief and hurt, her body trembling with a mixture of shock and anger. The triplets, sensing the rising tension, began to cry, their innocent wails intermingling with the growing storm of emotions.

Y/N's voice quivered as she fought back tears, her voice heavy with a mixture of sorrow and indignation. "How dare you say that, Kylian? I never wanted to hurt you, and you know it!"

The room trembled with their voices, each word a dagger aimed to wound, tearing at the fabric of their fragile bond. Kylian's face contorted with anger, his voice laced with a bitterness he could no longer contain. "Of course you never wanted to hurt me, right? You've done such a fantastic job so far!" Kylian spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Complaining and nagging every fucking day like I don’t already have enough of that every time I open social media"

Y/N's eyes filled with tears, a mixture of pain and disbelief etched on her face. She struggled to find her voice, to make sense of the torrent of emotions crashing over her. "I'm trying, Kylian. I'm trying so hard to hold us together, to be there for you and the kids. But it feels like nothing I do is ever enough!"

He scoffed, the bitterness in his voice turning his words into venom. "You? Trying hard? Don't make me laugh! All you do is complain and criticize. You're so quick to point out my faults, but what about your own? Or do you think you're perfect?"

Y/N's voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt. "I never claimed to be perfect, Kylian. But I've given up so much for you, for our family. I've sacrificed my dreams and aspirations to support you, only to be constantly belittled and dismissed!"

Kylian's eyes blazed with fury, his fists clenched at his sides. "Oh, so now it's all about your sacrifices, is it? What about mine? What about the pressure I face every single day, the weight of expectations on my shoulders?"

Their words collided in the air, their voices filled with resentment and unspoken pain. The triplets' cries grew louder, their innocence caught in the crossfire of their parents' anguish.

Unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, Kylian turned on his heels, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't have time for this. I have a plane to catch, a team to lead. Maybe being away from you for a while will do us both some good."

As he stormed out of the house, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Y/N standing in a sea of shattered hopes and shattered glass. The anguished cries of their children echoed through the empty rooms, a haunting reminder of the fractures in their once-unbreakable bond.

In that moment, as the gravity of their fight settled upon them, both Kylian and Y/N were left with a hollow ache in their hearts, each tormented by their own regrets and the uncertain path that lay before them.

[pers-books]

Lesbians in Space: The Anthology (Where No Man Has Gone Before)

Booktopia 2024 📚#Fantasy#Indie#Sci-Fi

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You've asked for it, so Space Wizard provides. Here is the long-anticipated Lesbians In Space Anthology!

Space Wizard Science Fantasy!

Space Wizard Science Fantasy is a queer science fiction and fantasy indie publishing company which opened its doors in 2021 to publishing outside authors. - In 2022, the Space Wizard Science Fantasy Year 1 campaign raised nearly $18,000 to pay authors top rates, create amazing book covers, fund an audiobook recording, and publish 12 books between June 2022 and June 2023. - In 2023, Year 2 raised over $18,000 for 12 more books released from June 2023 to June 2024 with more excellent covers, custom illustrations, and pro rates for our anthology writers! This year we added exclusive collector's hardbacks! - In 2024, Year 3 just concluded in July with another $17,250 raised for for 13 books, one omnibus, and 2 TTRPGs!

We're back again this September for one more anthology, this time with a bunch of incredible authors participating in Booktopia. Lesbians in Space has a stellar (ha!) lineup of writers already on board, including (in order of confirmation):

- Seanan McGuire, multiple Hugo Award-winning author of the Wayward Children series, the October Daye series, and the Incryptid series!

- Travis Baldree, author of Legends and Lattes, shortlisted for the Hugo Award for best novel in 2023, as well as exceptional audiobook narrator!

- Emma Newman, Hugo Award-winning podcaster and author of the Planetfall series, which was shortlisted for the Best Series Hugo Award in 2020!

- Mary Robinette Kowal. Hugo Award-winner Mary Robinette Kowal has written: The Spare Man, The Glamourist Histories series, Ghost Talkers, the Lady Astronaut Universe, and many short stories.

Also see our "writers" section below for our current roster, and for how you can submit your story!

Lesbians in Space: Where No Man Has Gone Before

Peanut butter and chocolate. Cheese and wine. Sex and rock n’ roll. History is full of great pairings.

Get ready for the next great one: Lesbians and Space! Join a host of intrepid explorers heading to the outer reaches of the galaxy, exploring planets, space stations, strange new worlds and interesting aliens. Focusing on lesbian / sapphic protagonists, this anthology will contain works from numerous established, award-winning, and lesfic authors, and a few new faces as well.

We have an amazing cover already created by Serene Chia, and we have a bunch of great addons and gifts for you as well! This anthology is going to be packed with fully-inclusive, sapphic stories about space, space opera, science fiction, exploration, adventure, and of course, romance. The stories will have representation of all sorts, including cis, trans, bi, sapphic, non-binary, ace, aro, and many other types. There's lots of room for Lesbians in Space!

We have our invited group of writers already working on stories for the anthology, but we're opening up to any and all submissions as well! So if you're a writer, polish off your best story about Lesbians in Space, and send it in!

Are you a writer? Do you like Lesbians in Space? We will be holding juried selections for more stories for the Lesbians in Space anthology. To enter, simply polish off your writing skills and craft a story of around 2000-4500 words, but definitely not over 6000.

This anthology will focus on lesbian relationships of all types, including cis, bi/pan, ace, non-binary, intersex, trans, and others that fall under the ‘sapphic’ banner as long as the primary pairing is lesbian. Give us your best story featuring sapphic protagonists at least partially located in space. This could be on a spaceship, with magic, on a planet or asteroid, in another dimension or realm, or any other connected idea. Surprise us!

Stories will be juried and final selections will be made (hopefully) by end of January 2025. Projected publish date is June 2025. Selected authors will be compensated at semi-pro rates or higher. Send your completed story in by midnight EST, December 31st, 2024 using the instructions at https://www.spacewizardsciencefantasy.com/submissions We are hoping to publish Lesbians in Space around June 2025.

-- I've just backed this as it looks absolutely fabulous!

[agreatperhaps12]

I have just stayed up all night reading your aftg fanfic and I would just like you to know that I will be mourning the finishing of them for the rest of the month and possibly year. I was absolutely astounded by how well and deeply you understood these characters. Every other line felt like a gift to me personally. Thank you.

Aw, thank you so much for saying that! I haven't read the books or any AFTG fic for a while, so I'm not sure how in character this is any more, but I recently got back into fic writing to work on an ATLA story, and found this half-draft of a AFTG listfic I was writing in 2021. Anyway! Again, 2024!Maria can't really vouch for fidelity but here are some AFTG head canons from 2021!Maria as a thank you <3

Things Andrew Minyard knows about touching Neil Josten

1. “Is this okay?” and “This is okay, right?” are not the same question.

The first is how Neil asks permission. Is it okay to peel off Andrew’s shirt? To nose at the hollow of Andrew’s throat? To explore his skin with hands that, for once, make Andrew’s stomach clench in anticipation rather than dread?

The second is how Neil seeks reassurance—something he lets slip only with his last shreds of self-control. This is okay, right? That Neil wants to touch Andrew? That Neil wants to be touched, too? That Neil likes it?

Andrew did not understand why, or how much, Neil needed that reassurance until a throwaway comment about a girl in Quebec—until Andrew’s insistent tugs on that loose thread unspooled a dozen other stories of Mary Hatford’s reactions to Neil looking at girls. 

If Neil notices that Andrew stops calling him out for staring after that, he does not mention it. 

Andrew should have seen the difference between the two questions sooner. He should have distinguished between the keen attentiveness of the first, and the uncertainty of the second. The evidence of some primal fear lurking in Neil’s mind, even now, that the price of pleasure will always be violence. 

Andrew, of all people, should have known. 

But Andrew, of all people, knows better than to dwell on should haves.

So, when Neil asks, “This is okay, right?” Andrew does not waste time on regret. He simply says, “This is good,” and kisses Neil soundly enough to make him believe it. 

2. Neil should not be shaken awake from nightmares. 

This, Andrew knew intuitively. Both because of his own nightmares and because he is not a fucking idiot. The same could not be said for Nicky—although, to Nicky’s credit, it took him only a single black eye to catch on. 

Aaron would argue that Andrew should have intervened after Neil’s first half-conscious swing. Andrew would argue that physically subduing Neil during a nightmare would require levels of stupidity that Andrew has only ever witnessed from Neil himself. 

Besides, touch is unnecessary to wake Neil up, when the word “Abram” startles him from sleep as well as any alarm. A response engrained, Andrew presumes, by years of midnight escapes. 

Neil still reaches for the nonexistent gun beneath his pillow each time. 

Once Neil is conscious, Andrew still does not reach for him. Instead, he waits for Neil’s gasping breaths to slow, and Neil’s eyes to find his in the dark. He waits for Neil to indicate what he wants—because the question of post-nightmare Neil wanting touch is not so much a yes or no as a when and how. 

Sometimes, resting a hand on Neil’s sweat-damp neck or open palm is enough to coax him back to sleep. Other times, Neil will not drift off until he is laid across the couch with the double distraction of muted Exy on TV and Andrew’s fingers in his hair. But discerning the best strategy on any given night is key—for Andrew’s sleep as much as Neil’s. 

3. There are several undeniable benefits of holding Neil’s hand. 

The first is that Neil has terrible circulation, and keeping Neil’s hands warm with his own prevents Andrew from being assaulted with ice-cold fingertips in the winter. 

The second is that Neil is addicted to motion. For all the shit he gives Andrew about fidgeting on airplanes, Neil is just like that. All the time. Tapping his foot or bouncing his knee or fiddling with Andrew’s keys. Holding Neil’s hand seems to relieve at least some of that anxious energy, like grounding an electrically charged object. 

It takes Andrew a while to come around on holding Neil’s hand in public. But once he does, he finds that this, too, can be strategically useful. Mostly because Neil is too goddamn pretty for his own oblivious good, and holding Neil’s hand spares Andrew having to watch some idiot at Eden’s limp through awkward flirtation with Neil before realizing how extremely taken he is—which, although amusing the first few times it happened, has well worn out its humor. 

Perhaps the most important reason to hold Neil’s hand, though—and the one Andrew would sooner skydive than admit aloud—is that if Neil gets overexcited about telling Andrew some Exy-related nonsense as they walk, he will start swinging their hands in time with his steps.

This must look even dumber than it feels—and it feels, Andrew cannot stress enough, profoundly dumb. But he allows it, because Neil Josten is many things, but carefree is not one of them. This childish gesture may be the closest he will ever get. And to see it is like witnessing some rare celestial event—except that Andrew alone has the power to dial the stars into alignment to make it happen.

4. Andrew’s position on the word “please” has not and will not change. But the first time Andrew’s touch draws a hot, heavy “bitte” from Neil’s lips, Andrew decides there may be at least one form of the word he could allow. 

5. Andrew does not spar with Neil. 

He did once, and there was a certain thrill to it. Hand-to-hand combat brought Andrew face-to-face, breath-to-breath with an electrifying tenacity that he typically only gets to observe from afar on the court. Neil’s reckless speed also posed a completely different kind of challenge than Renee’s ballet precision—which made it all the more satisfying to finish their session with Neil slumped in an exhausted heap at Andrew’s feet for the first time since Neil’s inaugural Fox practice.  

As Andrew led the way off the mat, limbs buzzing and blood beating in his ears, he thought: Yes. He could definitely get used to this. 

What Andrew could not get used to, it turned out, was ghosting his knuckles over the fresh bruises on Neil’s skin in the shower the next day.

Andrew knew, logically, that the marks should not bother him. Not least because Neil, for all his untrained clumsiness, had dealt Andrew a few new bruises of his own. 

And yet. 

“Perhaps seeing new injuries in the context of Neil’s existing scars reminded you of the violence that Neil has already endured, and made you reconsider your willingness to engage in violent activity with him even in a consensual and controlled setting,” Bee said, in that way she had of framing explanations as possibilities, even when she knew that Andrew knew that she was right. 

She was right. 

The thing is, Neil takes violence in stride like bad weather. Just one of life’s many unavoidable inconveniences, unworthy of concern until life-threatening, and Andrew—

Andrew fucking hates that. He wants no part of it. 

But he also wants Neil to have a better chance of defending himself the next time someone tries to stuff him into the trunk of a car. 

The answer lies, as it so often does, in Renee—who is more than happy to be Neil’s new sparring partner. Andrew told them both that he was pawning Neil off on her because she was a better fighter than Andrew (true) and a better teacher (also true). 

Neil, being Neil, probably saw right through those decoy truths. But, Neil being Neil, also accepted Andrew’s decision without question.

It’s better this way, with Andrew sitting on the sidelines of Neil’s sessions with Renee, occasionally stepping in to adjust Neil’s form, watching to make sure Neil’s eyes remain clear and present when Renee brings out the knives. It is a strange thing—and a strangely irritating thing, sometimes—to let someone else do for Neil what Andrew could so easily do himself. 

