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A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.
When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.
It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.
Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?
Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.
It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.
I stabbed him with his own pencil.
I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)
That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?
The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.
This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”
I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.
By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.
I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.
All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”
“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”
Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.
Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”
My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.
After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.
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A Much Needed Interview (OP81)
(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.
“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.
‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.
“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”
“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”
“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”
“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time.
“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”
“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.
“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.
“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”
“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.
“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”
“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”
“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”
“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”
“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”
“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”
“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.
“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”
“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”
The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family.
Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.
Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.
“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.
“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?”
In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.
Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.
#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#op81 fluff#op81 imagine#op81 x reader
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Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.
I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.
First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.
That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra’s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.
By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.
Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?
#house of the dragon#hotd hbo#hotd#alicent hightower#pro alicent hightower#pro alicent stans#ser criston#ser criston cole#pro criston cole#alicent x criston#alicole#team green#pro team green#anti team black stans#anti team black#anti rhaenyra stans#anti rhaenyra targaryen#anti daemyra#anti daemon targaryen
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Beckham II: 3 Nerves
The third part is finally here! I hope you enjoy.
Masterlist can be found here.
9th February 2023
“Breaking news this lunch time, Sarina Weigman had named her squad for the Arnold Clark cup and included in the squad for the first time in nearly 4 years is Y/N Beckham.” England squads weren’t typically breaking news on the main news channels but this was no ordinary squad announcement. “Widely considered as one of the best players on the planet, Beckham has not been including in an England squad since the 2019 World Cup and her return dominated the press conference.”
Squad announcement press conferences are usually comminated by a few stories, the surprise inclusions, the ones who don’t quite make the cut. However when the list was read out it was immediately clear what all the questions would be about today as the eyes of world football turned to Sarina.
“Sarina can you tell us more about Beckham’s inclusion? Why has this decision been taken now after 4 years?”
“I know you’re all probably very interested in that so I’ll try and answer all of your questions. This hasn’t been a simple process for either party, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been watching her since I became England manager but it’s not that simple and we had to respect the fact that Y/N did not want to be called up. Over the past few weeks I’ve been working closer with her and we’ve agreed that now is the right time to see if we can make progress.”
“The squad has changed a lot since then but there are still players who would were in the squad in 2019, have you spoken to them about this?”
“I have not, I’d like to think that all players support each other and I know my players well enough to know that they will do all they can to make Y/N feel welcome in this environment both on and off the pitch.”
“Do you have any concerns around her desire to play for England and play for the badge. Will she have lost that fight in the past four years?”
“I can not prove that to you and I guess none of us will know the answer until she plays for England again but I would not pick any player I had those concerns about. I’ve watcher her play a lot for Barcelona and over this past year especially I’ve seen a freedom to her play. I just hope that we can all see that side of her in an England shirt.”
“David, were you shocked when the announcement was made?”
“I mean obviously we spoke about prior to the announcement but when she told me I wasn’t exactly shocked. It just annoyed me that people questioned her mentally because she is so strong now.”
…..
Everyone could tell you were anxious. Since the announcement on Thursday you’d been quieter than usual in training, your usual sweet laughter which your teammates loved had been replaced by a strained giggle and they could see you’d been putting pressure on yourself in every department.
Everything had to be perfect.
In the four days since your decision had been made public you’d received support from all your teammates but you could see they were also worried. Many of them had been here when you joined, they’d seen the aftermath and many of them had been your shoulder to lean on for months after.
Many of them watched on now as you retreated into your room, barely giving a second glance to the games currently taking place in the dining room, a tradition you were a usual member of the night before an away game.
Alexia and Mapi had noticed the changes just like everyone else, the three of you had a strong connection both on and off the pitch. Alexia had become an older sister figure to you and Mapi was your platonic soul mate. They knew your habits unlike anyone else and when the notebook you used for anxious tattoo scribblings had been out the entire journey to Mallorca it was clear your mind was elsewhere.
“You grab the pillows.”
“I’ll grab the blankets.”
The two of them scurried off to their own rooms, finding their entrusted items before meeting back at the door which they knew you would be behind. You wouldn’t have gone outside, your shy nature meant you struggled to have confidence in new cities, preferring to explore with others rather than alone as the sun went down.
Alexia knocked on the door, a moment of panic striking as they thought you weren’t going to answer before the door creaked open. Your wide-eyed figure stood in the crack, still in the tracksuit you’d travelled in rather than pyjamas.
“What’s going on?” The tree of you quite often spent the nights in each other’s hotel rooms, though those meetings were usually pre-planned.
Only you knew from the worried expressions on their faces this wasn’t a call to watch the latest film that had been released. “We’re worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
You should have known that answer was never going to satisfy them. “Please can we come in.”
It wasn’t even worth trying to persuade them, not really. “Sure.” They couldn’t miss the sigh you let out as the door swung open. “Make yourself comfy.”
In the matter of minutes you’d gone from sprawling over the double bed alone to shuffling between the two players, being welcomed into the arms of Alexia as the three of you shuffled under the duvet.
“We’re worried about you.” MarÍa admitted, smoothing down the hair draped around your face. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure because I bet if we looked in that notepad we’d find more anxious doodles than before. You’ve barely spoken two words to anyone since the news broke out.”
“I read an article-“
“Didn’t I tell you to stop that.” Alexia scolded you. “Those journalists don’t know anything about you.”
“But they don’t know that.” You argued back. “They’ll be reading about how ‘cocky’ I am on and off the pitch, how I flaunt my money, how I think I ‘own the team’.”
“If they believe that then they really have no eyes. Then they’ll see how you’re one of the shiest players on the team, they’ll learn how you could live in mansion but donate so much money to charity, they’ll see how much you work on the team as a whole. You do everything for football and they need to see that.”
“If they don’t love the person they’ll come to know then that’s on them.” Alexia agreed with her.
“Are you sure this isn’t about a certain blonde centre back?” MarÍa teasingly questioned you. “Maybe this isn’t about you being nervous about the articles and more about going into gay panic around Miss Williamson.”
“I told you that in confidence that you’d never bring it up again.” It was true, a few years ago you had confided in the two of them that you used to have a small (very large) crush on Leah at the time.
“And I’m tired of you being the third wheel in our flat, you’ve rejected every opportunity for me to set you up with one of my friends so now I have to think that it’s because you’re still pining for the girl.”
“I’m not pining for anyone, it was a stupid crush which has gone in the four years that I haven’t spoken to the girl.”
“Would you like to speak to her again?” Alexia asked.
“I mean obviously I’m going to have to, she’s the captain of the team.”
“Message her now.”
“No.”
“Why not?” I could only think of a million reasons why I wasn’t about to do that.
“Because like I said, I haven’t spoken to her in nearly four years and it would be weird for me to just message her the night before we see each other again.”
“So lets role play it then, you walk into the hotel tomorrow and she’s there, what are you going to say?” Alexia asked the question you’ve been asking yourself all week.
“Hi.”
Both of them looked like they wanted to tear out both their own and your hair. “Ok you can’t just say that.”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“How are you? Ask her about her life?”
“You want me to speak to the girl for the first time in years and ask her basically how she’s been since we went from speaking every day to unfollowing each other on social media and avoiding any chance of meeting since then.” You needed better friends in situations like this. “I’m not going heavy on our first conversation.”
“You will need to talk about.”
“I know but it’s not just her I need to have that conversation with, I was close with a lot of them and now I’m not. They should be just as involved in that conversation as Leah is.”
“Maybe you could design her a little tattoo, something like ‘I love Y/N’ on her forehead.” MarÍa teased you. “Matches your ‘I love Leah’ on your chest.”
“Shut up, just so you know I’ll never stop cockblocking you and Ingrid, I’ll be round for tea when I get back.”
“Bonnie told me she wants to live with me all the time by the way, said something about her mum abandoning her.”
“Fuck off MarÍa.”
….
The first person to reach out to you wasn’t exactly someone you expected. Mary Earps wasn’t exactly in your friendship group back in 2019, though because she was a part of that squad she was one of the players who you unfollowed in the following unfortunate events. You definitely therefore were not expecting to see her name pop up as you made your way through the airport, heading out to the car which would take you back to your parents’ house before you headed to the team hotel later on in the evening.
@1maryearps: See you later mate, we can’t wait to have you back x
Your emotions were so all over the place that maybe you should have expected this simple message to bring tears to your eyes. Maybe that meant you’d have at least one person on your side tonight.
You spent most of the meal with parents and siblings trying to do anything to avoid the thoughts about what was happening tonight coming back. You spoke to Harper about her homework, Cruze about his latest holiday and Romeo about his girlfriend. Brooklyn could almost sense your nervousness and kept up the conversation, which was all fine until you had to leave.
They knew how big this moment was and each gave you an individual goodbye before you got back into the car. As much as you would have liked to have taken your dad’s offer to drive you, this was all about being normal and being drove by David Beckham didn’t really give off that vibe.
You’d made this drive a million times before, only this time it seemed to take half the time and before you knew it the doors to St George’s Park were in view.
The only person in view was a single man holding a video camera, obviously preparing for the players’ arrivals This was hard and yet you knew this was probably the easiest step, he didn’t know you. You got out from the car, flashing a small smile to the camera as it trained on your every move, making sure to say a thank you to the driver, you turned to head inside.
“How are you feeling Y/N?” The camera man asked.
“Excited.” You couldn’t exactly tell him you were shaking inside. “I can’t wait to be back with this amazing team.”
“Two goals from you today….”
“All thanks to my teammates.” It was only the truth, you were basically set up for both goals by Aitana, you couldn’t do anything but put them in the back of the net.
“Good luck.”
“Thank you very much.”
If you were known for one thing it would be your punctuality, in fact you almost had a fear of being late. Maybe you’d done it on purpose this time to avoid greeting teammates in front of the camera but you were the first here judging by the table in the reception area being full of keys.
“Y/N it’s good to finally meet you in person.” Anja, one of the members of the England management team greeted you. “I hope you’re feeling well.”
“I’m glad to be here,” You settled for that. “I can’t wait to get back on that pitch now.”
“Well we’re glad to have you here. Here’s your key, we’ll meet in the dining area for a quick debrief at 8 and then you’ll have the night to yourself. Training schedules for the week are in your key pack.”
“Thank you.”
This place hadn’t changed one bit, from the entrance all the way up to your rooms you could trace the steps without even looking. You could hear noise out in the corridor but you stayed put, waiting for the clock to tick to 7:50 before making your way downstairs. With it being ten minutes early no one was there but Sarina and the coaching staff. Could this technically count as your first impression to them?
Their eyes trained on you as you entered the room. “Hey, thank you once again.”
“Stop saying thank you, this is all on you.” Sarina instructed, giving you a firm yet welcoming hug, an action which was repeated by the others. “Go and take a seat.”
“Thank-“ Maybe not. “Ok Sarina.”
You didn’t really know what to expect from the others, the squad was definitely a mixture of youth and experience. However even some of the more established players like Alessia and Ella were unknown to you on a personal level.
Thankfully maybe the first ones in were some of the younger players, Jess Park and Ebony Salmon were both the epitome of excitement as they entered the room saying a quick hello to the staff before slightly pausing when they found me sat on the first row.
“Hi.” You knew it was on you to make the effort. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Jess said taking the seat next to me. “You’re killing it at Barcelona.”
“Thank you, I’ve enjoyed watching you play this season. You’ll be an asset at city when you return.” You loved studying young players and watching their development. Jess was no difference in that, plus it helped to build up that connection on the team.
The volume in the room increased as more players entered. Some like Laura Coombs and Katie Zelem gave you a quick smile before taking their seats, other youngsters gave you a quick welcome.
The first real re-introduction you had was when Millie and Rachel entered, your eyes instantly connecting and it was Rachel who led the two of them over. You had always loved the two of them and almost let out a sigh of relief when they both greeted you with hugs, repeating how glad they were to see you. Lucy and Jordan followed suit, the two of them messing about and pulling you into a tight hug before taking their seats.
It was however the final people to enter the room that you were the most nervous about. Maybe you should have been thankful that when Keira, Georgia and Leah entered the room the meeting was about to start and all you could do was send a glancing look their way before Sarina had eyes on her.
She went through the logistics, just like happens every time before she got into the depths of the squad. “It would seem like this is the squad for reintroducing yourself. Laura hasn’t been with us since 2020 and Y/N in 2019. We just want everyone to remember that they’re here for a reason and we all play for England, we’re all a team.”
You blocked everything else out, vaguely scribbling down on your phone some notes about the timings and rooms you were needed in but it was all a bit of a blur. You took your time at the end speaking to some of the other girls, no-one seemed to be making a huge fuss about the situation but the trio had disappeared again and you knew you had to speak to them tonight before this started to interfere with the rest of the camp.
Thankfully you managed to find them, the three of them tucked away in the corner of the dining room, huddled around a laptop playing something in German.
“Hey.” Your voice almost cracked as you broke through the silence. “It’s good to see you all.”
You should have predicted really that Keira and Georgia would be your road in, though the two of them were fierce on the pitch they really were softies off it and you were almost knocked off your feet when they bounded up to you, both their arms wrapping around you in a hug.
“We can’t believe you’re actually here.” Georgia said. “This is just crazy.”
“It’s definitely different.” Leah finally joined in and that was the moment you knew even as she joined in the hug, she was the one who would be the toughest to crack. She wasn’t going to let you in just as easy but the captain part of her probably forced her to not let it show around others. “Glad to have you back on the team.”
“Thank you.”
“Take a seat.” Keira glanced to the free chair next to Leah. “We were just watching Georgia make a fool of herself, want to join?”
“Yeah I’d like that, I’d like that a lot.”
#woso#woso imagines#woso imagine#woso x reader#beckham#barcelona femeni#lionesses#woso fanfics#woso community#leah williamson#engwnt#lionesses x reader#lionesses imagine
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Ding dong, here’s the final chapter! I have an epilogue in mind so that may come later, but for now, Thanks so so much for the response to this series and Enjoy!
Ch1 Ch2 Ch3
[talking] [talking passes]
Gai: You knew right away, didn’t you? Kka: Correct. I knew something was wrong when you weren’t trying to do situps or anything..... You little criminal, who smuggled that in for you? Gai: Naruto
Kks: How did you get him to do that? /I/ cant even get Naruto to do things. The tear tracks and shit eating grin are cute. Kinda wanna kiss you. Gai: Don’t let me be a hindrance to-
Gai: What are you giggling about? Kks: I just remembered
Kks: I get to hold over your head that I held mirai before you. Gai: You what?! Your first baby hold and I missed it? Get off of me Kks: So mean! Near death made you crabby. Gai: I won’t give into this Kks: You will, you always succumb. [gai sighs annoyed]
Gai: [Groans] When are they making you swear in as hokage? Kks: That’s not happening anymore thankfully. Gai: Huuuh?? Tenzou didn’t tell me that!