But later, when Andrew is lecturing Neil about icing his injuries, there is no question which side of those injuries Andrew would rather be on.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

For The Gold 🥇 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pilot/Olympian!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), slight Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Content warnings: fluff, mentions of injuries, slight profanity. Might be emotional for you so be warned| Gn!reader (They/them) | wc: 12k+

Premise: In which the 2019 TopGun Uranium detachment return to Fightertown to watch and cheer on their colleague & friend as they compete on the greatest sporting stage the world has ever seen for their last chance at Olympic glory.

Note: so I was an athlete growing up (I did gymnastics, soccer, and figure skating) and although I no longer pursue my dream of going to the Olympics (my biggest regret in life) I still get super excited when it comes around. It’s currently World Cup season & I’m hyperfixating to say the least on sports and now have these ideas of a professional athlete!reader works for the dagger squad. Let me know if you want more because I totally have ideas for other sports— especially the ones I played because I have more personal knowledge of them, but I LOVE watching the track and field and nearly went that path when I was a kid because I loved to run and was really fast (I played wing for soccer in high school and I always had people tell me I should’ve been on the track team instead). For this imagine, imagine you were born in 1990 so it would put you at age 30-31 in 2021 and just to be clear this is following the idea that the events of TGM took place in 2019 since the movie was supposed to come out around that time or 2020.

“Let’s freaking go!!!” Javy practically shouts as he claps his hands when entering The Hard Deck to a crowd of people and his friends. Eyes were already glued to the multiple TV screens Penny had set up with the help of regular patrons. There was a table filled with food set out, coolers of ice and beers donated by customers. The bar was buzzing with excitement with many sporting team USA gear and waving American flags. It was the early hours of the morning—literally 5 am and everyone in the building had slept the duration of the previous day in order to pull an all-nighter or had just woken up. They wanted to watch the event live and not the replay later that day due to the 17 hour time difference. News crews were there as well, hoping to catch everyone’s reaction.

The squad rolled their eyes at their colleague, but smiled nonetheless. They too were filled with anticipation. “How much time until their up?” Coyote asked, taking a beer before finding a place beside Hangman. The Dagger squad had arrived early to get good spots with Coyote being the last to arrive. Now there was hardly any space in some areas with the turn out. Civilians and servicemen swarmed every corner.

“About thirty or so minutes. They should be coming into the arena soon.”

Everyone from TopGun was there, including Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo, Maverick and the current aviators going through the TopGun program. Many of the former 2019 detachment had gone off to their old or new assignments, but as soon as the announcement of the team hit the news they were popping off in the group chat and booking flights to Fightertown.

So here they all were. All 12 of the special detachment that trained together for a high-risk uranium enrichment plant mission back again in the Hard Deck like the first night three ago. Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Halo, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale. They were only missing one person.

The person across the Pacific Ocean who was the reason they were together to cheer on from home, and would be going for the gold in one final run.

It was the first week of August, 2021. The Games of the XXXII Olympiad in Tokyo, Japan.

What should have been held the year prior, was postponed due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. Now after years of hard work & dedications, nearly 12 thousand athletes from 206 nations around the world were gathered for the greatest sports event in history.

17 days, 339 events in 33 sports. The gold medal on the line.

For Y/n L/n, this was the moment they’d been waiting for. At 31 years old, Y/n spent their entire childhood and adolescence dreaming of the day they would walk through the tunnel of an Olympic arena to represent the USA. From the moment they could walk the track became their life. Their parents were coaches at Vanderbilt University and were the contributing factor to them pursuing the sport. And at age six, Y/n sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium in the summer of 1996 where they witnessed with awe as Micheal Johnson won the gold for the USA in the Men’s 200m & 400m sprint and Carl Lewis defended his title of the long jump champion for four consecutive Olympics. Just days prior Y/n witnessed history for USA Gymnastics when the Magnificent 7 defeated Russia for the US’s first women’s All-Around team gold medal.

It was a memorable Games, held on home soil in the city of Atlanta and with many firsts and defenders.

It was the spark of a lifelong goal for the six year old in the stands.

Blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. From an early age Y/n loved to run. But sprinting was their passion. The 100m, 200m, & 400m became their sole focus.

Everyday, sometimes twice or three times Y/n was running drills and sprints. Their day would start with an early morning jog with their dad before the sun was even out, followed by breakfast before heading to the track. From there they would stretch, run drills, and conditioning. Then they would have an hour break for lunch before doing it all over again until dinner. The day would end with another cycle of drills and conditioning. Y/n would be out of breath, sweating, and sometimes in pain.

But they were determined. Like most athletes who dedicate their lives to the international level they became homeschooled and missed out on many things a typical child or teen would experience. Though Y/n had friends it was only a select few. There was hardly time for a social life and therefore it was hard for them to form connections. It wasn’t until they got into competitions did they begin making friends with fellow competitors.

At age 10 Y/n participated in their first meet. It was a let down, but not a total loss. Sure they didn’t win a medal but they didn’t come in last and that in itself was a win in their eyes. It just made them more determined to do better and the next season they delivered by claiming a regional title. As years went by regionals became state titles and soon Y/n was a national champion at age 16. That winning season had brands reaching out to sponsor the teen, but if they were to also take a chance at an NCAA title in college then sponsorships were gonna have to wait.

2008 was the year to remember. Y/n had attended their first World Championships and although they didn’t win gold, they took the bronze and became a likely contender to make the Olympic team in the upcoming trials. They had just graduated with their diploma and had accepted a full ride to Vanderbilt University as part of their track team. What came as a big surprise to their parents was Y/n would not just be getting their degree and competing for the college team, they would also be doing the Naval ROTC program.

Unbeknownst to their family, Y/n was drawn to the world of aviation. Their grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and would tell them stories of what it was like in the air. He even had a cool callsign, ‘Viper,’ and taught at the Navy’s prestigious school for pilots. When Y/n was a child, he would take them to the air shows and teach them all about the maneuvers they were doing and even brought them to TopGun. They were in awe as he would explain all the gadgets and weapons of the F-14.

Yes, track and the Olympics was their life, but something was calling them to the skies.

“Honey, where did this come from? You never talked about joining the Navy before,” their mother said with confusion at the dinner table when Y/n explained their upcoming schedule. “If you make the team this summer I hope you’re not planning for this to be your only games. You’re so young and could easily go again for London and the 2016 games.”

“That’s still the plan, mom,” Y/n sighed, “But you remember all those stories grandpa would tell me about his pilot days? I want to do something more in case this doesn’t work out—have a backup plan per say. What if I tear my hamstring or something happens that I have to retire?” It wasn’t something they liked to think about, but with being an athlete the next meet is never guaranteed. Injuries are common—especially torn ACLs and hamstrings. Y/n had other passions besides track and wanted something there for if the worst happened.

“Y/n, if you do two years of their program you have to decide whether to commit or not and you’ll likely be commissioned when you graduate,” their father pointed out, “That means you’ll have new priorities and if you're serious about flight school that is going to cut time off the track. London is possible given it will be your last year in college—maybe we can pull some strings and have your commission pushed back if you make the team—-but I don’t think 2016 would be. You’re talking balancing a career as a Naval officer and professional athlete. That’s a lot to take on—physically and mentally.”

He had a point and Y/n knew it. London was in four years and definitely possible even if they fail to make the Beijing team. The location of 2016 had yet to be decided, but with the timing it would put Y/n four years into a possible Navy career.

Still they were wanted to make both work.

An Olympic champion and a fighter pilot.

First they had to get through 2008 and boy was it a year to remember. It fulfilled one half of the Olympic dream for Y/n: making the team and competing on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Tears streamed down their face as they embraced their parents following the end of the trials. It was a hell of a trials with Y/n competing against some of the best track stars in the country. They were completely starstruck when Allison Felix congratulated them following the announcement, Y/n remembered watching her four years prior in Athens for her Olympic debut and thought, ‘I really hope we’re teammates in Beijing.’

Unfortunately, a gold medal was not in store for the athlete. Of the three events; 100m, 200m, & 400m, Y/n only qualified for the 200m & 400m after finishing in the top two of their heat. The night of the 200m finals was a saddening with Y/n finishing fourth, just shy of a medal, but the Games were not a total loss when days later an Olympic bronze medal was placed around their neck and the American Flag rose alongside Great Britain and Jamaica’s.

And so the next four years of training for London—with Rio De Janeiro in 2016 looming around the corner—began the second they touched back on U.S soil. On top it was the pressure of securing NCAA titles not to mention A’s & B’s in their classes, while also getting through one of the top collegiate ranked NROTC programs.

It was a lot. And Y/n became burnt out at times. They had already set their name in record books at the national level, now it was time to amp up the game on the international and college level. A bronze medal would not satisfy Y/n, gold was the goal.

It all paid off by the time 2012 arrived. With a few more national titles under their belt and a World Championship in the 400m, Y/n was the talk for a gold among commentators. At the end of their collegiate career they secured several titles in their three events and managed to come out with a 3.8 cumulative GPA. In regards to the NROTC Y/n committed to the program after their second year and was set to commission that summer. The trials were around the same time as what would have been the ceremony, but after several meetings they allowed it to be postponed until after the trials. It would be some time before Y/n would be assigned an OTS due to the path they were taking with flight school and therefore it would likely not interfere with the upcoming Olympics. “Bring home the gold for us,” the officer shook their hand at the end. It filled them with nerves, but mostly perseverance, “I plan to.”

The trials were a success once again with Y/n having the honor to call themselves a two-time Olympian. The five colored rings were tattooed on their bicep, something they did immediately after Beijing that often resulted in being recognized in public, and gold was in their mind. After qualifying for all three events and earning a place on the 4x100 relay, Y/n had four chances at the gold: 3 individual and 1 team.

It was a silver lining moment in all three individual events. After failing to qualify for the 100m finals in Beijing, Y/n pulled a show stopping finish in the last heat earning them a place in the final. It was the most heat pumping 10 seconds of their life that happened in the blink of an eye. Before they knew it they were on the podium with a silver medal and the same would follow in the 200m and 400m. At the end of the 400m ceremony they were bombarded by reporters with the same question, “Y/n, what a run tonight, congratulations again this is your third medal in these games and it seems to be a silver lining moment for you. What are your thoughts?”

Still coming off the emotion from winning their fourth Olympic medal, a privilege not many could say, Y/n smiled wide, “It’s amazing really, you know I took the bronze four years ago in this event and I’m so grateful to come out with another medal—this time being silver. I couldn’t believe Monday night when I took the silver in the 100m—just making it to the finals after not qualifying in Beijing was an accomplishment and same goes for taking second in the 200m. I want to thank my parents, who are also my coaches and have been with me on this journey since the beginning. I’m just so blessed and filled with happiness tonight—I could not have done this without them.”

“You still have a chance at the gold in Wednesday’s relay. How are you feeling about that? What can we expect by the team?”

“We have such an amazing group for the relay, I’m so honored I get to represent the United States alongside them. Every one of us have worked so hard to be here and have really put our blood, sweat, and tears. Hopefully bring home the gold—I know each of us are going to give it our best.”

Y/n’s publicist from the side was signaling for them to hurry up, “One last question before you go,” the reporter quickly said. “For the people at home who have been cheering you on these past four years, can we expect you to return for Rio? I know you could very well take the gold in the relay, but are you hoping to try for an individual in the future?” This was the question Y/n had been preparing for the entire games. Having managed to keep their NROTC program hidden from the media, it troubled Y/n to reveal they would be a Navy officer by the end of the summer. It wasn’t odd for active duty members to be athletes, there were plenty who participated in the games every four years. It would just be difficult given the career path they chose and having to get all the paperwork filed for time off around meets and international competitions.

After a moment of thinking, they finally answered, “I’m very lucky I get to say I competed in these games twice now. I’m twenty-two now and will be twenty-six by the time Rio comes around—not to mention I start flight school pretty soon,” there was immediate surprise by the reporter, but Y/n continued and was quick to finish with. “I’m gonna work hard as I always do and hopefully Rio is in the cards for me. But to give a yes or no imma just say yes, that is the plan.”

Before the reporter could question the topic of flight school, Y/n was already saying goodbye and letting their publicist pull them away. The relay was in two days and was their last chance at winning a gold for the London games. Of course, Y/n was hopeful they would make the Rio team for the sake of winning an individual gold medal. There would no doubt be glory and honor if they were to win the relay, but it had been their dream since childhood to stand on the podium with a gold around their neck for one of their events.

The relay was all they ever dreamed of. A strong group with Y/n leading the first leg before handing it off, giving their teammate a great start to pull a lead against the other nations. As they were walking back to the start, their heart was racing and not just from the adrenaline…but by their teammate being the first to cross the finish line. Then there was the sound of the announcer amongst the roaring crowd, “WORLD RECORD!!!” with the USA appearing beside the #1 spot.

Y/n was screaming before they could stop themselves, “Oh my god!!” knees hit the track as they sank to the ground. They couldn’t even hear themselves by the cheers. It was a spectacular moment with Y/n pulling themselves up to run and embrace their teammates and share the glory they just made. Not only were they Olympic champions but also World Record holders of the 4x100m relay.

“The United States has taken the gold here today in the 4x100m relay and a new world record has been set thanks to the extraordinary start by Y/n L/n.” “This relay group gave it their all today, John. It was such a close call coming around on the third leg, but the Americans pulled through for a stunning finish for Olympic gold.”

With an American flag in their hand, Y/n joined their teammates beside the record projection. They were teary eyed, but held off from crying because they knew the emotion would come full heartedly on the podium. And boy did it come. The second the national anthem was playing, the first tear fell from Y/n’s eyes. The medal was heavy around their neck, but it was a reminder that they achieved the goal they set out when they were six years old.

Olympic champion.

And they got to share it with their teammates—an immense honor they would cherish till the end of time.

Y/n could barely remember all that happened following the podium ceremony. After a celebration with their parents and best friend, who flew all the way out to London to support them, they had no more events and got to rest for the remainder of the games. Closing ceremonies were spectacular. One of Y/n’s favorite moments from the Beijing games was getting to mingle with athletes from the other nations during the closing ceremonies. This time around Y/n was speechless as they got to see a Spice Girls reunion and One Direction perform.

Life became chaotic to say the least following the return from London. After winning four medals including a gold, Y/n was asked by several talk show hosts to appear for an interview. They accepted a few and were immediately bombarded with questions about the little detail they slipped after winning the silver in the 400m. “You made it known to the world that you’ll be going to flight school, was it? What can you tell us about that?”

“Well during my time at Vanderbilt, where I competed for them in the NCAA—which can I say, It’s a completely different ball field when your parents are not only your coaches for international competitions but also college meets. The energy is different, especially because they’ve been there for almost two decades now and are the definition of school spirit. Anyways, while I was there I also took the route of doing their Navy ROTC program. My grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and pretty much became my inspiration for wanting to fly—on top of being an athlete. It was something I thought long and hard about. I wasn’t sure if I would even make the London team and of course anything can happen, but I knew I wanted to go to fight school back when I competed in 2008. I actually will be commissioning once I’m done with all this post-Olympic press.”

The ceremony was a bittersweet moment. With their friends and family around them, Y/n was pinned on with the ranks of Ensign and named an officer of the United States Navy. From there were the challenges of balancing a career as both a professional athlete and naval aviator. Often were days of bad mental health and aches after overexertion. OTS & Flight school was intense but shaped Y/n in many ways. The first day they were recognized by a classmate resulting in the callsign, “Olympian,” after everyone would say, “Hey, Olympian!” when calling out to them after two straight days.

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/n chuckled after their parents were like, ‘really?’ when they told them. “I mean it could have been something like ‘Short-track,’ or ‘Goldilocks,’ if they thought about it. If I fucked up doing something then they would’ve named me something related to it. I’ll take Olympian cause that’s what I am.”

After completing flight school and receiving their first duty station, Y/n made the decision to hire a new coach. The World Championships were coming up and they did not want to uproot their parents while they were still the head coaches at Vanderbilt. At first they protested, but eventually relented on the condition that Y/n’s coach would be their former colleague. He was the former head coach of Vanderbilt when their parents were athletes themselves before becoming assistant coaches. “He is everything you need to bring your A-game these next seasons and Rio. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning and see what he says.”

The four years between London and Rio were brutal. The training with their new coach and balancing an aviation career showed more hardships than ever. Y/n proved themselves to be a talented pilot despite the struggles and eventually was invited in 2015 to attend the Navy’s prestigious Fighter Weapons School more commonly known as Top Gun. The same place their grandfather attended and taught at.

A hard decision had to be made when the invite came. The time period interfered with the track season and Y/n would not be able to defend their two-consecutive world titles in the 400m sprint. In the end, Y/n announced they would be pulling out from the 2015 season to attend Top Gun. They weighed out the pros and cons and felt it was the best route given the Olympics were a year away. If an injury were to occur then it could result in Y/n not even having the chance to do the trials. Their coach was frustrated in the beginning, as one would be after dominating the national and international meets for two years straight. He eventually put his differences aside to put focus on what Y/n needed to improve if they were to take the gold in Rio.

It was at Top Gun that Y/n met fellow naval aviator Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. They were seated next to each other in one of the many lecture rooms at Fightertown where Nat had to do a double take after recognition sparked in her. Nat was an athlete in high school and college who, like many, would sit with her family to watch the Olympics every four years. Though she didn’t run track, a sibling of hers did so they would always tune into the events when they came on. After seeing the patch reading ‘Olympian,’ Nat had to hold back her fangirling as the memory of her cheering when the US took gold in the 4x100m relay. ‘It has to be them.’ At the end of the lecture she approached Y/n with a shy smile, “I’m so sorry if this is weird for you, but are you Y/n L/n? I’m Natasha—Phoenix.”

They struck up a friendship during their time at Top Gun. The two bonded over their NCAA careers and sports in general. Nat admired Y/n for being able to balance being an athlete and aviator, for she made the difficult decision to not pursue her sport after college. What was ironic was they didn’t feel threatened by the other when going after the top spot in their class, considering they were both obviously competitive. Both had immense respect for the other, and didn’t care at the end of the day who came out on top. They both had similar hobbies outside of flying and would spend nights watching movies, going to the bars, or playing volleyball with their fellow pilots. It was a genuine friendship with Nat supporting Y/n even after they graduated from Top Gun both ranked #1 in their class.

Nat even took time off to attend the 2016 U.S. Track & Field Olympic Trials. There she witnessed Y/n, who she now called a best friend, qualify for their third consecutive Olympics. Nat never screamed louder in her life than when Y/n took the top spot on the team for their events. “Oh my God, you did it!” She hugged the athlete when it was all done. “Holy shit congratulations, Oly! This is it—this is gonna be your year!” Nat wouldn’t be in Rio, but promised to cheer Y/n from home.

Unfortunately the journey for the individual gold medal ended before it could even start. After qualifying for the 100m and 200m finals with the expectation of being part of the relay team once again, Y/n’s dream of gold crashed during the semifinals of the 400m.

Literally crashed.

Their signature event which had an Olympic bronze and silver to their name as well as several World titles, ended in catastrophe. As Y/n came up on the last leg with the final turn, Y/n had a tight lead against their main opponent. But before they could blink the athlete to their left tripped and fell to the side directly in front of them. Moving so fast and unable to stop to avoid the person, Y/n topped over and felt a searing pain in their side as they landed awkwardly.

Gasps rang out before the stadium fell silent with just the faint sound of cheers from the winners of the race. Y/n was panting, clutching onto their side as fire filled the entire right side of their body. The athlete who tripped was in tears and apologizing profusely. There was still adrenaline from the sprint as the arena stopped spinning around Y/n. Determined to cross the finish line, Y/n pulled themself up and helped their fellow athlete up, “It’s okay, c’mon. Let’s finish this.” They were crying and Y/n had their own tears from the pain in their side and leg, but they only had a few yards to go. Cradling their right arm, Y/n was practically limping alongside their opponent while struggling to breath. Each time they took a breath they were met with pain, not to mention each step had them wince.

They didn’t want to think of the extent of the injuries. The pain alone indicated it was bad. Y/n knew right there their Rio run was done for. Their lips trembled as the reality set in.

The athlete saw Y/n’s condition and immediately brought them to their side as they approached the finish line. Cheers and claps ignited the stadium. There was no doubt they were moved by the display of sportsmanship between two athletes from differing nations. Both with the same goal of Olympic glory that would not be delivered.

Y/n was swarmed by the medical staff. The athlete who tripped them kept apologizing, filled with guilt, embarrassment and shame causing injuries to the Olympian. They felt a little pain from falling but nothing to the extent Y/n had. They had practically gone flying forward and crash landed to avoid hitting their head hard on the track. Now that the adrenaline had finally worn off, Y/n was having to do everything to hold back from collapsing. Y/n embraced the athlete with a hug despite the multiple medics yelling at them, “Don’t blame yourself, it could have happened to anyone. Okay? I’m not angry with you at all.” It was true, Y/n wasn’t angry. Were they sad? Of course, their Olympics were totally over after being diagnosed with a fractured right arm, a bruised rib, mild concussion from hitting their head on the track, and a torn ACL in their right knee.

Commentators were speechless when the incident occurred, “Coming around the corner on the final stretch it’s a tight race between USA, Jamaica, and France—Oh! Oh no! Oh my goodness, there’s been a crash here ladies and gentleman and it doesn’t look good for the American Y/n L/n. Not at all, they are not moving—oh wait no they are getting up right now and helping the athlete from Poland. But L/n looks to be in pain they’re holding onto their arm and I can see they are having trouble jogging—a slight limp to their step. Now the Polish athlete has taken L/n under their arm and they are crossing the finish line to the cheers of the arena in a display that could only be described as what the Olympics is truly about. Great sportsmanship here folks. It’s unsure what L/n is feeling right now but one thing is certain, we will not get to see Y/n go for the gold in the 400m final.”

After the race when the NBC announcers live from Rio were in the studio recapping, they gave an update to Y/n’s situation.

“Breaking news we’ve just received on American Y/n L/n. After the unfortunate incident in tonight’s 400m semifinal, the 26-year-old from Nashville, Tennessee was rushed to the hospital after it was realized the injuries they sustained were more severe than what they thought. It’s being reported Y/n is in surgery for a fracture to their right arm and torn ligament in their right knee. It’s also been noted the athlete suffered a mild concussion as well as a bruised rib. Their coach has come out with a statement on behalf of L/n letting it be known they’ll not be competing in the 100 and 200m finals nor the 4x100 and 4x400m relays they were scheduled to compete in. L/n also has said they will remain in Rio to recover until after the conclusion of these Olympic Games before returning with their teammates to the States.

“The gold medalist in the team relay from four years ago has not said if they will be aiming for a shot at the 2020 games in Tokyo, Japan. L/n was the 2008 bronze medalist in the 400m dash before claiming silver medals in the 100, 200, and 400m in London as well as sharing the gold for the 4x100m relay. They were the leading contender for an individual gold in one of the events after dominating the 2013 and 2014 World Championships. The three-time Olympian pulled out from the 2015 season due to conflicting commitments after revealing in 2012 they were commissioned into the United States Navy following their time at Vanderbilt University. These games in Rio were their first international competition since the one year hiatus. We can only hope Y/n will continue their journey to an individual gold medal in Tokyo, but from those of us in the studio and on behalf of everyone watching at home, we wish Y/n L/n a speedy recovery and safe trip back to the States.”

It was a solemn week in Rio with Y/n sitting in a hospital bed and the games playing on the tv screen. Their coach was with them, as was their dad and together they cheered the US when they took the gold in several events including defending the 4x100m relay. The doctors in Rio gave Y/n a recovery period of nearly one year—the longest healing process being the torn knee. It would be nine months until Y/n could even jog on it, but the doctors recommended waiting a full year before testing it. PT was going to be a pain in the ass, but as long as they didn’t run or do sprints then Y/n would be able to do all else after everything else healed.

Their concussion lasted a couple weeks and the bruised rib took over a month to heal, as did the fractured arm. The 2017 worlds and nationals were out of the question. Thankfully Y/n was still able to fly once the concussion was gone and their arm was fully functional.

The entire year the athlete was unsure of what to do about Tokyo. All their focus was put into flying. Running missions instead of the track and being promoted to Lieutenant in 2018. That same year they decided to try for one more shot at Olympic gold by training for Tokyo. Their coach and parents were all too pleased—even Nat after Y/n called her up to ask for advice. They had a lot to work on since Y/n waited an extra six months after fully recovering. The 2018 season was unattainable so the goal was a comeback in the 2019 season gearing up for the 2020 Olympics.

Just like when Y/n was a child, blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. More times could they remember wanting to quit when their knee started to act up after a bad start off the blocks. They had more arguments with their coach which only fueled the fire. Lastly they were on intense missions that took a toll on their mental health. Nat would check in on them every once in a while, but Y/n brushed it off. This is what they signed up for. They made their bed, now they were to lay in it.

2019 nearly brought deja vu. The World Championships were held in Qatar at the end of September leading into October when Y/n got the call from Vice Admiral Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson.

“The Pentagon has tasked me with assembling a strike team for a special detachment. I’ve seen your record and I feel you have what it takes to be a possible member of this mission. Now I know your situation and it is my understanding you’re currently in Qatar, what time are you expected to be stateside?”

Y/n’s hands were shaking, dread filling them at the thought they would likely have to decline an assignment. But these championships were more imported. “The last day is the sixth, but if I qualify for the finals of all my events then I should be done by the fifth, sir.”

“That’s perfect,” his words had them sigh in relief. “The tentative date to report to North Island is the 24th. I’ll be emailing you the information at another time.”

“Yes, sir. I will be there. Thank you for informing me, sir.”

“Oh and Lieutenant?” Cyclone stopped them before they could end the call.

“Yes, sir?”

There’s a slight pause, “Good luck out there. Bring home the gold for us.”

And bring it home they did. In an amazing comeback after what could have been a career ending injury, Y/n L/n reclaimed their title as the world champion in the 400m dash. They fell short in the 200m, but left with the silver and even secured the gold for the team 4x100m & 4x400m relays. People called it the ‘comeback of the decade,’ and Y/n fell subject to a lot of media attention in the world of sports. Their publicist did their best to handle the press once they found out about Y/n’s upcoming commitment. “I won’t let a single soul find out about this, Y/n, I promise you. The devil works hard, but I work harder.”