Gai: He said Lady Tsunade was retiring and you were the only choice. Naruto even tried to- Kks: Where do you think i’ve been all day? I convinced her to hold out until Naruto or whoever took over next. Gai: How did you smooth talk that one? Kks: I agreed to do her paperwork and cover for when she needs R&R. I also advised her to ditch the elders so she can actually run this shit show right. Gai: And they... took that well? The elders? Kks: No, not at all. Let’s just say I said some... things that made them backtrack on their decision.
Gai: YOu cant just say that and not tell me now!! I gotta know! Kks: Well... Homura: Absolutely not! Kks: If I am appointed, I’ll be replacing you regardless. Naruto certainly will. It’s inevitable. Koharu: Those kids don’t know how this village runs!
Kks:Those kids just won your war and this is how you speak of them. Or are “those kids“ only respectable to you when they’re eager to die at your beckon call and shut up. Elders: How dare- Watch your tongue! Kks: I won’t be someone who you can walk all over. Things will change. Just so my intentions are clear
Gai: What next?! Kks: That’s is really. Kinda tuned the rest out and passed out for 3 hours. Gai: Rival, I was so invested Kks: Sorry Gai: So you agreed to essentially split the work of a hokage but not publicly take the title? Kks: Mhm Gai: So cool! Apologies, I had just assumes since you were gonna accept last time Kks:[hums] Things changed. Konoha’s not on the brink of war, Tsunade’s still here. The village can breathe and rebuild now.
Kks: After a glimpse of the hassle and public attention the last time, I’m just... Not interested in any of that. I’ve never dreamed or desired to be the hokage. That was always something others wanted /for/ me. So I said no. I know you were happy for me so- Gai: Kakashi
Gai: I’m so very proud of you for expressing how you truly feel. You and tsunade will do amazing work supporting the next generation. Even If you chose to retire today, I’d still be just as proud of you. Also a selfish part of me if happy to have more time with you. [kks huffs]
Kks: I’m proud of you too, y’ know. All your hard work, you’re fucking incredible. Glad my dad made me talk to the cool kid in the green jumpsuit. 2nd coolest shinobi. Gai: Only took 25 years, but I’ve finally caught your eye! Kks: Yup, let’s move in together.
Gai: WHAT?1 Whu-! Kks: I’m fixing up dad’s old house with Tenzou. you should live there with me Gai: Why? Kks: Why are yo suspicious? I’m serious. Space, accessibility for you... I want you around more. Gai: Ok Kks: Ok? Gai: An exciting change is just what my youthful journey needs!! Kks: So yes?
Gai: I would love to share a home with you, Rival [kks giggling] What now?
Kks: Did I just make you succumb, Gai-kun? Gai: When can we have a match next, I need to consensually slap you in the head [kks laughs] Why did you say it like that? Kks: I’m sorry! Your pout looks so cute.... You are still moving in with me, right? That wasnt a joke.
Gai: I’m gonna let you sweat on that one awhile... [whimpers]
Kks: Love you so much, Gai
[gai snoring]
[gai snoring]
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If you’re still taking requests then I have one 😊
Could you please write a scenario where Sebastian goes home for the Christmas holiday to make amends with Anne and Solomon (before shit happens) and he leaves Ominis and Female MC alone. They finally get to spend time alone together for once and find they have a lot more in common than rheu previously thought (they go on walks, study in the library, hang out in the undercroft) and Ominis who already had a secret little crush on her but always thought that Sebastian kinda had a claim on her, starts falling very hard and he finally decides to do something about it. Maybe they’re hanging out in the undercroft one night and he spontaneously kisses her. I would adore if you could take this into NSFW territory, I’d love the awkward yet sensual first-time sex between them if you could (and as much as I love him, please no Dominis, I want the sweet boy we meet in the game) ♥️
A.N: Thank you for this request! I absolutely adored writing this, so precious 🥹 I hope you enjoy! Also thank you to everyone else who sent a request, I'm trying to get through all of them now that I'm on break and have more time 🫶
You Drew Stars
f!MC x Ominis Gaunt - NSFW/Fluff - 5.6k words
Summary: After Sebastian leaves the castle to spend winter break in Feldcroft, Ominis' sentiments for his friend slowly begin to stretch past the bounds of what's platonically appropriate...
Tags: "Un"requited Love, Pining, Miscommunication, Loss of Virginity, First-Times, Friends to Lovers, Supportive Friend Sebastian Sallow
The library was empty as Ominis meandered his way through towards the back shelves, most of the other students having gone home for winter break. To his satisfaction, the few who had stayed didn’t share any habits of curling up with a book an hour before curfew.
He made his way to the old, royal purple chaise that he usually sat in towards the back corner of the establishment, tucked just behind a shelf on holistic gardening that no one ever frequented. He stilled when he noticed someone already there, the quiet sound of pages turning alerting him of their presence.
“Hey, Ominis,” She glanced up when she heard him approach and eyed the book in his hand curiously. “Some light reading before bed?”
“Oh, it’s you,” He scratched the back of his neck. “I was, but I think I’ll just head back to—”
“Don’t be silly,” She tucked herself towards one side of the lounge and patted the seat directly beside her. “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”
“It’s fine, really, you were here first—”
She sighed. “Will you just sit down?”
He shifted nervously in his place for a moment before finally coming to some decision and making his way towards her to take a seat. The chaise sat two people comfortably, albeit a bit cramped, their arms brushing every time either of them turned a page.
She didn’t seem to mind. Unfortunately, he didn’t possess the same level of indifference, a faint flush of pink creeping up his neck from beneath his white Oxford when she crossed her legs and her thighs brushed against his.
After finishing up her chapter, she reached over to tilt the front cover of his book towards her, her curiosity getting the best of her. She was awfully forward, if not borderline rude. He tried to disguise the fact he liked it.
“Brontë?” Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Developed a rebellious streak, have you, Ominis?”
“Something like that,” He mused. “Though, I suppose there are better ways to defy my parents.”
“Oh, certainly. If you spent more time with me you’d have a plethora of creative ideas by now,” She grinned. “Not that sneaking around reading Muggle literature isn’t an admirable offense, of course.”
He breathed out a laugh. “You make an enticing offer, I have to admit.”
“What can I say, I’m enticing.”
Overwhelmingly, he thought.
He accompanied her to her dorm room afterwards and tried to wipe the stupid, dreadful smile on his face the entire walk back to his own.
They fell into a simple sort of routine.
Even though they had already fit into some category of the word friends, it had never been in the same way that she was with Sebastian. The more he got to know her, the more he wondered why he hadn’t done so sooner. She was absolutely brilliant.
He quickly learned she was just as much of a night owl as he was, often walking into the common room to find her already curled up on one of the wingback chairs in front of the fireplace, waiting for him.
She’d lay out a rotating selection of Muggle literature and make him pick one for her to read to him, even if he insisted he could just cast a simple dictation spell or transfigure a copy in braille.
He quickly found his particular favorite was Jane Austen, to which she teased him relentlessly for being a bleeding heart romantic. Gods, she had no idea.
She introduced him to Mary Shelley, which he enjoyed just as much, although he posited he’d grow to appreciate just about anything as long as it was her reading it to him.
It was over steaming cups of earl gray in the common room and midday walks through the snow-crested forest that his inkling of a crush morphed into something else. Something more.
Feelings, he recognized rather ruefully, one late evening after she’d fallen asleep with her head pillowed on his lap in the common room.
Twisty, hot, almost nausea-inducing feelings. Overwhelming and nerve-wracking, but at the same time so unbelievably good, and warm, and sweet, because how could he feel anything else with her except pleasantries?
They were the kind where he found he wanted to do nothing more but stay in the private, simple routine they’d created for themselves, just the two of them. Wanted to keep living in the daydream he’d invented about their relationship, where sometimes she’d hug him goodnight a little too tightly, or sit a little too close, and it’d almost feel like she cared for him the same way he cared for her. Almost.
He ignored the guilty, nagging sensation in his gut about her relationship with Sebastian, and decided he’d let his delusions take him through the remainder of their holiday together.
//
Stretched out on the plush rug in front of the common room fireplace, he wrapped a hand around her ankle when she went to nudge him with a stockinged foot for the thirtieth time in the last five minutes.
“Quit it,” He didn’t glance up from where his fingers were combing over the braille in his open textbook. “You’re distracting me.”
“You’re not even studying anymore,” She wriggled her foot out of his hold and poked his thigh again in defiance. “You’re a terrible fake-reader, you know. You don’t even make your eyes move across the lines.”
“Hilarious,” He rolled his eyes, finally closing the book on his lap. “And maybe I’ve stopped studying because someone has been prodding me incessantly for the past half-hour.”
“My mental capacity has reached its limit for the night. And I’m starved,” She picked herself up from the floor, rolling her shoulders back in a stretch, before holding a hand out for him to take. “Come on, up. Let’s get something to eat.”
He waved his wand over his wristwatch. “It’s nearly one in the morning, where on earth are we going to get something to eat?”
Her lips curled into a smirk as she helped him to his feet. “I have my ways.”
He sighed a defeated breath as he let her tug him along. “Yes, I’m aware. I’m afraid that’s precisely my concern.”
//
“Gods, we’re going to be given twin concussions by a kitchen elf any second now. I hear Tilly’s got a particularly strong arm.” The glowing tip of Ominis’ wand cast the dark surroundings of the Hogwarts kitchens in a red hue. “Keep an eye out for any hurtling rolling pins, will you?”
“Will you stop worrying? It’s fine.” She huffed, sticking her head into one of the pantries of the kitchens before popping out a few moments later. “Apple or blueberry?”
“Both?”
She grinned, slipping back inside. “This is why we’re friends.”
“We’re friends? This is news to me.”
She narrowed her eyes at where he was poised at the doorway. “Keep talking like that and we’ll be enemies soon enough.”
“My biggest nightmare,” He teased. “I certainly would not want to get on your bad side.”
He followed her as she slipped past him out of the pantry with two magically-steaming pies in hand, making her way towards the exit of the kitchens.
“You’re certainly a lot smarter than Sebastian, then,” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You know what’s good for you.”
You’re good for me, he thought.
“Call it self-preservation.”
//
“How about dinner with a view?” She stopped at the bottom stairwell of the Astronomy tower, only pale moonlight and the dim, orange glow of the scattered wall sconces to illuminate the barren hallways they’d been treading through.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t really make a difference to me, all of my dinners are without a view.”
“Oh, look who’s all clever all of a sudden.” She rolled her eyes.
He grinned. “I’ve always been clever. Do keep up.”
She balanced the pie in her hands in one arm and took his hand with the other, beginning the long, meandering ascent to the upper tower platform.
Her fingers laced so nicely with his, as if they’d been carved to mold perfectly with his own. Smaller than his, but warm, and familiar. He reveled in the privilege of getting to touch her so freely, conscious of the fact this comfortableness would most likely end as soon as Sebastian was back from Feldcroft.
They sat cross-legged with their arms draped over the metal railing, tucking into their pies and trading spoonfuls of rich, syrupy goodness. It wasn’t as cold as a normal December night, but he cast periodic warming charms over them anyways and transfigured his jumper into a blanket that turned out only marginally big enough for the both of them.
They ate in comfortable, companionable silence and all that he could think about is how he wished he could do this always. In the summer, in the spring, in the fall. That this wasn’t something temporary, something that would be robbed from him in a few short weeks.
“Didn’t realize you were such a messy eater, Ominis.” She glanced up at him, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Where’s all that pureblood dining etiquette gone to?”
He rolled his eyes and went to feel around for a napkin, but she leaned forward instead. He sucked in a sharp breath as she braced a hand on his thigh and swiped her thumb over the side of his mouth, collecting remnants of blueberry jam, brushing over his bottom lip in a moment that seemed to stretch for an eternity, though in reality was brief and fleeting.
She sat back down in her seat, unphased, and popped the digit in her mouth, bottom teeth scraping over the pad of her thumb, sugar melting on her tongue.
His mouth felt terribly dry.
He swallowed down the sensation of longing with a spoonful of apple filling and flaky, golden crust.
Bellies full with ungodly amounts of pie, they laid beside each other on the too-small blanket, and Ominis tried to ignore the too-loud sound of his blood rushing in his ears, paired with the too-fast beating of his heart in his chest, and attempted to simply relax.
He closed his eyes and focused on something other than the consuming feeling of want prickling over his skin, setting his nerve-endings alight with the desire to touch and hold and caress. She wasn’t his to do any of those things with.
He focused on her soft, steady breathing. The rise and fall of her chest beside his.
“Merlin, it’s beautiful.” She murmured, a dazed quality to her voice.
“I’m sure it is.” He replied just as listless, though undoubtedly for other reasons.
She turned her head to face him. “Want me to describe it to you?”
He turned to face her as well and he was suddenly acutely aware of the feeling of her breath ghosting his cheek. She was so close. His voice was quiet. “Would you?”
She nodded. “Alright, close your eyes.”
He bit back a smile. “You’re such an idiot.”
She grinned. “Shut up and do it.”
He obliged with a disgruntled huff. Pleased, she turned back towards the scenery.
“It’s a full moon tonight, so everything has this almost…silver glow. Like the whole world’s been dipped in platinum.” She began.
He tried to picture it in his head, sheens of pale white cast over rolling hills and thick forest.
“You can see the entire lake from up here, never-ending and inky black, and juuust there, past the border of the forest—” She outstretched a hand. “—is Hogsmeade, with its little orange lights.”
She glanced sideways at him to see his eyes still closed, the softest smile brushing his lips.
She continued, “What’s really pretty though, is the stars. Too many to ever count. Enough to make your head dizzy, really.” She let out a laugh and he decided it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“Some are brighter than others, and you can make out little pictures in the night sky. Tonight, there’s Orion looking down on us,” She tilted her head, brows knitting together as she took a moment to study him. “Actually…”
He let out a startled breath when he felt her fingertips make contact with his cheek, dragging over his skin in feather-light touches, tracing the small smattering of beauty marks there.
“You bear a remarking similarity,” She ran her index softly between the points, connecting little invisible lines. “Right here.”
He swallowed hard. “Do I?”
“Mhm,” She hummed. “It’s awfully pretty.”
She hadn’t pulled her hand back. His skin buzzed with the sensation, because her fingertips were still there, on his cheek, touching him with a softness that he had never known before in his life, with a kindness that he was so unaccustomed to.
Gentle, repetitive drags, skin-on-skin, that same prickling sensation of want having grown into something almost painful inside of him. Bubbling and overwhelming, just underneath his flesh, his fingers twitching with the desire to reach out and feel.
He was conscious of how stupid it was, mind-numbingly so, but he couldn’t bear the aching tension in his chest any longer, and he knew of only one way to acquiesce his restless heart.
He cupped her own cheek in his hand, dipped his chin forward, and captured her lips in his.
Her fingers froze against his cheek, and he could feel the slight surprise in her body language, before it quickly morphed into something else, something accepting, something satisfied. As if she’d been longing just as desperately, had been waiting for this the same way he’d been.
Her hand dragged down to thread through the fine, blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to her, eliciting a sharp intake of air through his nose, settling all kinds of feelings deep behind his navel.
She parted her lips for him and he chased the syrupy taste of sugar on her tongue like he needed it to live, swallowed her quiet, breathy pants like mouthfuls of honey, sticky and saccharine and so overwhelmingly her he could drown in it.
She was so sweet, so soft, and far, far too perfect for his fantasies to have ever possibly done her justice.
When she finally broke away, he could feel her drowsy, sapless smile against his lips. He smiled back, just as giddy, an absolute fool, surely, but in the moment he couldn’t care less. He resisted the urge to dive back in. To run his tongue over her teeth and plead for more, because he knew he would most likely never get enough.
He was content then, just holding her. She tucked herself into his side, pillowed her head on his chest, and let him run his hands up and down her back. Let him bury his nose in the crown of her hair and revel in the feeling of having her there, feeling too much like his.
//
After that, their routine shifted into something else. Something unspoken, that didn’t really need any labels or clarifications, because it all fell into place like pieces of a puzzle. Normal and simple and easy and natural.
Because, of course he got to kiss her goodnight when he left her at her dorm room every evening. And it was only obvious that they’d lace their fingers together on their Sunday trips to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer, and sit on the same side of the booth instead of opposite each other like before. And why would she not drape her legs over his lap on that purple chaise in the library, or tuck herself into his side on that dusty, old loveseat in the Undercroft?
He wasn’t sure what he’d done to ever get so lucky, but he thanked Fortune herself every night he got to collect her in his arms and press lingering kisses to her forehead. It was an intoxicating feeling to have everything he wanted right there in his hands, soft and pliable and willing, so perfectly receptive to his touch, so eager to reciprocate with the same amount of fevered passion and affection.
Of course, there were levels of uncertainties to their relationship still. Questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask, out of fear of ruining everything. What are we and and for the love of Circe, tell me this means something to you, too poised on the tip of his tongue everytime she wrapped herself around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
There were boundaries, admittedly maybe only fictitious ones his own anxious brain fabricated, but ones nonetheless. He’d always ask her first before he kissed her, and she’d always respond with eager nods, blissful smiles, and her fingers curling into the front of his shirt to tug his mouth down to hers.
He adored kissing her. Maybe a bit too much. Alright, maybe alarmingly too much.
He’d spend eternity with his mouth on hers if he could, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He constantly craved the numb, bruised feeling of his lips after a particularly long makeout session. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, of being so intimate with her, of the soft and sweet and spit-sticky brushes of her tongue against his, of that aching, heated swirl he got just behind his navel.
She was bliss personified.
Crossing a leg over the other on that worn, tawny loveseat in the Undercroft, he skimmed through the pages of the paperback in his hand with his wand. A few feet away from him, she was reducing a couple training dummies into splinters of charred wood, spell after spell rolling off her tongue with ease.
His headstrong little witch. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at how powerful she was, admiration swelling in his chest.
After getting her fix of dueling for the day and craving attention, she made her way over to him, sitting beside him, although more accurately, practically sitting on top of him. Not that he minded.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up at him expectantly, and because he’d give her absolutely anything her little heart desired, he tucked his book away immediately and turned his focus towards her, pecking a kiss to her cheek. She smiled in satisfaction.
He had the tiniest inkling of a feeling that maybe he was spoiling her rotten. Not that he minded that, either.
“Tired?”
She shook her head. “Just missed you.”
He brushed the back of his knuckles against her cheek and couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth. “Did you now?”
She nodded, staring down at his lips as she leaned in to press her mouth against his. Simple and natural and easy. It was a wonder how normal it seemed, as if it was something they’d always done.
Her tongue brushed against his bottom lip, pleading for entrance, and of course he obliged, because who was he to deny her anything?
He could feel the little exhale of breath against his cheek as his tongue met hers, feel the way she instinctively pressed more against him as if she wanted to mold herself to his very bones.
He loved having her like this.
Eager and passion-filled, her magic thrumming in her veins with a little added intensity, reflected in the way she kissed him, in the way she touched him.
She broke away for air, but he couldn’t help the desire to have more. He trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, down the length of her neck. He’d never kissed her there and he found himself particularly interested in exploring. She positively melted under his ministrations.
“Ominis,” She sighed his name on a breathy pant and the sound coursed straight to his groin, tugging at that aching desire in his gut, that heated, twisty, starved feeling that was always there when he touched her, lingering someone hidden, nursing it into something insatiable.
She reconnected her mouth to his and stoked that flickering flame inside him until it was red-hot and all-consuming.
He tangled his fingers through her hair and explored her mouth with a deliberate slowness. Languid, syrupy drags of his tongue against hers. Hot, needy breaths shared in a space between them that was far too little and far too much at the same time.
A gasp died on his tongue when she shifted in her seat to press herself even more against him, effectively straddling his lap, impatience dripping down her spine. He went rigid.
“Hold on, don’t—” His fingers dug into her waist to still her, but she had already dragged her hips flush against his, right against that aching stiffness in his trousers. His face blanched, mortified. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
She held her bottom lip between her teeth, processing the feeling of him, a very specific part of him, pressed right to the gusset of her knickers, right under her skirt. It was like someone had stricken a match, lit her nerves on fire.
She shook her head, her cheeks hot. “Don’t apologize,” She smoothed her thumb over his cheek, reassuring. “I want you, too. I want this.” She shifted minutely, tentative, right against that throbbing part of him.
His brows knit together, looking almost pained. “Gods, you can’t say things like that.”
“It’s true,” She whispered, shifting against him again, deliciously slow. The slightest roll of her hips. It was enough to ruin him completely. “Please, Ominis.”
He nodded then, forehead pressed against hers, fists white-knuckled in the starched linen of her shirt. He let his hands fall to his sides, onto the tattered pillows of the loveseat and sighed.
“Not here.” He planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You deserve something nicer.”
//
Ominis’ dorm was certainly nicer.
Clean and tidy to the point of almost being manic, just as she imagined it would be. She glanced over at the surrounding beds and noticed his side strikingly bare in comparison, devoid of the clutter of Quidditch posters, junk and other memorabilia that you would normally expect to find in a teenage boy’s room.
His sheets were crisp and neatly-pressed, and laid back against his pillows, she could pick up the faint smell of vanilla and bergamot and, most strikingly, him.
He hovered over her there, his hands on either side of her head on the pillowcase, a pink flush dusting his cheekbones, uncertain. She found it awfully endearing.
“Have you ever…?”
He shook his head, sheepish. “No.”
She nodded.
A gnawing feeling clawed itself inside his chest, something marred and ugly and possessive, a jealousy he knew he probably had no right to feel. “Have…you?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
His brows furrowed, confusion and surprise and a faint sense of relief etched into his features. “Really? You and Sebastian never…?”
She sputtered. “Me and Sebastian?”
“Er…yes? I assumed you two had already been—”
“Dear gods, no,” She laughed, as if the mere notion were hysterical. She looked at him bewildered. “Where on earth did you ever get that impression?”
“I don’t know, you’re both always spending so much time together.”
“As friends.” She choked. “If I’m being completely honest, I’ve always harbored a bit of a crush on you.”
It was his turn to sputter. “On me?”
She smiled. “Yes, it’s a bit embarrassing, actually. I’m surprised Sebastian’s never told you. He’s tormented me about it since the moment he found out.”
Ominis winced and let his head fall forward, voice muffled in the collar of her shirt. “Gods, I’ve been such an idiot.”
“Well, that’s only natural,” She teased, raking her nails softly through the hair on his nape. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
He picked his head up. “So, I…we could’ve been doing this, so much sooner?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Been wanting to get into my pants for very long, have you, Ominis?”
He groaned. “That’s not what I meant,” She watched as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. “I’ve liked you for quite a while.”
“Have you?” She grinned. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” He murmured. “A bit of pining was good for me. Humbling.”
She tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Yes, I’m sure you’re not very used to not getting what you want, hm?”
“Mmh,” He hummed, non-committal, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Terribly spoiled, I’m afraid.”
“I won’t hold that against you, either.”
She laced her fingers behind his neck, tugging him forward to bring his lips down to hers again. Ominis could barely contain the euphoric feeling of relief in his chest, of completion, of blissful satisfaction in knowing the witch underneath him was his and only his.
He let his hands wander, explore, caress, tugging her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and running his hands over the creamy smooth expanse of her stomach. He let his lips roam with just as much fervor, trailing down the length of her neck, scraping biting kisses over her collarbone, over the soft curves of her jaw.
“Take this off me,” She pleaded in between kisses, breathless, and he would be a fool if he didn’t immediately oblige. Slender, deft fingers turned clumsy and unpracticed in the heat of the moment, fumbling over buttons and the zipper of her skirt with a lot more lack of finesse than he was used to doing most things in life. His heart was pounding too loud in his ears for him to care.
If she was anything she was impatient, and he quickly learned this impatience would be the very bane of his existence, as she proceeded to grind her hips up to meet his every time he tried to pause and regain some level of composure.
She seemed to take a form of sick gratification in the way he’d curse under his breath at the feeling of the soaked fabric of her knickers, rubbing back and forth against that stiff, aching part of him, nearly bringing him to completion.
He crawled down her body before she could torture him any longer, hooking his fingers into the hem of her knickers and tugging it down to pool at her ankles. He left a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses in his descent, dragging his tongue down the line of her sternum, slow and deliberate.
She tensed. “You don’t have to—”
“Please,” He nosed at the soft curve of her stomach, his breath warm against her skin, eyes half-lidded behind blonde eyelashes. “I want to. Please let me.”
Her voice was quiet, anticipated. “Okay.”
It was all he needed to kiss her there, lips pressed to her dripping core, sucking just slightly, tentatively, just enough to make her gasp. His tongue was velvety smooth, purposefully slow, as if savoring it, savoring her.
“Tastes good,” He murmured against her cunt in a hum, lips sticky and glistening, voice hoarse and gravely with want. “Tastes s’good. Mmh.”
She couldn’t stifle her moans as he lapped at her firmer then, more focused, dragged the tip of his tongue and swirled it around that sensitive little bundle of nerves he had already deduced made her hips writhe and her hands tangle in his hair, pulling, pleading.
He didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but Ominis prided himself on being a very intuitive learner — and there was no better lesson than her nails raking over his scalp and her mewls muffled against the back of her hand every time he evidently did something right with his tongue. In this more than anything, he was determined to get all O’s.
“Oh, gods, Ominis,” She breathed out, and that was all it took for him to break, for him to push two fingers inside her cunt, wrap his lips around her clit, and suck. Hard, until her toes curled at either side of his hips on the bedding, and her head was thrown back onto the pillows, and she was repeating please, please, please like a prayer — as if she’d ever have to beg him for anything.
He pulled her over the edge with a groan against her cunt, fingers pressing into that little spot on her walls that made her vision white over with stars, melting her muscles into a puddle of ecstasy. Coaxed her through it, lapping at the wetness until she was reduced to shudders and breathy, shaky pants.
“You’re so beautiful,” He climbed over her, chest heaving, pressing kisses to her cheeks. He rambled praises, utterly sapless, euphoric, and if she didn’t know any better she’d think he was coming down from the high of his own orgasm with how giddy he sounded. “Oh my gods, you’re so unbelievably perfect. Sounded so good — tasted so good, fuck. You’re just—”
She kissed him then, not minding that she could taste herself on his tongue. Slow and sweet, her head dizzy with endorphins. He liked her like this.
Reaching down between them, she ran her hand down the placket of his briefs, palmed the evidence of his arousal, reveled in the way his lips faltered against hers. She dipped her fingers past the elastic of his waistband, and the whimper he let out when she finally wrapped her hand around him was nothing short of depraved.
“Want to be inside of you,” He pleaded, his hips rutting of their own accord against her palm, warm and slick with desire, a sticky bead of pre-cum pooling at the tip. He felt so thick in her hand. “Please, want— want it so bad.”
He couldn’t bear the restriction any longer, tugging his shorts down his thighs, exposing alabaster skin and flushed pink and so much of him she couldn’t pull her eyes away.
He notched himself at her entrance, lips hovering over hers, asking for permission without words, and all she could do was fervently nod to keep herself from begging.
He laced his fingers with hers as he slowly pushed in, gasps shared between their lips, foreheads pressed together. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him closer, urging him for more.
His voice was wrecked when he spoke. “Is this — am I hurting you? Is this alright?”
She shook her head. “You’re perfect —you feel so perfect.”
He groaned, surging forward to capture her lips in his, pouring every ounce of devotion and adoration into the way his tongue brushed against hers, as he slowly rocked his hips, in and out, cautious, shallow thrusts.
“Please, more,” She whispered, quiet, needy, and he couldn’t help but oblige. He bottomed out inside of her, his head falling to her shoulder, and eased his hips back to meet hers with a sharp thrust.
She was overwhelmed by the novel and absolutely foreign feeling of being so full. That dull sting where he was stretching her out around him, that pleasurable ache where he was pressing up into her walls — it was all revoltingly delicious. She never wanted it to stop.
“Christ, you’re — fuck,” Her fingers wrapped around his bicep for support, nails digging little crescent-shaped marks into his skin. “You’re so deep—oh my gods, please move, please, please move,”
He was half-convinced he’d cut out his own beating heart in that moment and present it to her if she asked. He braced himself with his fingers splayed warm and broad on her hip, holding maybe a bit too tightly, and fucked into her with steady, deep thrusts, her legs wrapped around his waist.
“Yes, yes, yes,” She gasped, his cock pressing deep into that sensitive spot inside of her. She could feel that winding knot behind her navel being pulled taut, being stretched tighter and tighter until she felt like she might break. “Like that, just like that — fuck, please don’t stop, please don’t stop,”
Ominis had by no means a dirty mouth, was never, ever crass by an definition of the word, but hearing her pleading in his ear, feeling her squeeze so tightly around him, slick and warm and utterly divine — he couldn’t stop the endless litany spilling from his mouth, delirious from how good she felt as he thrust into her thoroughly, his self-restraint slipping out of him like grains of sand through open fingers.
“You’re so perfect. My angel, oh my gods, all mine. Mine, mine, mine. Gorgeous, so gorgeous, you’re so tight, so tight around me. Fuck, I can’t stop, I can’t — I need —I need you, I love this, I love this so much, fuck, fuck, fuck, I love this, I love—”
His words died on a strangled moan as he finished inside of her, pumping into her until he pulled her over the edge along with him, electrifying her nerve-endings into bliss. He pressed his lips to hers like he needed her to breathe, like the only oxygen he desired was the ones she would give him from her very own lungs.
She spoke first, dazed. “That was—”
He let out a laugh, soft and pleasure-rough, the slightest bit drowsy. “Amazing. Brilliant. You’re absolutely brilliant.”
She returned his gleaming smile with her own, teasing.
“You’ve only just noticed?”
//
It took one look. The raucous bustle of other students still disembarking around him, yet his attention was trained on his two friends smiling and waiting up for him.