Once stateside track was put on hold to prepare and partake for the special Top Gun detachment. Dressed in their service khaki’s, Y/n entered The Hard Deck for the first time in three years and was immediately tackled by Phoenix. “You’re here! Holy shit when did you get back?”

“Like two weeks ago, I’ve been chilling since Qatar since there were no assignments until this.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Top Gun detachment too?” Phoenix raised a brow before frowning, “Why didn’t you tell me the other day on the phone?”

Y/n gave the woman a look, “I wasn’t sure we could even mention it to people. Plus you didn’t say anything either, Phee.” They got her there, the pilot raising a hand as if to say, “touché”. By now they have drawn the attention of several other aviators, who all appeared amused by the display of affection by Natasha and were curious to know who it was that received it. One person, Bob, had their jaw dropped when it clicked who they were. Payback appeared to be deep in thought, like they recognized Y/n but couldn’t put a name to their face.

“Trace, you gonna introduce us to your friend?” the blonde aviator, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin said with a pool cue in hand. He was totally checking Y/n out with a settle drift of the eyes up and down. They didn’t look impressed but smiled to the others nonetheless.

Natasha brought the pilot over and proudly introduced them, “Fellas, this is Y/n L/n. Better known as ‘Olympian.’ One of the best damn pilots you’ll ever see. We both shared the honor of first in the class at Top Gun in 2015.” Nat then introduced all the guys and their callsigns, Y/n shaking each of their hands—Bob still appeared starstruck when they let go of his hand.

“Olympian, huh?” Hangman chuckled at the name, “That’s quite the callsign. What are you Greek? Or obsessed with mythology?” Rooster glared at the man, but also looked curious for the reason behind the Y/n’s callsign. Even their name sounded familiar. They had yet to see the tattoo on Y/n’s bicep, which now had the names Beijing XXIX, London XXX and Rio XXXI in tiny cursive below the rings.

Before Nat or Y/n could fire back at Jake, Bob dropped his cup of peanut shells. Everyone looked at him like, ‘what the hell, man?’ But Y/n started to smile, recognizing the shock in his face as though he had been right about something.

“S-sorry. Oh my God,” he stuttered with red cheeks, “You’re Y/n L/n. L-like THE Olympic gold medalist Y/n L/n. Oh my God I’ve watched you since 2008–since Beijing!” The revelation had shocked looks from everyone now besides Nat of course.

Payback suddenly jumped from his seat, “holy shit! I knew I recognized you from somewhere but couldn’t exactly figure it out for the life of me.” The man was stationed in London at the time of the Olympic Games and attended the night the US won gold in the relays. Now here is a member that he cheered on from the stands in front of him. “Wow, I was in London seven years ago—I-I saw you compete. This is fucking unreal.” Y/n laughed, shaking Payback’s hand. He was still coming down from the shock, having just crossed his mind that all over ESPN and Sportscenter the past month sportscasters were talking about Y/n’s comeback.

“Wait a minute,” Rooster pitched in, the memory of being in a bar the summer of 2016 played in his mind. In the same memory he remembered watching the 400m semifinals on the tv scream and gasping with everyone else when the American contender for the gold had tripped over their competitor and was out the remainder of the games. Coming closer to the scene in front of him, Rooster’s eyes caught the black ink on Y/n’s bicep. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re a pilot, a naval pilot like us? And you’re a fucking olympian?”

“Three-time to be exact, but who’s counting?” Y/n teased, causing Phoenix to chuckle and hand them a beer. All the men minus Payback and Bob, who had slight knowledge of Y/n’s career, practically had their eyes bulging. Rooster honestly thought they had just been in London and Rio. “It’s nice to meet you all. And to answer your question…Bradley, right?”

“Yeah, but please call me Rooster.” Y/n tried not to giggle at the callsign.

“Rooster, but yes I am a pilot, as our lovely Phoenix has pointed out I graduated Top Gun with her three years ago.”

“Weren’t you just in Qatar two weeks ago?” Payback asked when he remembered the World Championships in Athletics had just taken place. All over sportscenter they were talking about the comeback of the decade. “I swear I just watched you on my tv the other day during replays of the world championships.”

Y/n sipped their beer before replying with a nod, “Yeah I was. I probably wouldn’t be here if the timing wasn’t perfect.”

“That’s crazy,” Fanboy commented, still in disbelief he was speaking to an actual Olympic athlete. After hearing the stories from his fellow athletes— and doing a quick google search when no one was looking—Mickey was internally fanboying like his callsign namesake. “How have you managed to do both?”

“Lot’s of sleepless nights, determination, desire to win, and tequila on the weekends.” There were laughs at that. For the rest of the night Y/n fell into conversation with everyone. A few asked for a picture, which they were happy to do, and even signed some autographs for Bob and Fanboy. They caught up with Nat, relieved London memories with Payback and went into detail about their injuries when Rooster brought it up.

“I was at the bar with some buddies and saw that happen live. Everyone couldn’t believe it and I remember seeing you limp across the finish line with the, I think it was the Polish athlete? That’s amazing you even managed to get up after a crash like that.” Y/n was on their second beer, sitting between Bob and Coyote and across from Rooster while the others listened from the sides as they continued the game of pool.

“What were you thinking at that moment?” Javy asked with curiosity. “Did you like automatically know it was over for you?”

Y/n thought for a bit before replying, “the second I hit the track I knew my chances for the 400m were done—it was the semifinals after all. When I first felt the pain I thought it was the typical instant pain that would go away after a bit. Then when I started to move it got worse and as soon as I got up I thought, ‘yeah there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do the finals or relays.’ My chest was on fire from the bruised rib and then I could barely feel my knee once the adrenaline wore off. I probably would’ve collapsed after the finish line if they weren’t holding me up.”

‘Damns’ and ‘wows,’ rang out before Bob politely asked, “Are you going to try for the Tokyo team?”

“Yup,” they exhaled with a nervous chuckle at the end. “It’s gonna be tough I feel with how these past couple seasons have been, but I’m hoping for one final Olympics. It will be my last chance at gold—Individual gold,” they corrected before anyone could comment.

“You’re gonna retire?” Fanboy tilted his head, a little saddened at the thought. Throughout the night he had been on his phone watching replays of Y/n’s meets including their Olympic and World Championship runs. He tried not to react when he watched the 2016 400m semifinals. Now the thought of them retiring felt like a loss to the sport. It was like how he felt when Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt retired.

“Maybe not fully,” Y/n gave a small smile. “I might do one last season and a Worlds, but I don’t think I’m gonna go for the Paris Games.”

Payback came over and clapped them on the back, “Well I don’t know about these clowns but you can count on me to cheer you on next year. Hell I might even come to the trials.”

“That’s what I did in ‘16,” Phoenix cut in with a smile. “It was amazing and I’ll be in the stands again. Already planning to take time off to be there.” Y/n felt the warmth and gratitude swarm in them, “Thanks, Phee.”

What should have been three weeks of special combat training turned out to be two. The pressure was on with Y/n pushing their limit harder than ever—even exceeded that of their comeback. Never had the F-18 they’d become accustomed to flying feel like a stranger. Maverick was like their coach and Y/n made it their own personal goal to prove to him they had what it took to fly the mission.

At one point Y/n nearly pulled out as a candidate. When the details of the assignment were brought into light Y/n had to think hard about what they were doing. It was not going to be an easy mission. Not by a long shot. Ending badly was a great possibility compared to actually pulling it off. Their life was on the line.

What if they died? What if they got injured to the point they would have to medically retire? Decades of training for the Olympics would end if something horrible happened. Y/n had three to their name, an honor not everyone gets to have, but there was their chance at redemption after 2016 was now on the line.

In the end 6 of the 13 candidates were chosen and although Y/n felt a little saddened they were not chosen, there was a sense of relief. They were put on reserves and boarded the carrier for a long week ahead of them. When it was time to send off their teammates, Y/n pulled them each into a hug, letting it linger on Nat and making her promise to come back. “If worse comes to worse, L/n,” Payback said, “You better win the gold in our honor.” There were mutters of agreement from the others.

“How about you focus on coming back so you can watch me win it in your honor.”

They fulfilled the promise, because now here they were in The Hard Deck about to watch Y/n attempt to keep their side of the bargain. It was 5:15 am on Friday August 6th, 2021. The second to last day of the Games of the XXXII Olympiad held in Tokyo, Japan. And it was the finals of the 400m sprint.

Just a couple months ago in June several members of the squad including Phoenix, Payback, Rooster, Hangman, & Bob met up in Eugene, Oregon to attend the trials for the U.S Olympic Track & Field Team. Following covid precautions they wore their masks and stayed together in their own little group literally competing themselves on who could cheer the loudest. It was a bittersweet moment watching their friend and former teammate secure their place in their fourth and final Olympics. Hangman and Phoenix nearly shed a tear, the former consumed with emotion as they looked on proud at their partner waving to the crowd. Their romance was a surprise, but after the two met to catch up in March of 2020, they ended up having to go thorough lockdown together.

And well…..forced proximity can do wonders when you’re attracted to someone.

Jake wished he could be in Tokyo with Y/n, but even though it had been over a year since the virus broke out and sanctions were being uplifted there were still regulations set in stone for the Olympics. The entire event was postponed a whole year, but was still referred to as the 2020 Olympics despite being 2021. Only the athletes and coaches, which were limited to only one, were allowed to travel. Leading up to the Games, Penny had issued a vaccination verification and made the mask policy optional for those who had been fully vaccinated. She even went as far as making a limit for attendees during the week of the track and field events and had people reserve a spot in advance. She even set up screens outside for people to keep space in the building.

It was still a pretty full house and it was buzzing with excitement as it had been the whole week. Many were regulars who came every night to watch the heats, semifinals, and finals of many events but mostly people were there to watch their very own Top Gun alumni Y/n L/n. Even their parents were there—flying to San Diego to be a part of the watch party. They were already filled with nerves, Y/n’s mother was very upset she couldn’t be there in Tokyo with her child. If they won the gold it would be a bittersweet moment since her parents wouldn’t be there to celebrate in person until they returned home.

It was already a successful Games for the Olympian. The week before Y/n won the bronze in the 100m dash and 4x400 mixed relay and reclaimed the silver in the 200m. The place erupted in cheers each time with the dagger squad being the loudest. It would increase whenever the camera panned to Y/n, who was in obvious joy at racking more medals to their Olympic collection.

But now the pressure was on with one final individual event.

The 400m sprint.

Their signature event with two medals and several titles to their name.

One final shot at gold.

There would still be the relays, in which the final for the 4x100m would take place an hour after the 400m final and then the 4x400m the following night, but Y/n becoming an Olympic champion for an individual event would happen in less than fifteen minutes. The program flipped between other events while in prep for the race, often showing Y/n in the tunnel as they awaited the announcement of the finalists.

At around 5:20 all eyes were glued to the screen with someone yelling, “Turn it up!’ when the sportscasters appeared to be talking about Y/n. The pilots all had the same expression, wincing when they replayed the footage of the 2016 semifinals.

“I think we can all agree we are looking forward to this race, right Steph?”

“That’s right, John. You know, all eyes have been on Y/n L/n these Games. They have already had a great run with three medals, two bronze and a silver with three more events to go. They have quite the Olympic career since their debut in 2008 at the age of eighteen. They came up forth in the 200m in Beijing and walked away with the bronze medal in the 400m,” below the commentator was Y/n’s Olympic statistics. “Then they had a spectacular run in London where we saw them on the podium in each of their events. Silver medals in the sprints and It was their start off the blocks in the 4x100m relay that I believe is what secured the Americans the gold.”

“I agree, Steph. I can still recall that race and the emotions I felt. L/n had an amazing post-Olympic run after London—totally dominating the 2013 & 2014 seasons. Let’s not forget they were one of the top athletes in the NCAA’s during their time at Vanderbilt. I definitely believe it would have continued into 2015 if they hadn’t pulled out, but they still were the leading contender for the Rio Games. It was the height of the career I feel.” The screen was now split to showcase footage of Y/n’s 2013 & 2014 Worlds. Then it showed the heats and semifinals of Rio.

“Totally, John, they dominated the trials that year. They very well could have left Rio with more medals—quite possibly a gold in 400m which is their signature event. Everytime I rewatch the semifinals I almost have to look away at the final turn.”

“I know, it was an unfortunate incident that ended Y/n’s Olympics before they could really start. We almost didn’t know if we would even see them here in Tokyo, but after a spectacular comeback at the 2019 World Championships in Qatar, I had very high hopes we would get to this moment.”

“Me too, John, the pressure is on for the 31-year-old, let’s see if they can deliver,” the commentator turns to look at the camera with Y/n’s picture beside her, “Well it’s almost time for the 400m and it looks they are about to announce the finalists so we are going to have our crew in the stadium takeover our coverage. We will see you back here in the studio after the race and be sure to stick around because the night won’t be over for the four-time Olympian. Y/n is set to be one the four of today’s 4x100m relay final and tomorrow’s 4x400m relay.”

The screen switched to reveal the stadium, specifically the entrance tunnel where a projection would show the name and nation of the finalists. Y/n had taken the top spot in their heat and the semifinal so they would get the fourth lane on the track.