His eyes darted between the two, briefly combing over the faint bites of purple on her neck that was peeking out just slightly from beneath the green and silver of her scarf, then finally dipped to where their hands were surreptitiously clasped behind layers of cloaks, and he immediately knew.
Sebastian dropped his suitcase on the weathered boards of the dock with a thunk and ran up to clap his hands on his friends’ shoulders with a sly smile and a satisfied glint in his eyes.
“Fucking took you two long enough.”
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy smut#sebastian sallow x reader#ominis gaunt#ominis gaunt x reader#ominis x mc#hogwarts legacy ominis#hogwarts legacy fanfiction#hogwarts legacy imagine
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Depths of the Heart
This was supposed to be your last excursion with the party and now you're trapped with Laios. What will be revealed while Chilchuck takes his sweet time helping you out?
Miscommunication? sorta both Laios and the reader are oblivious to their feelings. I did give the reader some anxiety so there's that <3
ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon
Relationship: Laios Touden/Reader
Characters: Namari, Chilchuck Tims, Falin Touden, Marcille Donato, Shuro | Nakamoto Toshiro, Laios Touden
Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety
As you walk on the stone floors your footsteps echo alongside your parties. The third floor was known for having hidden doorways and traps from floor to ceiling so Chilchuck was leading the group. His senses worked on overdrive making sure the path was safe.
You had already been in the dungeon for two days so the conversation was light. Marcille and Falin were chatting quietly, probably about spells or their years in the academy. Laios was sticking by Shuros side, like a puppy following a stray cat, asking questions about monsters in the east. Namari and you brought up the rear, protecting the rest of the party from possible attacks. Namari wasn't much of a conversationalist, other than when it came to weapons, so you two walked in a fairly comfortable silence.
Your mind drifted to your conversation with her before you entered the dungeon a few weeks ago. The party was out to dinner while going over the last excursion. You had wanted to get her input about your thoughts on possibly leaving the party.
“Why!? I mean, not that there aren’t any valid reasons to leave and find a different party, or employer but I thought you and Laios… Got along well. And you like the rest of the party too. You seem happy enough with the progress and payment?” her eyes looking over to where the rest of the party ate in the meal hall.
“I did, I do. It’s just lately I find myself making mistakes and not feeling like I fit in. The vibes have changed you know? Plus I got an offer for room and board and a paying position in another party on the island. And I know you were thinking about leaving for a little while so I thought I’d get your thoughts.”
She took in your words for a beat and then responded, “I have been getting offers from other parties as well, and they are pretty enticing. Especially when Laios can be a less-than-great leader in the social aspects of leading. Though it would take something pretty impactful to make me just get up and leave.”
You nod along as she talks.
“But that’s me. What's important is that if you feel like staying in the party is not for you then that's what you feel. Before you leave you should talk to Laios, see if maybe this is something you could ya know, work out together.”
Your face grows hot at her suggestion, that was the opposite of what you wanted to do. Recently just being around Laios made you self-conscious and kinda clumsy, which is not what you wanted when in a life or death situation “Maybe. I’ll give it some thought. Thanks, Namari.”
When you had gone to Namari you had expected her to agree with you and support your decision to leave. It would make sense given that she was always voicing her displeasure with the financial situation. It seemed strange that she would encourage you to try and talk through your issues. Walking on the third floor you think about the resignation letter you had in your pack for after the end of this crawl. You hadn't told anyone yet, not wanting to ruin your last adventure together. Though most of the party members had noticed your emotional distance, besides Laios. He would still tell you monster facts about the monsters you had just taken down, even repeating ones he had told you before. Earlier on you would grin and comment on them, or even offer some of your own. Now however it makes you feel uneasy when his smiling face and positive energy are directed towards you. You simply acknowledged his words and continued.
You can't blame him for not noticing. You were trying to not let him know how strange you felt, and you were not about to tell him and make him concerned. And what if he got mad at you when you told him, you couldn't handle that? It would be easier to just take it on yourself and remove yourself from the equation. You had been in your mind so much you hadn't noticed that there was an odd stone in your path. Though Laios had.
“(Y/N!)” he shouted while rushing back towards you. You looked at him right as your foot stepped down. His body collided with you as the section of floor you were standing on gave out beneath you.
~~~
“Damn it!” you exclaimed after you had landed properly on your bottom with Laios’ body over top of yours. “I can’t believe I was dumb enough to step on that pressure plate! I should have been paying attention.”
“We all make mistakes,” Laios said while standing up and dusting himself off. “Plus Chilchuck should be able to find the release mechanism up above. Then Marcille or Falin can help us out.” He starts looking around, the temporary holding place having a few torches for light. “At least it wasn’t a spike pit.”
“We shouldn't try to escape without Chilchuck. We may get ourselves into even more trouble if we press the wrong thing. Plus neither of us specialize in things like this.” you tell him, worried as he walks along the perimeter of the room.
He nods along, “You’re right, looks like we’ll just have to wait it out.”
Your heart beats loudly in your chest. Not only were you trapped due to your airheadedness you also had brought Laios down with you. Mistakes like this were exactly why you needed to leave. You were becoming a danger to yourself and others. Whenever Laios was around or on your mind you just could not focus. Why had you decided on one last trip? You had already agreed to the new job? You knew you couldn't be trusted but you just had to follow along. But when Laios told you about the plans for this trek you just agreed, without a second thought. And now, you could die in this stupid room and no corpse retriever would be able to find you. No, you try to tell yourself, you're only on the third floor and you trust your party. As long as you stayed where you were and did not move there would be no way you could mess it up anymore.
“Well while we're here we may as well make lunch.”
“Yeah I guess.” you're an idiot
~~~
Laios went through his rations finding some dried meat and barley rice. He didn’t have enough water to soak the barley rice in.
“I think I have some backup in my pack, you can check. Oh, also I brought some seasonings along if you would grab those too” You were busy using your limited magical knowledge to start a fire.
“Thanks.” No matter what was cooked he would always stomach it with enthusiasm if it came from you but you did pride yourself on being able to make the rations a bit better with seasonings and some oil. Some people, Chilchuck, thought it was an unnecessary weight but you liked it. Plus you could tell he liked it better when you were on cooking duty.
Rummaging sounds came from Laios as he looked through your pack for the ingredients. Your fire was done and you placed the pan over the fire to start heating up.
“Here.” he handed you the water and your spice pouch.
“Thank you Laios,” you added the water to the pan and let it come to heat as you prepared the barley rice.
After a while the food was ready. You and Laios ate together. It may have been your anxiety but he seemed suspiciously quiet. Laios was rarely this quiet for this long, always filling the air with his thoughts on monsters or the dungeon, freely asking questions about his party members' lives. To be fair you were quieter lately, though he had not seemed to notice, he would have brought it up. Or would he? He wasn't very keen on social cues so you hadn't seen him confront anyone about it before.
“When are you leaving?”
“Huh?”
“I saw your notice in your bag, signed and everything.”
“Oh,” You forgot you had it in your bag when you told him to look for the ingredients. “I was planning on leaving after this crawl.”
“I… I thought you liked it, you know, with us.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you leaving, is it finances? I know we're a little down right now but if there was a problem why didn’t you come to me?”
“It’s not the money, I mean it didn’t help but that’s not it.”
“Did someone say something? Did they make you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable?” he looked worried now “Is it me?”
You had paused long enough for Laios to pick up on it.
“It is, isn't it? What was it? I… thought we got along well. That we were friends!”
“We were, or are.” You shook your head “It’s not you, you haven’t changed or done anything wrong. I just, I’ve been off and I can’t figure it out.” your heart was beating even faster, you were shaking. This was exactly the conversation you wanted to avoid.
His head tilted “Off? Like sick?”
“No, more like clumsy. My thoughts keep wandering and I make silly mistakes like getting us trapped here or like during our last crawl. Do you remember when I got sucked into that living painting and Shuro had to jump in to get me? I had zoned out looking right at it and didn't notice it moving! I could have gotten Shuro hurt.”
Laios is looking at you like you're a hurt puppy
“I’ve become a burden on the rest of the party. It’s not fair to you guys for me to stay so I accepted an offer from another party. They're giving me room and board too, so that’s nice.”
Laios seems to be thinking over your words, looking down at his now-forgotten food.
“But if you are leaving cause you’re distracted how will that be fixed by leaving? Won’t you just be distracted in a new setting? That seems even more dangerous! You don’t know if you can trust your new party members. At least with us you know we will always have your back.”
“I didn't even want to have this conversation. It would have been so much easier if we had a successful crawl and then I would tell the party I was leaving and said our goodbyes. Simple and nice. People change parties all the time Laios!”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
You sigh and look away from him, looking towards the torch on the wall. They are always lit yet they never burn out. Must be tiring “I know.” He doesn't take his eyes off of you. “I guess it’s because it usually only happens when I'm with this party. Well mostly.” You can't bring yourself to fully look at him.
“Oh.”
You breathed in, hoping he would just drop it. Hoping he would come to some kind of understanding in his head.
“But why?”
Of course not.
You buried your face in your hands. “I don't know.”
“If we can work this out then I want to try. You shouldn’t leave.”
“It’s not like I want to leave! I just, I can’t justify putting you and the others at risk because I’m afraid to lose my friendships. I just know that when I’m around the party I get self-conscious or I keep thinking weird things and I make avoidable mistakes.”
“Self-Conscious?”
“Yeah … like if I look okay, or if I’m fighting well or not. If i'm being too loud or talking too much or not enough. As if I was an adolescent again trying to make the cool kids like me.”
He takes some time to weigh your words in his head.
“Well I don’t know much about romance but that kind of seems like maybe you have a crush? Maybe? Marcille has talked to me about some of the books she read, and one of the characters acts like that around the character they want to court.”
Your heart seems to stop.
“I think the next step is to figure out who it is and then tell them. You should ask Marcille though she really likes this kind of stuff. She's been talking about it to me more lately so she must really want someone to talk about it with.”
“Oh god.” of course it’s just a crush you feel so silly. “I guess that makes sense.” But who?
Oh. Oh no.
“Maybe it’s Shuro? He is pretty cool, and strong. Or Marcille, I know some people really find elves attractive, plus she's also good at magic.”
Of course it's Him. It could never have been anyone else.
“Or Namari, you two do seem pretty close.”
Before you started having trouble your thoughts were always filled with ‘What does Laios think about this’ and ‘I wonder if Laios would be interested in that’, you had just thought he was a good friend. It was right around the time he had carried you away from an attacking dryad after it had pierced your thigh that you became more distant. He was always so careful with you and attentive. But he had never shown you any interest, not romantically. You weren't sure if he was even interested in those kinds of things. If leaving the group was bad, being rejected by Laios would be even worse. There was no way you could tell him now.
“Never mind. It’s probably best for me to leave. I wonder when Chilchuck will figure this damned trap out huh?”
“Y/N?”
“It’s already been like 30 minutes at least right?” you got up abruptly.
“Y/N.”
“Maybe we should try and figure out a way to escape. They could have been ambushed.” you were now walking around the room looking for switches.
“I don’t think so, and even if they had been they would have taken care of any monsters we were only on the third floor. Why don’t you want to talk about this?” He was still sitting on the ground
“I’m feeling restless.” your hands ran against the wall, looking intently at the grooves.
“But if we work it out then you may not have to leave? You just have to tell them.” He sounds a little breathless.
“They don’t like me, Laios. Not like that.” Your fingers find a loose piece of stone
“You figured out who it was?” He’s almost hopeful
“Yes.” you pick at the small rock
“But you won't tell them?” confused
“No.” you let it fall from the wall
“So you're still going to leave?”
The rock sits still in the place it fell
“Yes.”
“Will you look at me?”
“No.”
A beat passes
“We don’t want you to leave.”
“You don’t know that. I’m sure you can find another decent party member to take my place.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“Maybe a Kobold, that would be cool.”
“I don't want a Kobold, I want you.”
“No you don’t.”
“Don’t tell me what I want. I don't want another party member, it’s not even about losing a party member. I just want you. Don’t leave.”
“You don’t want me Laios.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t!” you whip around to look in his direction unable to fully look at him, tears have been collecting in your water line for a while now. “You don’t want me!” A tear finally spills, you take a deep breath in and look away “Not like I want you. So just… let me go. I will be fine, Laios.” you don't want to yell at him, you don’t want to be crying. “God what is taking them so long.” putting your focus on the ceiling where you fell from.
Calloused yet soft hands touch your face, you don't know how he got so close to you so fast. Or quietly for that matter with all that armor on.
“Look at me, please.”
You sniffled, letting your eyes turn down to meet his. He, noticeably, was not crying. He was smiling, softly, a blush adorned his cheeks. His eyes took in your face and a huff of breath escaped his lips.
“It’s not funny, Laios.” scolding him. You had just basically confessed and now he was what? Amused by the fact you were crying?
“It kind of is. You see I have just realized we are probably two of the stupidest people in our party.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“No, I am. Because I have had you in front of me for how long? And I am just now realizing how much I like you. Marcille didn’t want to talk about her books. She was trying to make me realize my feelings for you. Chilchuck has been complaining about in party romances more lately, And Namari told me you were thinking about leaving and yet I couldn’t even let myself fathom being without you that I let you pull away from us, from me.”
“What?”
“And you’re stupid if you think I wouldn't reciprocate your feelings. You are so stunning and clever, well usually. You let me ramble about monsters and you always light up when you talk about cooking or other interests. Anyone would be lucky to be on the receiving side of your affection.”
“But you've never even shown the slightest interest in anything romantic before.”
He nods while wiping at your tear stained cheeks with his thumb.
“It is rare, but it has happened before. Though it was never reciprocated, after that I kind of gave up. I focused on being a soldier, and being a good brother to Falin. It seemed like I would never have a chance to love, much less be loved like that.” he looked down and away but just for a second. “I’m sorry I made you feel unwanted.”
“I can’t believe I didn't realize what it was before we fell in this stupid hole.” you giggled slightly
“I’m glad you did, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten to do this.”
“Hmm?”
He softly placed his lips on yours. It was tentative, and unmoving. You pushed back lightly, letting your lips slot in with his.
Above you the ceiling opened up, grabbing both of your attentions.
“We should get our stuff.” you say. Slowly you pull away from each other and pick up your back packs. Hiding your flushed faces from view.
~~~
It took a little bit of time but with some rope and climbing you were both able to get out of the hole. It seemed that the rest of the party also had lunch while you were in the trap. A part of you wanted to cuss them out for leaving you down there so long. The other part was grateful because now you had Laios and you got yourself back. Shuro was avoiding looking at the both of you but Chilchuck and Marcille seemed pretty smug.
Smiling, Chilchuck finally spoke up “Sorry it took me so long, it was a very complicated mechanism.” Asshole. You glared at him as Laios spoke up.
“No it’s fine, but we did loose quite a bit of time we should probably move on if we want to make it to the fourth floor.”
Everyone agreed and started to pack up and head out. While everyone was busy Laios grabbed your hand and gave it a slight squeeze. You would have to talk later but for now you felt lighter than you had in a while. You reminded yourself that you needed to rip up that notice and send out a letter to the other party. This one suited you just fine.
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Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc
gif from gabelandeskog
Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc
Author: Tory / @tkwrites
Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts
Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know.
Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.
Word Count: 4,600
Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue. So if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one. But it is setting up all of our off-season fics.
If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.
I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.
Summer Decisions
A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot
“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”
“Oh,” she said, voice quiet.
“Is that not okay?”
“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.”
“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.
They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark.
The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay.
“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”
“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.”
“Michigan? Why?”
“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”
“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?”
“Why?”
“Because of us?” she gestured between them.
“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.”
“I can’t do that, Quinn.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.”
“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.”
Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?”
Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”
The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”
Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”
“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said.
Okay then.
“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.
“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.”
“That’s not fair,” he said.
“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?”
Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved.
“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.
“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing.
“What would you suggest, then?”
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow.
“No. Of course not.”
“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?”
“Because we won’t be together.”
“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?”
“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them.
“That’s not fair.”
He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face.
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.”
Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing.
Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”
A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?”
“Long distance?”
It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”
“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”
She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.
“What would that look like?” she asked, finally.
“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”
“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”
“Probably, but —”
“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.”
He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.”
“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.”
It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement.
“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought.
Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind.
“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.
“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."
It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.
“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.”
“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.”
“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
“I know. I do too.”
“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.”
“Four,” he corrected.
“What?”
“Four months, I come back in September.”
Well, that was a relief.
“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin.
He sat next to her, leaning in.
“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.”
“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?”
“No, but it’ll be fine.”
She shook her head.
He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together.
“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”
“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.”
“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.”
Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be.
Quinn huffed.
“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.
His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”
“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”
Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet.
“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August.
Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.
“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”
“I kind of thought you might move in here.”
“What?”
“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.”
She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?”
“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.”
Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.”
“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.”
“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.”
He beamed.
“But I can’t live here alone all summer.”
Expression falling, he opened his mouth.
“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.”
The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.
“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.”
His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face.
Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.
“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.”
“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”
“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.”
This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together.
Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back.
“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt.
Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.”
“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day.
“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.”
He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.
“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.”
Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?”
“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.”
She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible.
Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again.
The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.
“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.
Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?”
“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.”
His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?”
“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”
“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked.
“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.”
“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?”
“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.”
“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.
“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?”
“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.”
Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?”
“12,000.”
“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.
“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.
She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.
“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.”
“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.”
“So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”
“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.
“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up.
She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.”
She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water.
Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together.
Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face.
She giggled and told him the story.
“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together.
“Every morning?” she repeated.
“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.”
Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.”
“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.”
His hands found her waist as their lips connected.
A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”
Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.”
The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.
“But they love you here.”
His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.”
She gave him an incredulous look.
“Its happened before.”
“To you?”
“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”
“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”
“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”
She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?”
“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.”
“How do you live your life like this?” she asked.
He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.
“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?”
Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life.
There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up.
He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes.
“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much.
His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said.
“I don’t know either.”
A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.
“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.”
He nodded, “me too.”
Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.”
“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap.
Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers.
The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?”
Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed.
As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease.
“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself.
“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”
A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him.
“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.”
Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later.
Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll.
She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest.
Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations.
Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him.
“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”
Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.
“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.
Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.”
Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist
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#quinn & sarah snapshots#quinn hughes#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x oc#quinn hughes fanfic#quinn hughes oneshot#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#hockey romance#hockey fanfiction#hockey fic#qh43
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Tolerate It
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Summary: You gave up your dreams for Connor, which was fine. But why can’t he at least give back what you’ve lost with at least being present.
A/N: It’s not the exact same as the song bc thats toooooooo angsty
Y/N had known Connor Bedard for as long as she could remember. They had grown up together, inseparable since they were in diapers. Their parents were close friends, and it was natural that they would be, too. Childhood friends, partners in crime, and each other's confidants, they had shared everything—their dreams, their fears, their hopes for the future. As they grew older, the bond between them only deepened. It was always easy with Connor; their friendship was effortless, built on a foundation of mutual trust and support.
It was no surprise when that friendship began to shift into something more as they hit their teenage years. The late-night conversations grew longer, the touches more lingering, and the looks more meaningful. It was unspoken at first, but eventually, Connor confessed his feelings one summer night when they were sixteen, sitting by the lake they had always gone to as kids.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N,” he had said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty. “I mean, you’re everything to me.”
That was all it took. From that moment on, they were more than just friends—they were everything to each other.
When Connor got drafted into the NHL, it was the culmination of everything he had worked for. Y/N was there at the draft, her heart swelling with pride as his name was called. It was a dream come true for him, but there was a bittersweet undertone. Y/N had gotten into her dream university, too—across the country. They had always known this moment was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.
The days leading up to their inevitable separation were filled with unspoken tension. They tried to act like everything was normal, like they could handle the distance, but the reality of being apart hung over them like a storm cloud. Connor was set to move to Chicago, and Y/N was supposed to head to California.
It was the night before Y/N was supposed to leave when Connor finally broke. They were sitting in his car, parked in front of her house, the silence between them heavy.
“I can’t do it,” he said suddenly, his voice strained.
Y/N turned to him, her heart clenching at the look on his face. He looked lost, desperate, like he was barely holding it together.
“Connor—”
“Don’t go,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hand. “I know it’s selfish, but I need you here with me. I don’t want to be without you.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at him, torn between her dreams and the boy she had loved for so long. She knew how much playing in the NHL meant to Connor, but she hadn’t realized how much her presence meant to him. She was his rock, his constant. And as much as it hurt to give up her dream, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him like this, knowing how much he needed her.
So she stayed.
Y/N transferred to a university in Chicago, and for a while, everything seemed perfect. Connor was thriving in the league, making waves as a rookie, and Y/N was doing well in her new school. They were together, and that was all that mattered. They had made it through the toughest decision of their lives, and things were going well.
Until they weren’t.
It started slowly, in ways that Y/N could almost convince herself weren’t a big deal. Connor was always busy—more and more "team activities" kept him out late, and she was no longer invited. She would see the other girlfriends and wives at events and wonder why she was being left out. At first, she brushed it off, thinking it was just the demands of his career. She told herself that the NHL was a whole different world, and maybe she just wasn’t meant to be a part of that aspect of his life.
But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Y/N began to feel the cracks in their relationship widening. She would wait by the door for him to come home, feeling like a little kid waiting for a parent who never showed up. Sometimes she would set the table with their nicest dishes, hoping for a quiet dinner together, only for Connor to come home hours late, too tired to even notice her efforts.
Each missed dinner, each late-night out without her, each forgotten promise—it all added up, piece by piece, until Y/N felt like she was drowning in her own loneliness. She didn’t know how to talk to him about it. How could she? He was now Connor Bedard, the NHL star, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. How could she add her own pain to that pressure?
Besides, she had given up everything for him—her dream university, her own future. She had sacrificed it all because she loved him, and she wanted to believe that it had been the right choice. But now, as she sat alone in their apartment, night after night, she began to wonder if Connor even noticed how much she had given up for him.
One night, after yet another evening spent waiting for Connor to come home, Y/N reached her breaking point. She had spent hours preparing a special dinner again, hoping this time her makes it home in time for some time to reconnect with him. But when he finally walked through the door, hours later than expected, he barely acknowledged her. His face was tired, his eyes distant, and when she asked about his day, he gave her nothing but short, distracted answers.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Connor,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Do you even care anymore?”
He looked up, startled by the intensity in her voice. “What? Y/N. I’ve just been—”
“Busy?” she finished for him, her frustration spilling over. “You’re always busy, Connor. But you’re never busy with me. I don’t even know what’s going on in your life anymore.”
Connor frowned, looking uncomfortable. “It’s just… the team, the pressure, it’s a lot.”
“And I’m supposed to just sit here and wait for you? To figure it out by yourself? We’ve always gotten through things together Connor. I just get why you won’t let me in anymore. Why I feel like I’m not even a relevant presence in your life. It just feels like I’m begging for footnotes about anything you do anymore.” Y/N’s voice broke. “I gave up everything for you, Connor. And I was fine with that. That was my inevitable decision. I just thought we were in this together, but it feels like I’m just… here. Like I’m only around for when you need someone. What happened to us?”
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss for words. “Y/N, I asked you to give up your dreams for me but only because—”
“Because what Connor. What. If you’re implying for support that cannot be further from the truth. You’ve been so distant like I’m not even here.” she interrupted, her voice raw with emotion, eyes widening as she never meant to actually say it out loud “Maybe you didn’t think that decision through, but you had asked me to stay. I think you were just scared to not have anyone for the first time in your life. And I was too, that’s why I stayed, but also because I love you. But now, I don’t even know if that means anything to you.”
There was a long, heavy silence between them. Connor looked at her, his face torn between guilt and frustration, but he said nothing. And that silence—his inability to reassure her, to tell her that he still loved her, still needed her—spoke louder than any words could.
Y/N felt something inside her shatter.
In the weeks that followed, things between them grew even more strained. Y/N tried to talk to him, tried to salvage what was left of their relationship, but Connor seemed more distant than ever. It was as if he had retreated into himself, caught up in the demands of his career, while Y/N was left alone to pick up the pieces of what they once had.
The worst part was that she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. She had come so far, sacrificed so much, and the thought of walking away felt like admitting defeat. She loved him—she had always loved him—but she was beginning to realize that love wasn’t enough. Not when it was one-sided. Not when she felt more like an afterthought than a partner. Her loved should of been celebrated, but it seemed like he just tolerated it
One night, after yet another fight that ended in silence, Y/N sat on their bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t keep living like this, couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. But leaving him—it would destroy him. She knew that much. He assumed she was fine, that she was content to be there for him, to support him no matter what. But what would he do if she broke free, if she finally walked away and left them both in ruins?
Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that something had to change—before it was too late. But deep down she knew what she needed to do.
#connor bedard#connor bedard imagine#connor bedard x reader#jack hughes x reader#quinn hughes x reader#trevor zegras x reader#chicago blackhawks#jack hughes#luke hughes x reader#nhl x reader#matt rempe x reader#quinn hughes#umich hockey#Spotify
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I recall reading in Ninaki's interview that Rachel met with her after the divorce decision and told her to be prepared as this news will come out in the papers the next day. Ninaki thought at that time what's the need for her to do so as Rachel wasn't even a big star when this was happened. But when I go back and scoured for this very detail, I can no longer find it. Guess Rachel got offended that Ninaki didn't think of her as an A Lister back then and got the article corrected
Ask from August 3rd
Here is the Ninaki interview (archived link). It's from December 2017. Be warned that there are *a lot* of pictures of Meghan in the article.
"It was such a shock when she told me they were getting divorced. After about three seasons of Suits, she called me and said she wanted me to know because it was going to come out in the papers. I knew they fought sometimes, but it wasn’t anything huge. The only obstacle was the distance because she was living in Toronto and Trevor was based in LA. But I thought that they were manoeuvring through it as best they could. Trevor would take his work to Canada to be with her and run his office remotely. I wasn’t aware there were any problems in the marriage. I had to accept what she said." Ninaki hesitates...[she] says she no longer recognises the girl with whom she shared her childhood. "A month after the divorce, I wanted to see how Trevor was doing. We met and talked. It’s not up to me to speak for Trevor, but I know he was travelling to Toronto every few weeks and would have walked the earth to make their marriage work. I don’t believe she gave him enough of an opportunity. I think there was an element of 'out of sight, out of mind' for Meghan. The way she handled it, Trevor definitely had the rug pulled out from under him. He was hurt. I tried to get details from her, but she wouldn’t tell me. What came to light after Trevor and I spoke ended my friendship with Meghan. I think everybody who knew them both was in shock. All I can say now is that I think Meghan was calculated — very calculated — in the way she handled people and relationships. She is very strategic in the way she cultivates circles of friends. Once she decides you’re not part of her life, she can be very cold. It’s this shutdown mechanism she has. There’s nothing to negotiate. She’s made her decision and that’s it."
and
"Then, after the wedding, it was like a light switched off. There’s Meghan Before Fame and Meghan After Fame. After three seasons of Suits, she called me to say the marriage was over. Maybe she had started to change before then, but I was refusing to see it. The tone of her voice, her mannerisms, the way she laughed didn’t seem real to me any more. Even by season two of Suits, she was turning down lunch with us because she said she’d be recognised. I felt if I questioned her behaviour, I’d be left on the outside. Sometimes the truth is not always what you want, is it? Her time became increasingly important. When she was in town, she’d want you to drop everything to see her. If I was busy, it would be, 'Why don’t you want to see me? I’m here. Let’s hang out!' There were instances when I felt she developed a sense of entitlement because she was on the show. The breaking point for me came when she wanted to adopt a dog. She’d fallen in love with it, but found someone else wanted the dog, too. So she emailed the pet adoption people and explained how she could provide a great life for it. She spoke of what a great time the dog would have in the Suits Family. I felt that she was playing the Suits card to try to get what she wanted. She included me and the other bridesmaids in the email chain because she wanted our moral support, I think. I didn’t respond to it. It left a sour taste in my mouth. We began to talk less. It was shortly after that I spoke to Trevor about the divorce. I phoned Meghan to speak about it, but she wouldn’t confide in me. It was obvious to me she wasn’t the friend I’d grown up with any more. She had a new circle of friends."
And one very prophetic line from the article: Many of the friends who celebrated with the newlyweds on that beach are no longer speaking to Meghan.
We can say the same thing now today about Harry. Many of the friends who celebrated with the newlyweds at Windsor are no longer speaking to Harry.
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You know a dynamic I’d love to see more of? Willow and Odalia.
Because Odalia is directly, intentionally responsible for all of Willow’s trauma; As was Alador, but he seems to be more of an enforcer like Amity was, not making that decision because he’s apathetic about the situation in Escaping Expulsion and even holds Odalia to her word. So while he went along (and I’d like to imagine Willow having VERY mixed feelings on him for a while), Odalia made that decision to begin with.
Boscha already bullied Willow, she didn’t need Odalia to tell her to and we have no indication there was any order; But I imagine it wouldn’t have hit so hard to have Amity as a friend to defend her. But to have Amity leave her, reinforcing Boscha’s assertions of Willow being Half-a-Witch? And then becoming friends with Boscha, just to show she’s found someone better, that person who hurt her? It must’ve made the pain felt tenfold.
And we see how years of loneliness and cruelty genuinely wore on Willow’s psyche, becoming legitimate trauma that she struggled with until the penultimate episode of the series! And all because of this adult singling out this child specifically, deciding she’s not good enough. It’s so cruel to target and even threaten her to their daughter. What are these grown-ass rich people going after a lower-class kid for?!?!?
When Odalia sees the photo that Amity has, it’s not just Luz she’s taking issue with, it’s also the presence of Gus… and Willow, who was specifically forbidden from the start. So it also comes back around to Willow in a way, and her friendship with Amity returning, a promise we see come through in S2B.