“Here we go!” Someone in the Hard Deck clapped, causing a few more people to follow. The cheers heightened when the American flag appeared above the name Y/n L/n.

First the announcement was in Japanese, then the English translator spoke through the stadium “In Lane Four, representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n!” With a shy smile, Y/n appeared from the side and walked until they were directly beneath their name. Then they turned to the camera and gave a wave followed by blowing a kiss to the screen and lastly throwing a peace sign. It must have been a little awkward without a packed stadium like the previous Games. Only a small section was filled with locals and the coaches of the athletes.

“That’s my best friend!” Nat yelled over the cheers. Several others followed the pilot, “Let’s go, Y/n!” “Bring it home!” “One last time, baby, let’s go!”

The remaining finalists were announced and took their place behind the starting blocks. When the camera panned to Y/n, their eyes were closed in a silent prayer.

“Take your mark.”

Their eyes snapped open with a shaky breath, feet carrying them to the starting blocks. Y/n did a ritual stretch down, tapping the tops of their toes with their hands before bending down to place their feet in the right position. Glancing up to the sky, Y/n said in their head, “please, give me this one moment.” Tucking their chin into their chest, Y/n waiting with anticipation like everyone else in the world watching.

It was like time slowed. “Set.” Their knees lifted off the track.

*Pop* the sound of the gun and Y/n catapulted off the blocks. Their eyes never faltered as they ahead at the track and let their legs do the work. In their peripheral they saw their opponents, the space between them slowly decreasing by the second as they pulled into the final stretch. Coming around the corner there was no one in Y/n’s sight. The finish line drew closer. Y/n didn’t know if they were in the lead by a long shot or if it was only a nanosecond.

Their heart pounded in their chest, sweat dripping from their forehead. Heaved breaths left their mouth and Y/n could feel her bad knee start to burn. But they pushed and they pushed.

All Y/n knew as they crossed the finish line was the world record flashed and their eyes snapped to the board which resulted in them screaming. As the announcer yelled through the coms, “WORLD RECORD!!” Y/n fell to their knees in tears.

#1 Y/N L/N—USA 47.50 (WR, OR)

Below their name were spots 2-8. And not only did Y/n just take the gold in their last individual event, but they also broke the World and Olympic records. Records that had been set for decades.

When Y/n finally lifted their head they were met with beaming faces of their competitors. They all congratulated the athlete, some hugging and patting their back. The world record sign was still flashing and Y/n felt another wave of emotion. This time they ran to their coach, aware the cameraman was keeping up with them to get a close look for the viewers at home.

Y/n could only imagine what it was like in Fightertown.

The second the athletes were lining up, Coyote yelled, “Everybody shut up!!” Silence filled the building, everyone’s focus on their respected screen. “Set.” *Pop* The racers were off and the commentators were already speaking frantically. “Great start off the blocks for L/n, coming around on the first turn neck and neck with the athlete from the Bahamas. Jamaica and Great Britain are not too far as they take on the long stretch of the track.”

“Go! Go!” People started to scream. Bob was biting his nails, Rooster was gripping his beer bottle. Hangman and Coyote were already off of their seats, “C’mon, Y/n! You got this!” It got louder as they approached the final turn.

“L/n is starting to pull a lead as they come up the turn, but the Bahamas are right there—this was the moment L/n’s Olympic dreams were shattered in Rio—O-oh! L/n has overtaken the Bahamas—they’ve got a huge gap as they pull into the final stretch! Oh my God we could be witnessing history—L/n is .10ths of a second ahead of the World Record and increasing their lead ahead of the others by an outstanding margin!”

“Let’s go!!!” The commentators' words were barely there as it competed with the uproar of spectators in the Hard Deck. Everyone was pretty much out of their seats and jumping as they watched Y/n’s lead increase with each step to the finish line. “You’re almost there!! Go! Go! Go!”

Then it exploded.

“THEY’VE DONE IT! Y/N L/n has won the gold for America!! They smashed the Olympic record and set the World record for the 400m dash by .10 of a second at these Olympic Games in Tokyo!”

“OH MY GOD!!!” Phoenix and several others screamed. She and Halo embraced in a hug with Nat covering her mouth to hold back her emotion when the screen showed Y/n screaming out to the sky before falling to their knees. The guys were all jumping around, Rooster and Payback embraced in a side hug, pulling Jake who was pretty much in tears as he watched the display of his partner.

“After heartbreak four years ago in Rio that put them out of a chance for the gold, Y/n L/n has come out on top in Tokyo. They can finally add Olympic Champion to their name as well as Olympic and World record holder of the 400m dash. In what could be the last time we see Y/n L/n in an Olympic Games, they have achieved what they set out to do since their debut in Beijing 13 years ago. What a stunning finish to a beautiful Olympic career in the sport of track and field.”

Y/n’s parents were clenched in each other’s arms, eyes rimmed as their own tears poured. They were filled with so much happiness for their child and wished nothing more to be in the crowd and share this moment with them. At the bar top Warlock, Hondo, and Maverick were high-fiving while Cyclone clapped along with a smile. Penny rang the bell simply to join the cheers.

It was truly spectacular to witness. The slow motion replay was on the screen followed by the Y/n’s reaction when they looked up to find their name on the board. The cheers kept going and only started to quiet down when TV showed the athlete in their post race interview. “Y/n, what a night here tonight. Congratulations are in store, you have not only taken an individual gold but also the World record—and the Olympic record! It’s your fourth medal in these Games, the first gold—how are you feeling right now after this victory?”

Everyone hushed to listen, but were grinning wide and some were wiping away tears. Y/n’s face was flushed, still coming off of the high of what had just happened. “O-oh I can’t even put it into words how I’m feeling right now,” there was a slight sniff, Y/n using their finger to wipe their face but was careful not to let the material of the American flag draped around their shoulders touch their skin.

“This is a dream come true. It has been a long journey to get here and I-I am so honored to have been a part of this team for as long as I have. You know after the 100 & 200 I didn’t want to have my hopes too high because as you can see anything can happen in these Games,” Y/n chuckled, eyes glossy, “I think I may have actually blacked out on the last stretch. I just kept my focus on the finish line and was just as amazed to see I had broken the records.”

The title card on the screen now showed: Y/n L/n, Gold Medalist, 400m (WR, OR: 47.50).

“Your friends and family have all gathered in San Diego—they’re watching right now and we actually got footage of their reaction to your win tonight. We’d love to show you if you like.”

“Oh God please,” Y/n was already giggling. The assistant brought over an ipad with a video and pressed play. On the tv screens the image split to show the video beside Y/n’s face to capture their own reaction. They saw the daggers squad in front of the bar while their superiors including Maverick were seated at the bar top. They were all surrounded by servicemen and women as well as civilians. Y/n teared up when they spotted their parents near Jake. By the end of it Y/n was basically crying while laughing. “Oh my God, that is amazing. I wish they could’ve been in the stands. I know my parents are probably thinking how the one time they can’t see me compete in person is when I win.”

The reporter laughed along with them. “I know I gotta let you go cause you’re set to race the relay in less than an hour and the podium ceremony is about to start, but before you go I just want to ask if this is the last time we’ll see you after these Games conclude Sunday night.”

Y/n softly smiled to the reporter, bottom lip slightly trembling, “uhh, you know I wasn’t completely sure. Since Rio I’ve had some troubles with my knee after the torn ACL—I almost wasn’t sure about these Games until 2018. I’ve been talking to Allison Felix these past couple days, since this is gonna be her last Games. Her and I have been part of Team USA for 13 years now and she’s become not only a mentor but a friend to me and i’m going to miss seeing her at competitions. I know I plan to do the 2022 season—especially the Worlds. Paris is only three-years away,” they shrugged, like they were considering it, “I’ll be thirty-four when it comes around so it’s really gonna come down to how I’m feeling after 2022.”

“Well I hope to see you again in Paris, but if not then it was truly a pleasure watching you these years. You’ve been an inspiration to many watching back home in the States. Congratulations again on this win and we can’t wait to see you bring it in the relays. Good luck again tonight.”

“Thank you so so much. I appreciate it and much love to everyone back home—thank you for all the support, especially my mom and dad, my coach, and my friends in Fightertown who I know are probably losing their minds. I love you all and I couldn't have got this gold without each and every one of you. Thank you,” Y/n shakes their hand and blows a kiss to the camera before following the volunteer to locker rooms to change for the podium ceremony.

Just like in London, Y/n was nearly a mess on the podium when the gold medal was presented to them. Per covid regulations, the athlete had to place it around their own neck instead of how it was at previous games with someone else doing the honor. Still, it held everything to Y/n.

They were an Olympic champion.

Tears streaked their face when the national anthem played and when it concluded Y/n kissed the medal and waved to the crowd of spectators that included the media and athletes from other countries. The rest of Team USA’s track athletes were there too, cheering the loudest as some of them have been Y/n’s teammates for over a decade. After pictures with the other medalists Y/n was rushed to get ready for the relay that was to start in 20 minutes. At the Hard Deck it was an emotional scene watching the podium ceremony. Jake and Nat were embraced, looking on with glossy eyes while everyone beamed at the screen. Y/n’s parents were with them too. It was bittersweet.

20 minutes later they were in cheers once again when Team USA took the silver in the 4x100m relay. Y/n kick started it off like they did in London, but this time fell short to second place by a smudge. It still was a celebration with Y/n adding another silver medal to their personal Tokyo medal count. It was passed one in the morning in Tokyo when Y/n FaceTimed Jake after the podium ceremony. They were met with shouts of joy from everyone in proximity that it was hard to even make out the individual voices.

“You fucking did it!!”

“Congratulations, Lightning McQueen, you were amazing!”

“Holy shit, Olympic gold!”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Y/n. I wish I could hug you right now.”

The call was brief but wholesome with Y/n thanking the entire squad for their support and they loved watching their reaction to the race. Jake spoke on behalf of the others with the promise to celebrate the second Y/n returned to San Diego in three days. After goodbyes and a quick chat with their parents, Y/n ended the call to get much needed sleep for their final race the next day. The Hard Deck cleared out soon after with many calling it a day.

It was the same scene the next morning at 5:30 am to watch the final of the 4x400m relay. “It is the final day in these Olympic Games after a spectacular two weeks in Tokyo. Many firsts have been made. There are just a few events to get through tonight before closing ceremonies tomorrow evening. All eyes are now on the finals of the 4x400m relay. And boy is there a lineup tonight with the Americans looking to defend with a seventh-straight title.”

“It’s going to be an interesting finals tonight, Mark. Like you mentioned, the US have retained the title of Olympic champions in this event since the 1996 Games in Atlanta. They are unstoppable and this is the first time Y/n L/n is part of the group. They won the gold in London for the 4x100 and just last night took silver in the event. Four years ago in Rio they were set to be on both the 4x100 and 4x400, but after a tragic semi finals that ended with a torn ACL, L/n had to pull out of Games.”

On the screen the team was announced with all four athletes appearing from the side. Together they did a little dance for the cameras before going to the track. “I’m interested to see how L/n does tonight and if they can pull through. This event is truly a team effort and unlike last night, L/n is set to anchor the Americans in the final pass rather than starting. They just won the gold in the 400m last night in a stunning record breaking finish—I’m still in disbelief.”

The Hard Deck painted a familiar picture as the previous morning. The Daggers were on the edge of their seats when the race started and Penny stopped taking orders when the third pass began. The camera was split to show Y/n taking their spot on the track to await the baton. Then the screen went back to one when the American came up on the last turn. “Here comes the final pass of the bottom in the final leg of this 4x400 relay. Poland and Jamaica are not far behind, but the Americans have given Y/n L/n a lead—and there they go! Beautiful pass from teammate to teammate and Y/n L/n is off to hopefully bring the US their seventh consecutive gold.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s go!!” Jake yelled, the others echoing his cheers. At the bar patrons were clapping the surface.

“They’re gonna get it—look at the lead!”

“It’s not over yet.”

“Let’s go, Y/n, you’re almost there!” The athlete increased the distance between them and the polish on the stretch coming into the final turn. The cheers got louder and louder with many already celebrating when it was obvious the Polish were not gonna catch up. The announcers knew it too.

“Poland has overtaken Jamaica but it will not be enough for Olympic glory—Y/n L/n has increased the margin their teammates had given them and has no doubt secured them the gold! All there is left to do is cross the finish line and the Americans have done it again! L/n has finished the job and given Team USA their seventh straight gold medal in the 4x400m relay!!” The last line was in tune with Y/n crossing the finish line. A large smile plastered on their face as a cry of joy left them that the camera managed to capture. Their teammates met them in the middle with the four embracing in cheers.

The Hard Deck exploded again when Y/n crossed the finish line, matching their reaction as though they were the ones who just won the gold for their country. They couldn’t wait for Tuesday when Y/n came home and they could celebrate the big wins together. Jake was really excited especially after having a heart-to-heart with Y/n’s father. The ring was safely tucked away in his suitcase as a reminder of what he had planned for his Olympian.

The rest of the daggers, including Mav and Hondo ended up staying an extra hour after the podium ceremony to celebrate their friend. Many were still in disbelief, but filled with absolute joy. Who wouldn’t really? They had just witnessed their friend win their sixth medal in a single Olympics. Something uncommon for even athletes who qualify for multiple events.