How does Willow feel to see these adults come after her, all over again?! Amity promised to stand up to Boscha, but not her own abusive parents; That’s something Willow couldn’t even do with her loving dads, it’s no wonder she didn’t expect that from Amity. She must’ve been reorienting a lot of feelings towards Amity, knowing she did care, was coerced, felt she was protecting Willow and in a way she was! She was protecting her future, but then so was Harvey and Gilbert. And it still frustrated Willow deeply to have these people choose that over Willow’s actual happiness.
But amidst beginning to forgive Amity, Willow was also reorienting her feelings towards the Blight parents; Because while she might’ve thought of them as having an influence on Amity’s decision, now she knows they directly chose and forced it for her. In their presence, Willow reverts back to the same, meek insecurity she has around Boscha and Amity back when she was a bully. But outside of that, now Willow has to handle this newfound rage and resentment, because what’s wrong with you, that you have to go after me then and even now?!? All this time there’s been this looming specter she’s just never known about until now.
Odalia and Alador are right here, doing the same thing all over again. At least with Alador, Willow is there to see how he doesn’t actually care, which I imagine would contribute to forgiveness in the long run. But Odalia is insisting upon it and won’t let it go years later. And seeing Odalia actually follow through on that years-long threat towards Willow, as Amity feared, must’ve felt insane; The loaded gun she never knew was there finally went off.
Now Willow has to grapple with the consequence she agreed with Amity to face, and she’s not going down without a fight! She’s getting that reconciliation with her first friend and her future in a school she loves, and Willow musters up that courage when she sees Odalia getting into Luz’s head, making that call to find their own way to Odalia’s face.
Thankfully, Amity followed through on her word even more than she promised; She helped Luz, Gus, and Willow get back into school, Amity and Luz did most of that work for her. And it’s nice to not be the one supporting people or handling it by herself for once.
And I think of how Willow must’ve felt when Odalia no longer had any power over her, that the specter of the Blights no longer did; Nobody to fight, just… reconcile with. And Willow sees Alador do it with Amity, so maybe she feels more charitable towards him, enough to consider it as a future option. Willow resolves Hermonculus as another tormenting adult in her life, shoving it in his face that she’s not just good enough as a student but better than him even!
And when she found out Odalia was holding her kids hostage, I bet Willow found a little vindication in the opportunity to supplant her. So when it became apparent just how low Odalia was, being willing to aid in genocide under the delusion of benefiting from it, I wonder how surprised Willow really was, if she retroactively felt more threatened, or wasn’t going to be afraid any longer.
Nor would Amity and Alador, the latter of whom would become more sympathetic to Willow’s eyes. The satisfaction that must’ve come from seeing Odalia’s source of wealth collapse before her despairing eyes, when wealth was what she did all of this for, including targeting Willow… That must’ve coalesced into just grim pity for a woman who threw away everything to have it all. This was the one who did Willow so much pain?! In the end, Odalia was nothing to her now, Willow had more important things to worry about, like her friend.
Not to mention, I think of how Odalia would’ve had a confrontation with the kids in the finale, before it got cut presumably for time, and to make room for Camila to take her place. Better call in the end, but I can only imagine Willow seeing Odalia again by her lonesome, trying to go after another kid but thankfully failing. And after resolving the trauma Odalia started years ago, Willow decides to just smash her with a giant vine. Repeatedly.
I think Willow hates Boscha —and even Hermonculus— more due to dealing with direct bullying for years, because Boscha kept choosing to attack her even when nothing was at stake for her; Odalia at least left Willow alone once she got what she wanted, she wasn’t trying to be personal… Boscha and Hermonculus are definitely more personal enemies to her than Odalia, who is Amity’s abusive mother.
That said, I’d have loved a moment of Willow confronting Odalia and getting to be personal about it, at some point in S2 or S3; Odalia made it personal from the start, she singled Willow out. She’s been an enemy of the Parks, I can only imagine how Gilbert and Harvey felt if Willow ever cleared to them why she’s reconnected with Amity, how that happened. If Hooty was still aware even as a puppet, how good did it make Gilbert feel to crush Odalia beneath his weight and become a burden for her to struggle with?
For the other kids, there’s a connection; That’s Amity’s mom, Gus’ dad was friends with her, Hunter technically worked with her for a bit. But just as for Luz, for Willow it is only ever adversarial. Odalia took a while to single Luz out when she learned she was Amity’s girlfriend and not just part of a group of rabble, but these two genuinely dislike each other specifically, and it’s so unbalanced the nature of this dislike.
And if you really want to get speculative, what if Blight Industries is the reason why Abominations are considered more lucrative than Plants? Given the coven’s use of Abomatons, it could be a metaphor for STEM being used for military purposes… Which also means that Odalia’s ‘entrepreneurial’ take on Alador’s work led to Willow having to struggle in a track she hated, and be bullied by Hermonculus and Boscha because she was a fish on dry land. And if she ever makes that connection to Odalia, then it doesn’t matter if it wasn’t personal and indirect, not after the birthday incident…!
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Mi Corazón | Olga Carmona x reader
Word Count: 2.4k Summary: you’re in the military, she plays football. You both have busy schedules, but you’ll always find time for each other. Warnings: angsty, fluffy. I’m learning Spanish but I don’t know an awful lot so I’m sorry if it’s incorrect😭, and if it’s a long conversation I’ll only write some things in Spanish. Request for: @thedarknessempress and @realsociadadferminofan - i'm pretty happy with this one so i hope you like it!
I hadn’t expected it to be this hard every single time. Of course I knew I’d miss my family and friends, but six months always felt longer than it seemed.
And then there was Olga. We already struggled to find time to ourselves before I was deployed but now it was a whole other issue. There were time zone struggles and she was getting ready for the World Cup while I was working with my platoon and showing people that I deserve my rank.
After years of work, I recently got promoted to Teniente (Lieutenant), so this mission was a big deal in proving to the higher ups that they hadn’t made the wrong decision. Olga understood but was reasonably upset that I wouldn’t be able to support her at the beginning of the World Cup, especially with the struggle the girls have had with the RFEF and Vilda.
The last time we spoke it was tense. Things were getting difficult in camp as they approached the quarter-finals and when I told her my deployment was being extended a few weeks, conveniently ending days after the finals, she broke.
“Qué? What do you mean it was extended?! Can they even do that? You promised you’d make it if we got this far!”
“I’m sorry Ol. You know I want to be there more than anything.”
“This keeps happening. How can I trust a promise when I know you could be deployed or called to work on some plan at any point?”
“Mi corazón, that is not fucking fair. You knew what me being in the Air Force entailed when you met me. I requested this time off specifically so I could be there but there was nothing anyone could do! They need me here. I’ll be able to use this for extra time off another time. Just for us.”
“But I need you here!” her voice shakes, and I nearly break; tell her ‘Fuck it I’m on my way’.
“Olga…”
“Vete a la mierda” were her final words and then the line goes dead. (fuck off)
That was over a week ago. I texted and called her more times than I can count. When she didn’t answerr the first few, I messaged Ona, asking her to at least update me on how she’s going.
‘She is ok, very sad.’ Is the first message I get in return from said left back.
‘Felicidades!’ they win their quarter-final match (congratulations)
‘She is missing you’ is what I get in return.
‘can you tell her I miss her too?’ I don’t get a reply that night and her updates continue to be few and far between as they progress through the semi-finals all the way to the finals, against England.
~~~~~
“Deja de mirar tu teléfono” Alexia scolds me as I stare at the picture of Olga, Ona and Alexia, arm in arm together after their semi-final win (stop looking at your phone)
“What if she doesn’t want to see me Ale?”
“No seas estúpida! She loves you, she is just upset. Maybe saying your deployment got extended was not your best idea.” she chuckles as I glare at her, sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chairs right behind the substitution bench. (don’t be stupid)
“I didn’t know how else to surprise her.”
“They are coming out! Pull down your cap so she cannot see you.”
“I’m still in uniform Ale. If she doesn’t recognise the outfit, she won’t recognise me.”
“Oh, just do it!” I follow the pink haired girl’s instructions and slouch in my chair.
But then I see her. For the first time in 6 months, I see her and all I want to do was run onto the pitch and pick her up and kiss her. But I can’t, I refuse to ruin the surprise after literally risking my relationship for it.
My soul focus the entire game is Olga. The way she seems so free when she plays, the way she moves. When she scores the first, and only, goal of the game and pulls up her jersey to reveal the name of her best friend’s mother I nearly cry. Even in one of her biggest moments, she honours the other people in her life.
The final whistle blows, and we cheer as the girls fall to their knees and hug each other, others comforting the English girls. After a minute or so, Ona runs over to pull Alexia and I over the barricade and I rush over to stand behind Olga who is hugging Esther, who catches a glimpse of me and smiles before pulling away from the hug.
“Felicidades mi corazón!” (Congratulations my heart)
“Qué?” she whips around at the sound, and I don’t get to say anything else before she’s jumping into my arms.
“You’re here? But y- your mission got extended?”
“Is that what I said? Whoops! I meant to say ‘I’ll be here’.” I kiss her on the forehead, then set her back down and she slaps my arm before glancing at her team.
“Go celebrate, I’m not going anywhere.” Olga hugs me once more before going to hug her teammates and comfort some of the other players, a large smile on her face.
I then stand with the other family and friends, Alexia’s arm tightly around me, as the team is presented their medals and the trophy.
Joy is rushing through until I witness Rubiales kiss Jenni, but I try to focus on the win, catching Olga as she comes barrelling back toward me after they take team photos.
“I’m sorry for yelling on the phone. And ignoring you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”
“But you didn’t even know if we would win the semis.”
“Mm I’m kind of psychic, I actually knew ages ago.” Olga giggles and pushes me lightly.
Then her family approaches us, sadness looming behind their smiles. I leave them alone to talk but it doesn’t take long for Olga to fall into my arms as she cries.
“Shh mi vida. What’s wrong?” I hold her tight as I rock us back and forth, rubbing her back.
“Mi papa murió” I stop abruptly and pull away, taking her face in my hands as I stare in shock. (my dad died)
“Qué? Cuando?” (What? When?)
“Viernes.” (Friday)
“What do you mean Friday? No one told you?” she only shakes her head before pulling me back into her.
“Lo siento mucho Ol. I’m so sorry. He would have been so proud” (very sorry)
~~~~~
We get back to Madrid after celebrations with the team. The funeral is a few days after and I spend most of the time taking care of Olga, refusing to let her do anything she doesn’t need to. Most mornings I make her breakfast, then wait to see if she wants to do any activities, then finish off the day by making dinner.
I then decided we both deserved a small holiday, so I brought her to my hometown, Dénia, on Spain’s east coast.
“Bebé! Do you have the towels?” Olga shouts from the door as I struggle to pull on my second sandal.
“Sí! I’ve got everything, don’t worry.” I walk towards her and peck her on the lips before opening the door, ushering her out.
Olga swings our hands back and forth between us as we make our way down to the beach from our hotel.
“Can we build sandcastles?” she looks at me with those big, whiskey brown eyes and I find it impossible to deny her anything.
“Of course we can.” And so we set up a spot, and while she gathers some water, I start packing sand into our buckets.
Every now and then a kid comes up to us, asking for a photo with the ‘Heroe de Fútbol’ who got us that trophy. Other kids have no idea who she is and just want to help us build a big ass sandcastle, and we tell them jokes and play into whatever fantasy they’ve made for the structure.
‘y las dos princesas se casan y viven felices para siempre!’ the little girl finishes her story. (and the two princesses get married and live happily ever after)
Lucia, as we learned her name was, quickly switched the prince for a princess after momentarily being confused when she asked if we were ‘friends or friends’. Her mum tried to apologise but Olga laughed and just took hold of my hand as we listen to the story.
Not long after saying goodbye to the girl and her mum, Olga and I pack up and head back.
“What do you want to do tonight bebé?” I ask as I unlock the door.
“Movie night? All those kid stories make me want to watch Disney.”
“As long as we get to watch The Princess and The Frog”. I head to the kitchen to start on dinner when I feel Olga’s arms wrap around me and I turn around.
“What’s up?” I stare down into her eyes, so full of love.
“Thank you. For coming home early and for this holiday, for taking care of me.”
“I’ll always take care of you mi corazón, even if I have to get dishonourably discharged, if you need me, I’ll be here. And if I really can’t be, I’ll do whatever I can to help.” I lean down and capture her lips in my own, our love for each other radiates through the kiss.
“Te amo.” She pecks my lips again (I love you)
“Te amo.” I turn back around to continue with dinner and Olga curls into my side, following me around the kitchen, always leaning on me.
It can be so hard to find time like this together so when we have it, neither of us want to be apart from the other. I never want to be apart from her.
~~~~~
Our holiday goes on for another couple of days, and we decide for our last night we would have a romantic dinner at Mala Vita, a restaurant in the Marina, overlooking the water.
“Are you ready?!” I yell through the bathroom door, waiting for Olga to finish getting ready.
I’m about to knock again when the door creaks open and Olga steps out.
I choke as I catch sight of her. Her satin red dress clings to her perfectly, her muscles are softly defined, and her loose hair frames her face. Her heels make her taller, but she still has to lean up to plant a kiss on my cheek as my mouth continues to gap open.
“Perfecta hermosa! Elegante!” I kiss her with every word before we head down to the taxi, my arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders. (Perfect beautiful! Elegant!)
“You don’t look too bad yourself.” She lightly pokes me in the side as she takes in my own outfit.
When we arrive at the restaurant, it’s golden hour, and Olga begs to do a small photoshoot, asking an older couple to take some photos of us together.
I hold her close and look her in the eyes before dipping her, both of us laughing as the older lady cheers and takes a photo.
Then Olga turns her back to me as she adjusts her hair, and I drop to one knee and hold out an object that could change everything. I see the couple smile to each other and continuously take photos from Olga’s phone out of the corner of my eye. I smile to myself, I hope to one day be like them, with the girl in front of me.
It takes Olga a few moments to turn around, ready to hug me. It then takes her a few more moment to realise I’m not standing in front of her, her eyes dropping to meet mine as I grin up at her. Her hands are then quick to cover her mouth.
“Olga Carmona García, you are the light of my life, and I would do anything for you. When you kicked a football into my face, I couldn’t even imagine this is where we would be 2 and a half years later. I am more in love with you than I have ever loved anything in my life. I want to grow old with you and love you for eternity. Por favor hazme la mujer más feliz del mundo y sé mi esposa” in mere moments Olga falls to her knees, pulls me in and kisses me passionately. (please make me the happiest woman in the world and be my wife)
“Sí! Sí, lo haré!” she cries as I slip the ring on and kiss her again. (Yes! Yes I will!)
“Sois una hermosa pareja” the lady says as she hands Olga’s phone back to her. (You are a beautiful couple)
“Gracias.” We wave goodbye to the couple before heading into the restaurant.
“I love you so much.” Olga whispers as she takes my hand, admiring the ring on her other hand.