But Y/n did it.

They left Tokyo with two bronze, two silver, and two gold. In four Olympics Y/n started from a single bronze in their debut to their first team gold in London, leaving with nothing in Rio to finally medaling in every event they raced in Tokyo. Their first individual gold after thirteen years of hard work and dedication to rise to the top since they sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium.

It was a golden end to an Olympic dream 25 years in the making.

Or so they thought…..

When the stars painted Paris on the night of August 11th, 2024, the final night of the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, Y/n L/n waved to the crowd in a bittersweet goodbye as they wore the Stars and Stripes one final time. It was hard to hear over the roar of spectators from all over the world. Not a single seat had been empty for the final race of Y/n L/n’s career. Athletes from other disciplines attended, some in tears by the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

“It is an emotional scene here tonight in the Stade de France as we say goodbye to Y/n L/n of the United States. There isn’t a dry eye in sight as spectators and athletes from around the globe watch the five-time Olympian take their final bow after winning the gold with the Americans in the 4x400m relay in their eighth consecutive title. In what could be described as the greatest Olympic run a track athlete has ever done, Y/n L/n has achieved the impossible in Paris with six gold medals in six events. Never has an Olympian taken the gold in the 100, 200, 400m, and all three team relays in a single Olympics, but Y/n L/n has made history. They are also the second Olympian and only American to win gold in the 100, 200, and 400m in a single Olympic Games.”

Y/n walked the track with a cameraman following them, hand that was not waving patting their chest where their heart laid. The hand now had a gold wedding band and Tokyo XXXII and Paris XXXIII added to the bicep tattoo. Y/n’s teammates that they just won the gold with had stood to the side, clapping with the crowd with American flags draped around their shoulder and tears cascading their cheeks.

Y/n finally made it to the section where the majority of Americans who had traveled from the States were seated in a sea of red, white, and blue. Y/e/c went straight to the front few rows and were immediately met with the sight of not only their parents beaming faces, but the ones of their closest friends. None of them were hiding their emotion. Phoenix was embraced by Rooster, the two wiping away at their faces as was Bob. Fanboy and Coyote were teary eyed while Payback just nodded with a bright grin, bringing his fingers up to whistle. Even Maverick, who was now retired from the Navy, was in attendance looking like a proud father.

And Jake? Jake was a mess.

His green eyes were pretty much bloodshot but there was love and admiration in his gaze. His own wedding band reflected under the stadium lights and he made the motion of catching the kiss Y/n blew to him before placing it on his heart. All he wanted to do was jump over the railing and hug his spouse, but unfortunately that would have to wait until after the podium ceremony.

The extinguishing of the Olympic torch at the closing ceremonies would signal the start of Y/n’s retirement from the world of athletics. It would close one chapter, but the other was still in progress. There was still time for them to be the best of the best in terms of naval aviators. They were not even halfway into their Naval career.

And they were totally up for the challenge, because nothing is impossible when going for the gold.

[what-eats-owls]

In all your publishing knowledge - can you shed any light why authors/publishing companies seem to release en masse on certain months of the year, rather than parsing out releases over 12 months??

So this is gonna be split between stuff I know for a fact/from personal experience, and stuff I have gleaned through context/hearsay, because publishing is both intentionally and unintentionally opaque about what actually benefits book sales. (Among other things. That's for another post, though.)

So let's start with stuff that's concrete. First off, authors don't actually set their own release dates if they're traditionally published. That's at the sole discretion of the publisher, apart from contractual clauses (e.g. they can't sit on a complete and printable manuscript for five years.)

Now the bummer thing is, books actually do come out year-round, not all at once. You just don't hear about 95% of them because they don't get mega marketing campaigns; these tend to be what's called the midlist. Midlist books get modest publisher support but aren't expected to be smash hits, just turn a (modest) profit.

What I also know is that certain times of the year are perceived as better for certain titles. E.g. a book by an established mega author can come out anytime and make bank. A book expected to take off with kids is gonna launch near summer vacation. Anticipated holiday bestsellers tend to launch in October/November... unless it's a presidential election year.

What I have heard/gleaned from context is that post-Christmas is not great for sales, generally, unless you have something like the B&N BOGO sale of December 2021. Earlier in a month is considered better for best-of and top-seller lists, which is why the first Tuesday is usually crowded. (Why books mostly release on Tuesdays is a funny story for another time.)

There's a range of opinions on whether it's better to release the same day or month as an anticipated blockbuster, but no real consensus. On the other hand, what may look like a suboptimal release day is often pitched to an author as "less competition for the bestseller lists." The, uh, consistency of this is... varied.

But yeah! In short, there's a blend of observable trends and dubious superstitions, but books actually do release year-round. My recommendation would be to ask your local booksellers what their favorite new release is that month. Alternatively, you can check out the Indie Next lists, which are bookseller-picked recommendations posted monthly for adult books, and bimonthly for YA and kid lit!

[hockeylovee12]

Anyone But Him

Chapter One

July 1st, 2021

The summer sun slowly starts to sink casting a golden glow over the cloudless sky, as Luke's sleek white SUV glides along the I-90, following the signs for Massachusetts. His tires hum against the pavement, creating a steady rhythm within the backdrop of passing cars and typical highway sounds. 

Inside the car, the thumping beat of some random ass country song fills the air, and Luke absentmindedly taps his lengthy fingers along the smooth, cool surface of the leather steering wheel in front of him. 

For a moment, Luke's eyes temporarily leave the road ahead, as he glances towards the seat next to him, where Sadie dons a cropped lilac tank top, jean shorts, and a pair of worn-out Hightop Converse, quietly gazing out the window, while a book, a classic piece entitled Mrs. Dalloway rests on her lap.

Over ten hours have passed since they began the long drive from their hometown in Michigan to the small lake town in New Hampshire where Luke's family lake house awaits their arrival. 

Luke's eyes return to the road, and a small smile forms across his lips as he uses the button on his steering wheel to lower the volume of the music, "Excited for freshman year?" Luke asks his voice laced with excitement as he brings up the topic of college-a subject that has been occupying both their minds since they tossed their caps in the air at their high school graduation less than a month ago.

Sadie hesitates, the silence somewhat deafening against the fading music, and shifts in her seat causing the fabric of her tank top to cling to her skin. 

"Definitely" She replies, the word squeezing past the tight feeling in her throat as she forces a smile to cross her lips. 

"Michigan is gonna be so fucking awesome! I can't wait till we start!" Luke energetically adds, his previously small smile broadening into a wide grin

For him the idea of attending the University of Michigan with his best friend is more than just a hope or a silly dream, it's their reality, it's their plan. 

At least it's supposed to be.

"Have you picked your classes yet?" Luke continues, riding the wave of his anticipation.

She bites the inside of her cheek before mumbling "Sort of,"

Her hesitant response holds significant weight to an unforgettable event, eleven days prior, when the possibility of a different future presented itself-one that's not painted in blue and maize, but rather in the scarlet embraces of Rutgers University, a school attended and cherished by her late mother. 

The vivid image of ripping open her acceptance letter surfaces in her mind. 

She applied several months ago after being accepted to the University of Michigan, and with the exception of her dad-seeing as how she didn't wanna have to pay the $75 application fee out of her own pockets-she didn't tell anyone, because even with a 4.3 GPA and a long list of extracurriculars, the reality of actually getting accepted to Rutgers, was always a long shot, and there was no reason to get anyones hopes up or in Luke's case crush them, for something that probably wouldn't happen. 

Except it did happen. 

Rutgers accepted her and now she's faced with making a decision between going to Michigan with Luke or following in her mother's footsteps and attending Rutgers. 

She prepared herself to share the news with Luke the same day she received her acceptance but that same evening another, far more momentous event was taking place: The NHL Entry Draft.

This wasn't just any draft, this was Luke's draft. This was the day that would determine his future, determine if everything he had worked for, everything his family had worked for, his coaches, his teammates, every game, every loss, every win, if all of it was enough to make it to the NHL. 

So when his name was called as the fourth overall pick, to the New Jersey Devils-a team the Hughes family is very familiar with as one of Luke's older brothers, Jack was their coveted 1st overall pick, two years prior-the sheer look of happiness on Luke's face caused a surge of restitance to rush through Sadie's bones. 

And at that moment she thought 'How the hell could she possibly interrupt what is probably one of the most important moments in her best friends life, with news that would absolutely crush him?"

She couldn't, no she wouldn't. So instead she stayed quiet. 

Over the next few days, she probably rehearsed the conversation in her mind over a hundred times, promising herself she would tell Luke before, they left for their annual summer trip, but she didn't and she could lie and say she couldn't find the time, but the truth is what she couldn't find was the courage. 

Now they're two hours away from the lake house, where they'll spend the next eight days with Luke's family and a few of his brother's friends and Luke thinks she's going to Michigan with him, when the reality is she has no fucking clue where she's going yet. 

Sadie glances over at Luke, who has since returned the music to its blaring and probably ear-damaging volume and is tapping his fingers to the beat of a Morgan Wallen song. 

Sadie's mind trickles back to the beginning of their friendship nearly six years ago. 

It all started the same year Luke’s family moved to Canton, Sadie’s hometown. Luke was really nervous about starting at a new school, in a new environment -having previously lived in Toronto-and even more so because this would be his first time attending a school without his older brothers, who were both attending the local high school. 

On the first day of seventh grade, Sadie and Luke found themselves seated next to one another in homeroom. 

They didn’t talk much, or really at all over the first few weeks, both being rather shy, but all that changed when they were invited to a house party by a mutual friend. 

Sadie remembers having to beg and plead with her dad to receive permission to go, but eventually he agreed. 

It wasn’t the typical house party, like you see in the movies, there were no drugs or alcohol-thankfully considering this was a party for twelve year olds. 

However it was a makeout party, something neither of them had ever experienced before. 

People were playing spin the bottle, the PG-13 version of truth or dare, and the infamous seven minutes in heaven. 

Somehow a close friend of Sadie’s at the time, Reagan Arnold, managed to convince Sadie to participate in a round of seven minutes in heaven. 

Reagan told Sadie to wait in the closet while she chose the guy, swearing up and down she would choose a good guy. 

Sadie was surprised, when Luke, the new kid, opened the door and walked in. 

It was really awkward at first, obviously considering two people who had barely spoken ten words to each other, were now locked in a small, dark coat closet, expected to kiss. 

Funny thing was neither of them had kissed someone before. 

They managed to find a light in the closet, and that’s when Sadie spoke “So do you like movies?” was the first thing she said. The question sorta caught Luke by surprise, but either way he replied “Ya I love movies, I like the Marvel ones the best!” 

“Me too I always watch them with my dad” Sadie had said. They spent the next few minutes talking to one another and they quickly realized they have a lot in common, then towards the end of the seven minutes, they attempted their first kiss, which resulted in their foreheads bumping rather than their lips. They started laughing uncontrollably, and from that day forward, they’ve been practically inseparable. 

Over the past six years, they’ve shared pretty much everything together, memories, secrets, fears, the whole nine yards. 

They’re best friends, that’s what they do.

Best friends talk to each other, they share things, they trust one another, at least they're supposed to. 

A small sigh escapes from Sadie's lips as her eyes drift towards the window, absently watching as an array of cars come flying by. 

It shouldn’t but the thought of telling Luke she might not go to Michigan feels terrifying because how the hell do you tell your best friend of six years ‘Hey I know you’re all excited thinking we’re going to college together, but actually I think I’m going somewhere else. But I’ll see you over break!’

She can’t do that. 

But at the same time, her mom died when she was only nine. Rutgers was a huge part of her life, and if she passes on the opportunity to attend the school that brought her mom so much, joy and happiness, it would basically be abandoning her mother's memory, or surrendering the chance to continue her legacy-it would be giving up on her mom. 

She absentmindedly lets out another sigh, her thoughts returning to the present as a soft touch lands on her exposed shoulder.

Her striking hazel eyes—a mirror of her late mother's—shift towards Luke.

shift towards Luke.

“You alright?” Luke asks, his voice slicing through her brain, like a scolding knife through a block of ice. 

Sadie shakes her head once, a literal attempt to remove the thoughts from her mind, “Ya sorry what’d you say?” She replies 

Luke chuckles before repeating “I asked if you’re excited to watch me play at Yost?!” 

Sadie pauses “Oh ya, definitely…super excited” her voice trying to mimic just enough enthusiasm to make it sound believable. 

Luke glances towards her, the previously lingering excitement in his eyes fading to display a mix of affection and concern, “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem really distracted” he asks 

‘Tell him’ Sadie’s mind practically shouts to her ‘Just get it over with!’

In a moment, Sadie takes a deep breath, forcefully pushing her thoughts aside before responding “Ya I’m just a little tired, you know long car rides” 

Luke nods in agreement, his smile returning “Why don’t you take a nap, we still got like an hour or so before we make it to the house” Luke suggests

“Ya good idea” Sadie replies, as she leans back in the comfortable seat and rests her head on the transparent window before allowing her eyes to close shut. 

***

Sadie's eyes begin fluttering open to the sound of tires rolling on gravel. 