“Not as much as I love you.” I kiss her forehead before we sit down.
“I have another surprise…”
“Qué?” her head quirks to the side in that adorable way that makes my heart clench, and I know what I’m about to say will be the best decision of my life.
“I got offered a job..” I can tell Olga is about to ask how this is a good surprise, so I rush on.
“As a lead trainer of the Air Force Academy in Madrid.” I grin at her, waiting for her to react.
“W- what does that mean?”
“I’ll be in Madrid permanently, unless of course you move clubs, then I’ll move. But most importantly we’ll have more guaranteed time together.”
“But your dream has been to be a high rank in the Air Force for basically ever!” I can see her begin to look distraught.
“It was my dream. But I’ll never want anything more than to be with you. And being in the Air Force basically guarantees we only ever have 6 months, if that, together every year. I don’t know about you, but I can’t live without you for that long for the rest of my life.”
“I can’t either.” I take her hand.
“I want this Olga, I promise. And if I get bored of being on the ground, I can always become a commercial pilot. Then I’ll always be a captain.” I smile reassuringly at the love of my life.
“Siempre serás mi capitana.” I lean over the table and kiss her once more. (You will always be my captain).
“Te amo.” She whispers as we part.
“Te amo mi corazón.”
#woso x reader#woso#womens soccer#wwc 2023#olga carmona x reader#olga carmona#liga f#real madrid#spain wnt
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Red Card - (Leah Williamson x Reader)
Concept- Leah and Y/N have been broken up for months, but things kick off when Leah gets jealous during the game against Y/Ns team.
Warnings - Injuries.
People, break up and makeup.
They fallout, fix it, kiss and carry on. But for Leah and I, we had done that for the last time. We ended things for good a little over 3 months ago, agreeing that we couldn’t keep on the way we were. The constant arguing, the overprotection from Leah and towards the end the lack of trust.
After my signing for Manchester United, after being the top goal scorer in the league, that’s when everything started to go downhill, fans would release photos of Alessia and I, saying how cute of a couple we would be, or fake stories about how a ‘close source’ had admitted we were seeing eachother, despite Leah and I being open about our relationship. It all got too much for the two of us, so I travelled down to London, and we both came to a decision.
It took me over a month to feel a little bit like myself again, Lucy was my saving grace throughout, I had been friends with her since our parents used to go on holidays and we’d find any grass we could and kick the ball back and forth, showing off. She FaceTimed me nearly every day, and forced me to get up.
**********
“You got everything in that bag, Mary Poppins?” Ella asked as I walked over toward where some of the girls were waiting outside the coach, I let a smirk cross my face and patted the duffel bag I had on my shoulder.
“Alright, leave my bag alone. I like to be prepared for anything.” I replied with a shrug and stuffing my hands in my pockets.
“What, like a natural disaster? You got a lifetime of food in there?” She laughed slightly as I raised my middle and index finger, telling her to fuck off.
“We all ready?” Marc asked holding a clipboard and looking over all of us like we were kids on a school trip.
“Are you ready?” Ona asked, whispering slightly to me as she was stood behind me, I knew why she’d asked, because of who we were travelling to play. Arsenal.
I smiled a thin lipped smile before following Tooney onto the coach, sitting next to her as Alessia and Mary sat the other side. I tried to drown out the thoughts that were now flooding my mind, and the anxiety that made me feel sick at the thought of even seeing her face again.
I threw my headphones in and threw my pre game playlist on, it mostly consisted of rock, rage against the machine, AC/DC, Def Leppard so on and so forth.
I crossed my arms over my chest and closed my eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone so they’d start a conversation.
*********
The 4 hour coach journey wasn’t too bad, I’d managed to somewhat calm my nerves, doing some affirmations, repeating to myself that I’m Y/N fucking Y/L/N. What have I got to be nervous about?
The coach pulled up in the carpark and I could see fans waiting behind the fences next to us, my eyes scanned them as I saw a fair amount of United shirts, I smiled and waved before walking over, something we weren’t supposed to do, but I hated the fact they’d waited there for us and nobody’s going over.
They all near screamed when I went over, I smiled and shook a few hands, saying a few hi’s, taking photos and signing one persons shirt. One of the Arsenal security men did come over and try to usher me inside faster.
“You’re such a softy for fans” Ella smiled slightly as she sat on the bench in the changing rooms putting her shin pads and socks on. I kept my puffer jacket on, the badge still over my heart, and my joggers with my initials and number 11 on them. I threw my shins on under my joggers and threw my socks and spare boots on. I rolled my socks right down so they were bunched around my ankles and tied my laces.
“Well I don’t like ignoring them. They came all this way to support us. And waited, it’s cold Ella” I laughed slightly before standing up and pulling the shorter girl with me. I wasn’t too tall, sitting at 5’7, which was a good average compared to some.
“In all seriousness, you ready?” She asked as we walked out of the tunnel toward the other end of the pitch to warm up both carrying our bottles. The Arsenal players were already out here warming up on the opposite side. It took everything in me not to look over, to look for her. I restrained myself, knowing eventually I’d have to see her, being a forward, but as of now, I need to pretend she’s not there. Keep my focus.
“I’m fine El. Grab a ball.” I nodded to her as Alessia walked over too, the three of us throwing our bottle off to the side while we waited for the rest of our team to come out and for one of the trainers.
We started kicking it in a triangle, talking as the stand filled up, I threw my hands in my pockets of my coat as I could feel them starting to freeze, only taking them out to smooth out my hair, my well known two braids into a bun.
“Okay girls, two lines behind the cones” We warmed up, all just taking the piss out of eachother, usual banter for us, before heading back inside the tunnel and to the changing room.
**********
We got into position after Marc announced the starting eleven. As usual I was upfront, we had kick off so I stood with the ball at my feet, my arms freezing off, but knowing I’d warm up after a while, as I love running laps around players.
The whistle blew and the game was off, I passed to Katie, who held it and waited for the Arsenal players to get stuck in. I found myself stood next to Laura, as I nudged her playfully, I had played for Arsenal for years, they were still like a family to me, and I stayed good friends with a few of them, especially Beth and Viv, it was difficult for them not to ask Leah and I about eachother but they tried their best.
“Ella. Ella!” I shouted to her as we were waiting for McCabe to take the throw in, my voice carrying, and harsh, I always sounded angry and authorative, the winger looked at me as I motioned for her to fall back slightly, to which she did, but when the throw in was taken she threw it to Viv who was unmarked, someone who should’ve been picked up by a defender, “Hey where were we?!”
I watched as Ona dealt with it and passed to Ella who carried it as far as she could up the pitch, before passing to me as I was running with her, I wasn’t vain or anything but I knew I was faster than any of the defenders at Arsenal, I was a fast runner to say the least.
I began to dribble forward towards where Zinsberger was waiting with open arms, when I saw a flash of red in the corner of my eye, and a slide tackle came at me, I knew exactly who it was, so when I saw her about to go down for it, I chipped the ball up and jumped forward over her, fast thinking, the thinking that got me nominated for a fair amount of awards. Once clear of her I kicked the ball into the top left corner, only cheering once I knew it had hit the net.
I felt Alessia run over and jump on my back, she had been running with me the entire time, just marked. I smiled and cheered as the fans erupted. I set her down as Tooney came running over and high fived me. I ran back into position high fiving a few of my team on the way, my eyes wandering to her, she looked like she was trying to hide her anger, as she walked back into her position, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. I still felt that anxious feeling but it wasn’t so bad anymore. She was staring at where Alessia’s hand was still on my shoulder.
My heart hurt though, regardless of what happened when we were together or how long we’ve been apart, I still loved her. My heart beat for that girl. That was until the 86th minute, when that flash of red took me off my feet in one of the dirtiest tackles I’d ever seen. Leah could be quite aggressive at times, but I never thought she’d pull something like this, no matter how angry she was.
I felt the air get knocked out of me as I rolled onto my back trying to breathe. Searing pain coming from my side, I felt someone land at my side, Alessia. I was slightly panicking. I had been winded before but never like this. I glanced at the blonde defender once where she stood with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth, not realising what she’d just done in blind rage.
The ref called for the medics as a few of the Arsenal players pulled Leah away and were all shocked at her behaviour. I covered my face with my arm as I tried to take at least one breath that wasn’t cut short.
“Y/N, I’m just gonna lift your shirt is that okay?“ The medic asked as she crouched down beside me, I nodded still not being able to speak, and gripping Alessia’s hand for dear life.
They pulled my shirt up their knuckle grazing my side ever so slightly making me let out a strangled yell, catching the attention of most players on the pitch, everyone looking over wanting to know what the damage was.
“Yeah..” The medic sighed, before waving the others over and signalling for them to get the stretcher. I couldn’t move my torso at the moment, my eyes watered knowing I’d be out for a while, as I let my head fall to the side seeing Leah stood there wiping her eyes, pushing anyone away who tried to touch her.
*********
“Knock knock” I heard someone announce before walking in, it was Ella, she stood there with a sympathetic smile and a bunch of flowers. I smiled and shook my head, “I’ve come take you home”
“Thankyou” I nodded sitting up, hissing in pain, and reaching for my shirt, seeing as though I was just in a sports bra and a big patch of gauze and tape on the right side of my torso. I could see some of the immediate bruising peeking over the top of it.
“How you feeling?” She asked as I stood up from the bed, holding my shirt in my hand.
“Like my ex just fractured two of my ribs.” I sighed with a slight smile, if I didn’t laugh I’d cry.
“Yeah, that was behind anything I’d seen before Y/N/N.” She shrugged, as another knock came from the door and Ella opened it, her face falling as she nodded for the blonde to come in.
“You’ve got some nerve” I shook my head as Ella slipped out of the room without another word obviously not wanting to be in the middle.
“I know, Y/N I’m so sorry I-“
“Sorry ain’t fixing this Leah. Sorry was when you’d accuse me of sleeping with Alessia. Sorry was when you’d call me when angry and drunk at 3am, this isn’t sorry Leah.” I shook my head as she looked down at my torso, where the abs I was so proud of were slightly covered. Her face going pale at the sight of the gauze.
“I know… I messed up, I did and I don’t know how I can fix it.”
“You can’t.” I reached for my shirt and pulled it on wincing and trying to control my breathing while pulling it down, I let out a sigh as she looked down, before looking out the window at the street lights, the time sitting at around 11pm, “I can’t play for 6 weeks.”
My eyes watered, as her face contorted into a look of pain and guilt as she looked away closing her eyes, she knew how much football meant to me. I lived and breathed it.
“I can’t play, and it’s your fault Leah. My god, you know I wanted to talk to you after the game. To tell you, I don’t even know what I wanted to tell you anymore. But now? Leah, in the past 4 months you’ve taken away the only two things my heart beats for…”
“Two?”
“Just go” I shook my head and turned away from her, I heard some shuffling and a pause before, the door opened and closed, allowing me to finally let the tears flow.
Part 2?
#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson#arsenal women#manchester united women#ella toone#alessia russo#ona batlle#imagine#football#wlw imagine#lgbtq#wlw love#lgbtlove
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What If Luca Didn’t Go to the Party
This is my first ever Zsakuva Fanfic so bear with me on this 🙏🏿
masterlist
It was a late Saturday evening. Luca was lying in his dorm room, staring at the ceiling and feeling empty. He had finished all he needed to do, and all that was left was to relax. He had been invited to a party but didn’t feel like going. What would he even do at a party? It came as a shock when someone actually invited him; it must’ve been a joke to get a reaction out of him—who knows? The night was quiet, aside from the occasional ventilation turning on and off, the faint sounds of upbeat music echoing across the campus, and moans of couples haunting the hallways. Here he was, alone in his bed.
Deciding to make a stand, he put on his nice clothes and headed for the door, determined to make his presence known at the university. But when his hand touched the door, something changed. Visions of doubt, insecurities, and the years of bullying he’d endured flooded his mind. He wanted to be strong; he wanted to try something new, but the pain was just too much to handle. What was he to do—stay home and let his insecurities and doubts win, or let himself be free? It took everything in his power to keep his hand on the doorknob and turn it fully. He was almost there, the door beginning to open, his vision starting to blur. It felt like time was running out if he didn’t make a decision. In the end… he shut the door and locked it.
“Weak,” that’s all he could hear in his head. A weak person, he thought. He lay down on the sofa, turned the TV on, and watched whatever was playing, tears streaming down his face. What was he to become if he couldn’t even muster up the courage to just be a person?
His phone lit up with a notification from his mom. She was his safe place, the person he could turn to whenever something went wrong and he didn’t know the answer. He called her and waited as the line buzzed. “Hello,” she said, her voice like a cloud—so soft and welcoming.
“Mom, I—” he stuttered, tears rolling down his face.
“Hey, honey!” she spoke with excitement; just getting a call from her son made her day, judging by the silence and occasional weeping on the other line. “What’s wrong, baby?” Anytime Luca was sad or upset, his parents were there for him, no matter what giant missile life threw at him.
“Mom, I don’t know what to do,” he began to cry, his voice cracking, He had explained to her about his invite to the party and what just happened and the meltdown he had.
“Aww, baby, it’s okay to not know the answer.” Hearing his mom understand him relaxed him, calming his breath. “Sweetheart, I understand how you’re feeling. It’s completely normal to be scared about going to a party, especially when you’re unsure of what to expect. Remember, it’s okay to feel nervous.”
His breath hitched; he began to hiccup. “Maybe you could talk to a friend who’s going and see how they feel about it?” Thinking about what she said, he realized he didn’t really have any friends in university or anywhere in London. So, what was the next best option?
“Think about what you might enjoy about the party—like meeting new people or having fun with friends. If you decide to go, just be yourself. And if you feel uncomfortable at any point, it’s okay to leave. Your feelings matter, and I’m here to support you, no matter what you choose.”
He began to calm down. Just a couple of minutes ago, it felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him, but hearing his mother’s voice was enough to wash away everything. He wanted to change the topic to avoid the emotional roller coaster he had just thrown at her, but then he heard a door open and a heavy grunt—Luca’s dad was home.
“I have to go, Luca; your father just got back from the store. But we can talk tomorrow. Does that sound good?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Luca replied. There was nothing more he enjoyed than unwinding with his mother; she always had the right answer.
“Mom, I do have one more thing to say.” There was something that had been bothering him lately, and he needed the answer to free his mind. “Can it wait until tomorrow, dear? Your father appears to be struggling.” Disappointed, he reluctantly agreed.
“Of course, Mom,” he said sadly. Judging by his tone, his mom could tell he wanted to talk but couldn’t stop himself from waiting. His father did have a bad back.
“Well, okay. I have to go. Mommy and Daddy love you very much, Luca. Kisses,” she said.
“I love you too, Mom.” She hung up as soon as he responded; she was in a rush. He understood his parents had their own lives, but they always made time for him.