Her eyes lock on the familiar silhouette of the lake house, illuminated, by porch lights. The sight of the lake house, with its weathered cedar shingles and windows mirroring the lake's calm waters, brings an immediate wave of relief to Sadie. 

Luke turns his head towards her, his face painted with a soft smile, before latching on to the key, stuck in its slot, and flicking his wrist, allowing the previously roaring engine to hum into a peaceful silence, "Ready?" he asks. Sadie smiles, and nods, unbuckling her seatbelt.

They exit the car, their shoes crunching on the gravel, as the nostalgic scent of pine and lake water fills their noses bringing the memories of past trips to the forefront of their minds. 

The two exchange a smile, as they step towards the front of the car, when the large wooden door, leading into the house, swings open revealing Luke’s parents Ellen and Jim.

Ellen, with her gentle blonde waves reflecting the warmth around her, approaches Sadie, “Hi Sweetie” Ellen greets, her voice filled with genuineness as she wraps her arms around Sadie in a comforting embrace, “How was the drive up?” 

“It was good” Sadie replies, nestling closer into the hug, finding solace in the normality of it. 

A small smirk, dances across Sadie’s lips as their arms untangle themselves from one another, and Sadie, glances towards Luke, who’s standing, to the left of her, embracing his father in a hug. “Luke somehow managed to get us here in one piece” She teases, eliciting a laugh, from both Ellen and Jim. 

“Careful, there I wouldn’t insult the driver” Luke remarks, with a smirk, as he turns to embrace his mom in a hug, “Remember I’m your ride home” Luke adds

Sadie lets out a playful giggle, knowing deep down, Luke would never leave without her.

"Jacky and Q here yet?" Luke asks his parents

"Not yet they should be arriving any minute" Ellen answers, her blue eyes shifting around the scene as if she's trying to activate her x-ray vision and find their car through all the trees. 

Luke nods and turns to his car, walking towards the trunk, planning to remove his and Sadie's luggage when a loud honking sound startles him. 

“FUCK!” he curses 

Jim raises his eyebrows in disapproval towards his youngest boy, who proceeds to send an apologetic look in response, before rotating his body, to see his older brothers along with two of their friends Trevor Zegras and Josh Norris, arriving in Jack’s car. 

Luke quietly mutters ‘idiots’, before finishing his task of removing the luggage from his car. 

Once finished, he shuts the trunk of his car, and steps towards Sadie, allowing Jack to park his car. 

Quinn is the first to exit, from the passenger side, immediately making his way towards Luke and Sadie and pulling the two teenagers into a hug. 

“Hey guys! How you doing?” He asks, his voice laced with platonic affection. 

Sarcasm creeps into Luke’s voice as he teasingly replies “Doing good, until you showed up and damaged my ear drums”

Quinn retaliates by pulling the taller boy closer to him and ruffling his hair much to his annoyance. 

Sadie smiles watching her best friend interact with his-and basically her-older brother, while the remaining of the group emerges from Jack's car. 

Trevor, always the playful one, practically jumps out of the car with a laugh, his oak colored hair tousled from the drive. Josh follows, calmly exiting and taking a moment to stretch his arms above his head. The amiable smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes hints at the warmth and friendliness of his demeanor, as he makes his way toward Ellen and Jim, politely greeting them. 

Then comes Jack, extracting himself from the drivers seat, with the same blend of confidence and composure, of a team with a 7-0 lead in the dying seconds of the third period. He's the older-at least of Luke-, the mega-talented and undeniably attractive brother, the epitome of charm and charisma. The first overall pick, the ladies man of the group, the ‘golden boy’, the term frequently used by Luke in an envious driven attempt to paint an accurate description of his brother.

Jack steps closer to Luke and Sadie before attacking Luke in a bear hug, nearly knocking the youngest and tallest of the family off his feet. 

"JACK!” Luke shouts, his voice more playful than annoyed-although it still radiates waves of annoyance-as he tries to push the older boy off.

“Ugh get off of me!” Luke continues, clearly struggling, before finally managing to remove his brothers hold.

“Hey Sades” Jack says, a smile crossing his lips, as he turns his attention towards her, his arm lingering around Luke, before resting on his shoulder. 

“Hey Jack” Sadie replies politely 

“I see you’re still hanging around this one” Jack teases with a smile as he playfully ruffle his fingers through Luke’s curls, which causes Luke to send an ‘if looks could kill’ type of glare towards both his brothers, clearly annoyed by the fact that they have deemed it their civil duty to mess with his hair-which it’s not. 

“I'm not that annoying” Luke retorts with a grin, his hand moving to smooth down his messed-up hair.

Luke’s gaze shifts, finding Trevor standing a few feet away interacting with Quinn and Josh, a large smile present on his face, “And besides at least one of us has normal friends” Luke adds, purposely raising his voice enough for Trevor to overhear

“Is he talking about me?” Trevor asks, a sly grin forming, as he steps closer to Luke

Jack’s response comes quick “I think so” 

“You just wait Lukey, this summer Jack and I are finally gonna get you back for all the pranks the two of you pulled on us last summer” Trevor declares, his eyes shifting with unwavering confidence between Luke and Sadie.

Jack nods in agreement, the smile on his face never fading, it’s the kind that reaches all the way up to his striking blue eyes, a similarity shared between him and his brothers. 

Luke and Sadie exchange a knowing glance of confidence with one another, indicative of disbelief at the thought of Jack and Trevor successfully pulling off a prank. 

Sadie’s voice is light as she chimes in “Isn’t that what you said last summer, and the summer before?” she teases, because it is, they say it every summer, and every summer they fail. 

Jack’s cheeks flush red, as he tries to force, credibility into his voice “No” 

Josh who had, finished helping Quinn, unpack the car and is now standing beside him on the outer circle of the conversation, interjects “Uh ya it is”

Jack and Trevor share a playful look, mixing with a hint of embarrassment, their previous expression of confidence disintegrating as Trevor replies “Ok well…maybe…but this summer for sure” 

Luke and Sadie exchange a laugh “Uh huh we’ll see about that” Luke says his voice wavering with skepticism.

Ellen shakes her head, the smile on her face, washing away any accusations of annoyance “Alright guys” she begins “Let’s try and keep the pranking to a minimum this year” 

One last look of mischief and playfulness is exchanged among the group before they nod and begin walking towards the front door.

***

After having a chance to unpack their belongings and settle into their respective rooms-Ellen and Jim taking the master bedroom on the first floor, well the remaining six split between four rooms on the second floor, Jack and Trevor sharing one room as well as Quinn and Josh sharing another while Sadie and Luke, are given their own-the clock creeps towards nine pm, and the group gathers in the spacious living room, to discuss dinner plans, something on everyone's minds and stomachs. 

"Mhm, a burger sounds so good" Luke comments to no one in particular, as he flops down next to Sadie, on the u-shaped couch.

"Eh not really and too much work" Quinn claims, allowing a yawn to escape his lips. 

Jim, who had previously been in the kitchen, walks towards the center of the room with a stack of takeout menus, and raises his voice over the growing chatter. "I was thinking we could keep it simple tonight—takeout sound good to everyone?" 

He's met with an array of nods, ya's and yes's as suggestions start flying back and forth-Chinese, Italian, Mexican-Luke lobbies for burgers again, but after a few minutes and naming pretty much every type of cuisine they could think of they agree on pizza and salad, leading to a discussion on toppings.

It takes another five minutes and a heated debate on whether pineapple belongs on pizza, before Ellen can dial the number of a local restaurant, confirming the mishmash of orders-two large caesar salads, a meat lovers pizza, one with just cheese for the less adventurous ones, a pepperoni one and an experimental half-and-half with pineapple, sausage and olives.

"Thank you! See you in 20 minutes" Ellen says, relaying the information to the rest of the group before hanging up. 

"I'll pick em up, Trev you wanna come?" Jack asks, starting to stand up. 

"Sure man" He answers and with that the two head towards the front door, disappearing into the night air, and leaving behind a fleeting echo of their voices, discussing who's driving, and who's bringing the pizza's in.

Back in the living room, Quinn flops down on the couch "So, any big plans while we're up here? I mean, other than stuffing our faces?"

"Speak for yourself," Luke quips, "I'm hitting the lake first thing tomorrow."

A murmur of approval ripples through the group as plans begin to take shape with talk of wakesurfing and late-night bonfires, until the conversation shifts to the University of Michigan.

Sadie feels a knot form in her stomach, as Josh and Quinn, former players of the hockey team, chime in with their two cents. 

Her eyes trickle to the glass doors leading to the wooden deck, searching for an escape when a wave of emotions wash over her as she recalls her first trip here.

It was the summer after she met Luke, the summer before eighth grade. They drove up with Luke’s parents, Jack and Quinn and two of their friends Cole and Brady. 

Most of their days were spent, swimming in the lake, roasting marshmallows over the bonfire, or all the boys trying to teach Sadie how to play hockey on the driveway-which she’s gotten much better at- but what she remembers the most is sitting on the deck, talking to Luke about her mom.

He was the first person she felt comfortable enough with to open up about her mom’s passing, what it was like to be nine years old watching your mom rot away in a hospital bed, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop a disease you barely understood. 

With Luke, Sadie didn’t need to put on a smile and pretend that everything was okay, when it wasn’t, and despite only being 12 at the time Luke didn’t try to fix it either. He didn’t run to his parents or brothers, he just listened. 

Luke was the first person to show her with more than just words, she didn’t need to bury all her thoughts and secrets inside. 

Luke was the first person to show her she wasn’t alone. 

Suddenly her eyes turn to glass as she wonders if everything would change if she chose Rutgers, if she would lose everything she has with Luke?

“You okay?” Luke asks his voice, pulling her back to reality

Sadie hesitates before responding “Ya, I’m fine. I just remembered I forgot to call my dad, so I’m gonna do that real quick” Luke watches as she swiftly stands up and makes her way to the stairs leaving no time for him to respond.

Once her feet reach the top of the stairs, she rushes into her room, her mind too occupied to notice, she doesn't properly close the door. 

Sadie scrambles to unlock her phone, her fingers trembling as she fumbles with the green call button.

Finally her fingers press the button, the loud dial tone filling, the otherwise silent room. Sadie leans against the wall.

“Hey dad” she greets, her voice wobbly.

“Hi pumpkin, how you doing?” Her dad asks

They begin talking about everything and nothing-the drive, the weather, her dad’s job.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the front door swings open. Jack walks in, followed by Trevor, both carrying two large pizzas and a box of salad.

Jack and Trevor set the food down on the kitchen counter, as the rest of the group, crowds around the kitchen sink, preparing to wash their hands. 

“Where’s Sadie?” Trevor asks as he makes his way towards the sink as well.

Ellen motions to the stairs “I think she went upstairs, Jack do you mind telling her dinner is here please” Ellen requests, her clean hands busy gathering plates and napkins from the oak cabinets.

Jack nods, “Got it” He replies as he walks towards the stairs.

He stops in the room shared by him and Trevor, to set his keys on the nightstand, before making his way towards Sadie’s room.

Her voice, seeping through the small crack in the door frame, causes him to slow, pausing as he listens in. 

“Dad, I don’t know what to do! I don't wanna hurt him" 

Sadie’s words spill out like a waterfall, “How do I choose between Rutgers and Luke” Her voice trembles.

Jack instinctively takes a step back, his heart racing as he realizes he shouldn’t be listening to this. He turns his back to the door, his mind screaming at him to walk away, but his body remains in place. 

Every fiber in his being is drawn to Sadie, to the pain and secrecy hidden in her voice. 

And then it hits him-Rutgers. Why is she talking about that? And what does Luke have to do with it?

A whirlwind of emotions swirl within him as he struggles to piece together Sadie's words, when the muffled reply of “Love you too” seeps through the door frame, sending a jolt of panic through his body.

Before he can force his body to move, run, jump, do anything, the door swings open and Sadie’s small gasp of surprise forces him to turn around. 

Their eyes meet, Jack can see the tears that slipped from her eyes, have been firmly wiped away, and a surge of conflicting emotions swirl inside of him-a feeling of protectiveness and anger at the thought of unknown actions hurting Luke, guilt for eavesdropping, and an overwhelming desire to comfort Sadie, but all he does is stand frozen, staring at her. 

“Jeez Jack you scared me!” Sadie says 

Jack hesitates, searching his mind for a response. Does he confess, does he tell her he overheard her? He wonders. He slightly shakes his head before settling on a response “Sorry, I uh I had to put my keys away, and uh my mom wanted me to tell you dinners here” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there in a second” The previous quiver in her voice is a distant memory, as she replies. 

Jack nods slowly, attempting to regroup himself, before he slowly treads down the stairs.

Jack makes his way to the kitchen, rummaging for a bottle of water.

He finds one and begins taking slow sips, when Sadie, slips into the kitchen, planting her feet next to his, and turning on the sink faucet. 

Jack’s eyes wander in her direction, catching a quick glance. Sadie notices and replies with a friendly smile as she dries her hands on a nearby hand towel, and moves towards the open pizza boxes with a plate. 

She reaches in and places two slices of pepperoni pizza onto her plate, stacking one on top of another, before using the plastic tongs to add a handful of salad. After grabbing a fork and napkin, she walks towards the crowded couch and takes a seat next to Luke. 

Jack remains quiet the entire time, slowly watching from the counter, before following her actions and making his way to the couch, he sits next to Trevor, listening in to the ongoing conversation surrounding college, as he slowly indulges in his dinner. 

Most of the group, with the exception of Sadie, have finished their dinner by the time Trevor makes a controversial comment -in a room full of Michigan and hockey fans- about Boston University, a school he spent two years at. “Listen Michigan is great but BU 100% produces more star NHL players” 

Quinn’s face drops in an exaggerated response, “Jack please tell him to leave” Quinn insists, struggling to keep a straight face. 

Laughter ripples through the room in response.

Quinn manages to pull off a pretty solid poker face as he says “I’m serious” 

“So am I” Trevor remarks with a grin, and a slight shrug of his shoulders

Josh shakes his head, “There is nothing BU can do better than Michigan” 

“Mhm I disagree, hockey, academics, parties” Trevor claims 

Josh opens his mouth to disagree “Michigan parties are legendary” He begins.

“Michigan is better than BU at everything, and out all the options that’s the one you choose” Jack comments, because it’s not like Michigan has been ranked the #1 NCAA hockey program for the last six years, or consistently been in the top 30 for best academics or anything like that. 

Quinn and Josh exchange a playful look, before simultaneously answering yes. 

Ellen and Jim shake their heads, with a small laugh, as Luke rolls his eyes and Jack smacks his lips together in an audible response. 

“You know one time Quinn and I were at this party” Josh begins before being cut off by a somewhat hard punch to the shoulder by Quinn 

“Shut it” Quinn insists 

Most of the group laughs.

“Alright guys I think we’re going to turn in” Ellen tells the younger crew as her and Jim begin standing “Don’t do anything dangerous, and whatever happened at that party Quinn please take it to the grave” Ellen jokes as she walks towards the hallway

Once the parents are completely out of earshot, Josh continues “Can I finish my story” 

“Didn’t you hear my mom she said take it to the grave” Quinn argues 

Luke chimes in “Oh come on I wanna know” 

“Ya it’s funny come on” Josh tries

Quinn looks between his kid brother and his best friend before replying “No”

Luke continues to try and reason with him “Come on, You never tell me” “I’m not gonna tell mom and dad” “Please Sadie and I will literally be there in like two months” 

Jack’s eyes trickle towards Sadie, as Luke mentions her name, her presence somewhat forgotten through the bubbling conversation.

His thoughts are a jumbled mess. Should he confront her about what he heard? Maybe he should try to comfort her instead. Or maybe it's better if he just leaves it alone?

But before he can figure out what to do, Luke loudly grumbles, snapping Jack back into reality.

Another wave of laughter ripples throughout the room, as the conversation shifts seamlessly, abandoning the topic of Michigan, at least for the moment, before they decide to settle down and watch a movie. 

They search through various streaming services, debating between watching, action, sci-fi, or comedy. 

“No more alien stuff, Luke! We get it, you want to meet E.T.,” Josh teases, flicking through the science fiction offerings with the remote, only to be met with playful groans from the group.

"What about 21 Jump Street?" Luke asks 

"Ya no" Jack answers 

"How about a comedy?" Quinn suggests

"21 Jump Streets a comedy" Luke mutters, earning a subtle look from Quinn, before refocusing on the screen.

“Oh, come on, something with some punches!” Trevor eggs on, eyes lighting up as he spots 'Goon' in the streaming library.

"They have Hot Tub Time Machine" Josh suggests 

With each suggestion, counter-arguments volley around the room until eventually receiving majority approval for the hockey-themed comedy Goon, which follows the story of a bouncer who basically turns into a hockey enforcer/fighter. 

"Goon it is," Josh declares, hitting play as everyone settles deeper into their respective cushions and chairs, and an anticipatory silence spreads as the screen comes to life.

The silence only lasts about 15 minutes, because none of them, know how to keep their mouths shut during a fucking movie, like when Doug Glatt stumbles onto the ice for his first practice, Trevor's jab — "Look, it's Quinn!" — is a catalyst for a burst of laughter, Quinn’s mock outrage only fueling the fun.

"Jack can you please make him leave!" Quinn begs

"Fuck no" Jack insists causing the rest of the group to laugh 

"Then just shut up and watch the movie" Quinn huffs toward Trevor 

Or during Doug's first game, when Luke quips "And I thought Bambi on ice was just a Disney thing" 

During a slow-motion sequence of a well-executed check "Figure skater right there"

And so on and so forth, as they're unrestrained voices follow the ups and downs on screen.

At one point the movie reaches maximum goriness when Doug, engages in a brutal fight with an opponent, and the room erupts in a mixture of gasps and chuckles, the line between horror and amusement blurring.

Jack's gaze drifts to Sadie, where she and Luke are whispering to each other in hushed tones. 

He turns his attention back to the movie, trying to shake off the negative feelings creeping up on him.

During another scene, Luke jumps at a particularly raucous fight , "Holy shit! Did you see that punch?"

Laughter erupts, and all eyes fall towards Luke, except for Jack's which find Sadie again, he can't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at him, knowing something about Sadie that Luke doesn't, even if she doesn't know he knows. 

His mind is a silent turmoil for the remainder of the movie, the group’s laughter and heckling fading into a background static against his internal dissonance, until eventually, the movie's closing credits begin rolling and the reaction is satisfying stretches and yawning from the group.

Josh, who had been animated throughout, rises and announces "I'm hitting the sack, guys," his eyelids heavy. The room hums with goodnights as he disappears up the stairs.

Quinn, as always the responsible one begins gathering empty plates, and throws them in the trash before heading upstairs. 

Trevor and Luke, their energy seemingly boundless, launch into a spirited debate about who would make the better hockey player enforcer, even if we know the answer, but their banter echos off the walls until they too concede to the call of sleep, trekking upstairs.

With the room now emptied Sadie and Jack find themselves momentarily alone, the stillness stark in contrast to the evening's livelyness. Sadie lingers around the kitchen, wiping down the counter with a quiet grace. Jack's mind spirals the secret nudging at his tongue, demanding release. He inhaled, ready to break the silence, and say something but Luke's sudden re-entry halts him mid-breath.

"Forgot my phone," Luke says, swiping it from the coffee table. "You coming, Sadie?" 

"Yep, be right there," she replies, tossing the last of her garbage in the trash can

With a final nod and a half-hearted smile in Jack's direction, she departs to the sound of Luke's receding footsteps. The room was silent now, save for the echoes of what had been left unsaid. Jack let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his newfound burden grounding him to the couch.

He was alone. His sigh hangs in the air, a fog of unresolved tension as he stands, flicking off the lights and making his way toward the stairs. The day had ended, they made it to the lake, and now he's going to bed with more questions than he came with. 

Lying there, staring at the ghostly shadows dancing across the ceiling, Jack knows he won't be able to stop wondering about Sadie's secret until he gets answers, and he just hopes whatever secret she's hiding doesn't end up destroying his younger brother. 

A/N I hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me in any asks!

[mariacallous]

It was the literary scandal of the decade, the ultimate betrayal and, it turned out, the end of Truman Capote’s career. Published in Esquire in November 1975, “La Côte Basque 1965”, an excerpt from Capote’s then-forthcoming novel Answered Prayers, saw the celebrated writer share the innermost secrets (and most scandalous gossip) entrusted to him by his beloved Swans, the wealthy and glamorous group of high-society women that included Babe Paley, Slim Keith, Gloria Guinness, Lee Radziwill, Marella Agnelli and CZ Guest.

Visceral in its revelations of substance abuse, sexual assault, a murder cover-up, a graphic description of extra-marital period sex and, to top it off, bestiality, the article was a sensation for all the wrong reasons. It saw Capote deserted by his closest friends and shunned from the New York clique he had yearned to be a part of growing up – and, against the odds, had managed to infiltrate as an adult thanks to the success of his novels In Cold Blood and Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Capote’s questionable actions (and the irresistible drama they precipitated) form the backbone of Ryan Murphy’s long-awaited Feud, inspired by Laurence Leamer’s bestselling 2021 book, Capote’s Women. An all-star cast will bring the man and his muses back to life when the Gus Van Sant-directed series premieres this month on FX in the US, but what was the real-life fallout from the publication of “La Côte Basque 1965” like for Capote and co?

“He never recovered from it,” says Ebs Burnough, director of the 2021 documentary The Capote Tapes, a five-year discovery project that saw him uncover hours of audio footage of Capote, and which gives the most thorough insight into the flawed figure to date. “[These were] friendships born and nurtured over 20-something years. All of a sudden, not one but all of his friends – who had been like his family, because he didn’t really have any family – were not speaking to him; there was literally nowhere for him to go. He was alone drinking, and the phone stopped ringing. He was a man alone on an island.”

Described by the New York Times as “the high-society temple of French cuisine”, La Côte Basque – just off Fifth Avenue and a stone’s throw from The Plaza – was a fine-dining eatery as famous for its juicy gossip as it was for its succulent Coeur de Filet Périgourdine. No one, however, dared to write about what was said and done there – until Capote. While his ostracising may seem like an obvious consequence for spilling society’s sordid secrets, Capote was flawed by the outrage.

Before publication, he boasted to People that he was planning on assassinating his characters with a pen instead of a gun: “There’s the handle, the trigger, the barrel, and, finally, the bullet. And when that bullet is fired from the gun, it’s going to come out with a speed and power like you’ve never seen – wham!”

Success was, in his head, assured, as Capote had been open about writing “La Côte Basque 1965”, bragging about the stories he would tell, continues Burnough. “He was working on that piece for over 20 years, so in his mind he didn’t anticipate the fall out because all of them knew he was working on it.” Upon the outrage, Capote was, “totally abandoned but also indignant”, he continues. “He even said, ‘Hey! What did they expect from me? I’m a writer!’”

Capote had form. “Remember, this was something he had done with Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” explains Burnough. “When you think about it, Holly Golightly is essentially a call girl, yet with Audrey Hepburn [playing her], and because it was so beautifully written, lots of New York socialites were saying, ‘Holly was based on me!’ There’s [even] a quote in The Capote Tapes where Babe’s daughter [Kate] says, ‘Mummy was so excited to be immortalised by such a famous author.’ So, I think he was certainly expecting great praise.”

Babe Paley was Capote’s most aggrieved victim of “La Côte Basque 1965”. In it, Slim Keith’s alias, Lady Ina Coolbirth, reveals to the fictionalised version of Capote, PB Jones, the story that Paley is said to have told Capote about catching her husband, CBS head Bill, in bed with another woman. When Capote rang the Paley household to see what they thought of “La Côte Basque”, Bill is said to have lied, claiming that it was thrown out before either of them could read it; a distraught Babe, who had read it, and who considered Capote her closest confidante, had terminal lung cancer at the time of its publication and never spoke to Capote again before her death in 1978.

Such dismissal of his work would have affected Capote, says Burnough, but the fallout from the Swans leaving him would have been even worse. “Babe Paley was his North Star. She was everything he aspired to be and everything his mother aspired to be. [His mother] had always wanted to be a socialite, so his obsession came from her wanting but not being a part of that world, and then abandoning him as a child. There’s a lot of mother psychology there.”

It makes total sense that Babe Paley was the victim of Capote’s worst betrayal, says Lisa Pomerantz, the New York-based brand expert with a lifelong obsession with Capote and his era of social commentators. “She was the one that opened up the most to him. He took total advantage of her because the others – Lee Radziwill, CZ Guest [et al] – were always more guarded,” she says. “The question is, did he do it knowingly? He was a tortured soul, mostly because of his relationship with his mother – that combined with his natural obsession with this aspirational life and Babe and Bill being the epitome of it.”

Having been sent from New Orleans to Alabama to be raised by relatives after his parents’ divorce, Capote is said to have been a lonely, introverted child searching for a sense of belonging. So why, having infiltrated the glitzy New York scene as a bonafide player, did he blow it all up?

In tandem with craving acceptance, psychologist Carolyn Mair muses that, deep down, Capote resented the world he had managed to become a part of. “People warmed to him and wanted to protect him as he projected an identity of both child and woman, yet his wit could be razor sharp. His ability to remember conversations verbatim made him a good source of gossip,” she says. “Yet as his psychological problems worsened, it seems reasonable to assume that his judgement also worsened.” Shocking others, she adds, “can also be a way of getting attention”.

The backlash from other circles would also have been keenly felt by Capote, continues Mair. “The Swans were the high society who lived aspirational lives and were the envy of women across the States and elsewhere,” she says. “Ordinary people would have read about these women and their lifestyles in the press and fashion magazines and would relate to them as if they were also their friends. The publication of ‘La Côte Basque 1965’ would likely have triggered a shocked sense of betrayal amongst the readers of popular and fashion press at the time.”

Perhaps the most interesting upshot of the “La Côte Basque 1965” scandal, though? The ways in which it laid the groundwork for tabloid culture, says Burnough. “This was an era [in America] when no one even talked about the fact that Franklin Roosevelt was in a wheelchair, let alone the affairs people were having, let alone as graphically as Truman did. As the late, great John Richardson said, ‘[Capote] took the lid off a pile of shit’ and it started the exposé culture we have today. It was a real ‘gotcha!’ moment for the rich and famous.”