Turning off his phone, Luca made up his mind. Grabbing his laptop that was still on the coffee table, he looked for available flights home after his graduation. There was no one he had to stay with; he didn’t have friends here, and he wasn’t in a relationship this town wouldn’t miss him. Luca let out a heavy breath and flipped through the channels, trying to relax. “I’m here,” he thought. He felt comfortable. Soon, in the next few months, he’d be home—there’s no place like home.
Not more than a couple of miles away, a lonely person stood next to a table full of drinks. They seemed dazed and confused. “Ayo ___, come and dance with me,” a friend said. Looking at them, they replied, “Meh, I don’t know.”
Their friend looked at them, concerned. “Yo ___, you alright? You seem troubled.” They were troubled; something didn’t feel right. He took their hand, wrapping his other arm around their waist, twirling them to him. Nothing else mattered but having ___ someone he longed to hold in his arms, someone he was now face to face with, just a few inches apart.
“I don’t know; I just have a weird feeling,” they said, backing up and looking around.
“Feeling? Like what?” he asked.
“Like someone was supposed to be here…”
#sakuverse#zsakuva#luca pearce#peppymintdreamsproduction#zsakuva luca#luca zsakuva#luca#sakuversetwistoffate
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Red Ferrari
Chapter 8
Summary: Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car
AO3 link Chapter 7 Chapter 9
a/n: this chapter has dual POV, both Eris's and Azriel's perspectives start at +- same time, so I hope I won't confuse you with the chronology of this chapter
“You fucked up,” Lucien told him bluntly when Eris recounted what had happened the morning after the incident. “You really fucked up.”
Eris rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “As if I didn’t realize it myself,” while continuing to listen to his younger brother criticize his decisions. Perhaps hiding his marriage from Azriel wasn’t the best decision. He acknowledged that. But looking back, Eris couldn’t imagine a context where he suddenly announced that he was still married and asked Azriel to believe that it wasn’t such a big problem. Because he was forced into marriage. Because he was already getting a divorce. If it weren’t for Morrigan being such a bitch about the division of property, they would have divorced long ago, and he wouldn’t be here. But the fact that he didn’t tell Azriel about the marriage, much to his regret, was his fault. Not Mor’s.
“I don’t think he would’ve been that upset if you had told him right away,” Lucien continued, pacing around his living room. Eris’s head was starting to ache from his circling. “It would have saved you a lot of problems, you know.”
“I get it,” Eris repeated once again.
“You’re an idiot,” his younger brother told him once again.
“I got that too. I asked for advice on how to fix it.”
“Well, I think you were born that way…” Lucien started before a cushion hit him in the head. “Alright! I don’t know how to help you.”
“Then what’s the point of you?”
“Moral support? But seriously, I have no idea what to do in these situations. The only time Elain was seriously mad at me was when I came to take care of her flowers while she was out of town, mixed up the pots, and for a week watered her plants incorrectly, killing one of them.”
“How did you apologize?” Eris asked, not believing that he was getting involved in a conflict about a dead plant. For a moment, he thought that no flower would have survived with him.
“With all due respect but killing an unfortunate orchid and hiding the existence of a wife are slightly different levels, Eris,” Lucien told him, but continued when his older brother glared at him. “I bought a new orchid, learned how to take care of every plant in her room, and recited it to her from memory. And a date at a pottery workshop where we made and painted new pots for her flowers together.”
“I doubt clay pots will help me,” Eris sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“Maybe he's a fan of such things,” Lucien shrugged.
“He's more likely to want to throw it at me.”
“That’s useful too.”
Eris rolled his eyes, understanding that he wouldn’t get more out of this conversation. And it’s not like he expected to get any real advice from his younger brother, who had a perfect personal life. But Lucien was the only option he had to talk to about this.
“Apologize,” was all Lucien said.
“I’d love to if he picked up the phone and agreed to talk,” Eris replied bitterly.
“When has it ever stopped you that someone didn’t pick up the phone?” his younger brother snorted.
Eris went to the workshop right after that conversation, hoping to see Azriel there and talk. He didn’t know yet what exactly he should say because, in his experience, there was never a moment when he needed to apologize in a relationship. He generally wasn’t in relationships, at least not serious ones. The marriage didn’t count since more than half the time he and Mor were at each other’s throats and wanted to kill each other after conflicts, not apologize.
So, Eris was hoping for his speech skills, honed over years in court sessions. And he hoped that his mistake wasn’t fatal in his relationship with Azriel because… well, he didn’t want to lose Azriel.
Parking and getting out of the car, Eris frowned immediately upon seeing his Porsche in an open garage, being worked on by some mechanic. A mechanic who wasn’t Azriel. He made a mental note to kill Lucien and never lend him a car again.
Approaching the Porsche, Eris politely cleared his throat, causing the mechanic to notice him. The mechanic turned around and looked him over, obviously recognizing him, as Eris had seen him a couple of times before when he had visited this place.
“Is Azriel here?” Eris asked directly. The mechanic frowned.
“No,” he shook his head. “Do you need something?”
“Not from you. When is his shift?”
“Today,” he answered simply. “Don’t you guys talk? Why don’t you ask him directly?”
Eris frowned, not wanting to explain the details of his personal life to some random guy at the service station. He mentally understood that he was in the wrong now and snapping at the poor guy was completely wrong. However, in the last twelve hours, his stress levels had risen to record levels, and Eris wasn’t sure he wouldn’t snap at any moment.
Exhaling loudly, he forced himself to calm down. “If I could ask him directly, I would have done it. Don’t you think? Just tell me when he’s on his next shift.”
“Alright, I’ll call you when I find out myself,” the mechanic shrugged. “By the way, isn’t that your car?” he nodded towards the Porsche. Eris glanced at the license plate, although he already knew without it that the car was his.
“It’s mine,” he nodded, handing his business card to the mechanic. “Call me when you’re done.”
After that, Eris turned and walked back to his car, thinking about what to do next. He remembered Azriel’s address and could, in theory, go there, but before that, he called him several times, hoping that Azriel would still pick up the phone. However, after the third call went to voicemail, Eris finally decided to give it a try.
He arrived at Azriel’s address closer to the evening, hoping they could talk. However, the problems began at the stage of finding his apartment since Eris knew the building but not the floor or apartment number. Well, he had to rely on luck. Unfortunately, luck hadn’t been on his side lately, but Eris had no other ideas.
Looking around and studying the building, he finally managed to spot Azriel, who was watching him through a window. But as soon as their eyes met, he closed the curtains. Well, now he at least knew the right floor.
Eris dialed his number, not really hoping for anything, and as he expected, Azriel didn’t answer. And instead of leaving him alone like any normal person would and giving him time to think, Eris couldn’t think of anything better than to stay there and hope that Azriel would change his mind.
He had to wait a long time for that. Good thing he had iron patience and the ability to postpone work indefinitely to hang around here all day.
Alright, maybe it hadn’t been his best idea, as it clearly wasn’t working. Azriel refused to talk to him, and Eris honestly had no idea what he needed to do to even get a chance to apologize. Not to fix everything, but just to say, "I'm sorry, I was wrong."
He spent almost the entire weekend outside Azriel’s house, feeling like a damn stalker.
By Monday evening, he had to leave because Mor had called him to talk properly. Eris told her straight that he would only speak to her lawyer because right now, he hated her twice as much. How the hell was he supposed to guess that she had been seeing Azriel when she herself told him that men didn’t attract her?
Well, if that was her plan to make him open up and trust her more, it worked. Because Eris was still in a vulnerable position due to her blackmail and his own stubbornness, which prevented him from blackmailing her back. He wasn’t going to stoop to her level. But the folder with the information in his bottom desk drawer was still there, waiting for a worst-case scenario.
And yet, here he was, talking to her lawyer and her cousin, who was trying to burn him with his gaze. Well, good luck with that because Eris couldn’t give less of a damn about this jerk. If he wanted to blame him for the fact that Azriel wasn’t talking to either of them now—and judging by the look on that jerk’s face, he did—Eris didn’t feel guilty about it. His problems. Eris had screwed up on his side too and was now dealing with all this shit, but he wasn’t trying to blame anyone.
"It would be easier for me to just go to court and split the property fifty-fifty," Eris grumbled, glancing at what this pseudo-lawyer was shoving in front of him. Even his toilet paper looked better than this document.
"My client insists on exactly this arrangement," the bastard said. Mor’s cousin also nodded, about to say something, but Eris cut him off.
"Well, to hell with that client," he snapped. "If she wants to take this to court again and waste more of her money on lawyers, more power to her. I’m not signing this."
With those words, he grabbed his briefcase and left the building. He didn’t have the patience to deal with these idiots. This divorce was slowly draining all his energy, and honestly? He was fed up. Fed up with being cautious around Mor, fearing she’d carry out her threat. Fed up with participating in these negotiations that led nowhere. Fed up with thinking about what to do with both his father and Mor’s father, who were both trying to threaten him.
Eris thought about how much he would have liked to spend time with Azriel right now. But that was impossible because Azriel was ignoring him. A few days ago, he made another stupid decision, thinking that since Azriel wasn’t responding to his calls or messages, he could try a different approach. So Eris simply transferred a small amount of money, just within a hundred dollars, with the note, "Ready to talk?"
Was it worth it? Maybe. Did Azriel block transfers from him afterward? Yes.
So now all he could do was sit in his car under Azriel’s window and pray that they could have a proper conversation. Which was basically what Eris had been doing all week.
He postponed their second hearing with Mor. Or rather, he forced Mor to postpone the hearing because the poor thing’s lawyer had quit. Eris thought about how useful it was to have so many connections. A few hints, one veiled threat to ruin the client base and career, and this jerk was already running with his tail between his legs.
Eris wondered why he hadn’t thought of this sooner. Just out of spite, he could drive all of Mor’s lawyers to quit so she’d have to spend more money and time finding new ones. He could definitely make that his hobby.
On Wednesday, someone almost stole his wheels.
Eris had only stepped away for a few minutes to go to the store, to buy water and stretch his legs—sitting in the car for several hours wasn’t exactly comfortable—and when he returned, he saw a bunch of guys in hoodies with tools running away from his car. He looked around and saw Azriel watching him through the window. He clearly either shouted at those bastards or threw something at them.
"I warned you," Azriel shouted from the window, and it was the first thing he’d said in days. The last time they’d spoken was when Eris had asked him to talk on the third day of waiting in the parking lot. Azriel had told him to shut up and leave.
"Thanks," Eris replied.
Azriel stared down at him for a few seconds and then closed the curtains. Classic.
He didn’t make any progress throughout the entire week.
Eris thought about alternative options while sitting in his apartment with the curtains tightly closed—there was something uncomfortable about panoramic windows lately. Maybe it was just his paranoia reaching new heights because the feeling that someone was following him kept getting stronger. At some point, he started memorizing the license plates of nearby parked or passing cars, just to make sure they weren’t the same cars every time. In general, he had one more reason to visit a therapist.
Late in the evening, when he was sitting with a glass of whiskey and his laptop, trying to sort out a client’s case that he had foolishly put off until the last minute, a message came to his phone. Some might call it an obsession; Eris would call it rationality, but Azriel’s number had its own ringtones—it saved him from unnecessary anticipation every time notifications or calls came to his phone. And this time, it really was Azriel.
Surprised, Eris reached for his phone and opened their chat, seeing a very long voice message. Realizing what time it was, he understood that it was probably recorded in a less-than-sober state, and he could have been respectful and not listened to it, so as not to put Azriel in an awkward position later. But honestly, Eris couldn’t contain his curiosity. And he had to admit, he missed hearing his voice.
In the voice message, Azriel talked several times about what an idiot Eris was, how it was such a bastard move to hide his marriage to Mor, how he hated Mor, how he hated Eris for not getting out of his head, and a lot more along those lines. And there were a few phrases that Eris couldn’t make out, no matter how hard he tried, because of the background noise.
However, he was at least grateful to Azriel for mentioning the name of the bar where he and some girl, judging by the sounds in the background and her supportive comments, were sitting.
Eris spent a few minutes debating whether it was worth going there himself, considering that Azriel had said in the voice message that he didn’t want to see him, and the fact that Eris had already had a fair amount to drink himself, which meant he couldn’t drive—technically couldn’t, not that it would necessarily stop him.
In the end, he dialed the number of the mechanic who had repaired his Porsche, knowing that he was a friend of Azriel’s and was likely to either help himself or know other people who could help.
The next day, he spent in court, defending a client and winning another case. Eris wanted to go to Azriel today, but something held him back. Maybe it was Azriel's harsh words yesterday about still not wanting to see Eris. Or perhaps he was just tired after a day spent in a seven-hour hearing, and it was already late in the evening.
In any case, after court, Eris went home. Parking and getting out of the car, he was walking toward the elevator when he noticed a familiar car. License plates he had already seen. Fuck.
Just as he was about to turn around and go back to his car, someone punched him right in the spleen, causing him to choke on his breath and double over.
"Eris, Eris…" a familiar voice said his name mockingly.
"Is that how you greet your beloved son-in-law?" Eris rasped with a laugh as he was grabbed by the elbows from both sides. He didn’t resist – even if he wanted to, his chances in a fight against several people were somewhere between zero and negative. Knowing Keir's people, he would have preferred not to end up in this situation at all. "What happened to simpler methods of greeting?"
"You wouldn’t be here if you’d meet me halfway," Keir said coldly.
Good news? His paranoia wasn’t just paranoia. Bad news? He was still here and very much at risk of being beaten.
And it would be good if it were just a beating because Eris froze as soon as Keir pulled out a gun, striking him hard with the butt of it. He hissed at the blow, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth from a split lip.
"I’ve known you since you were a child," Keir told him, and Eris looked up at him with pure hatred. "And in my mind, you’re still the boy running in your father’s shadow."
At these words, Eris jerked hard in the grip, but the hands holding him only tightened their hold. Keir hummed quietly, apparently not surprised but amused.
"Maybe that’s why I never thought you’d pull such a stupid stunt," he continued, spinning the gun in his hand. Eris wondered if the bullets were rubber and whether the gun was loaded at all. If Keir was against the divorce, obviously, he needed him alive.
"The intimidation worked," Eris told him, unable to tear his eyes away from the gun in his hand. "I’m trembling with fear; please forgive me, I solemnly swear not to offend your bitch of a daughter and live with her happily ever after, although I doubt you care more about her happiness than the number of zeros in my father’s bank."
Well, if he got killed, at least he would know he deserved it. Keir laughed coldly before punching him again, this time with a fist to the cheekbone. Groaning quietly, Eris breathed deeply, trying to ignore the throbbing pain and the sharp wave of childhood memories with a similar outcome.
He managed to smirk when Keir lifted his head by his hair, forcing him to look at him. Because, fortunately, or unfortunately, Keir wasn’t his father and didn’t instill the same fear, even if he had a group of men with machine guns here.
"I don’t care whether you stay married to Morrigan or not," Keir said, surprising him. "All I need is for your father to keep his part of our deal."
"And what deal is worth your daughter’s life?" Eris asked.
"Your father knows, and that’s enough."
"Great, so disabling the parking cameras—because I know you’re not a complete idiot and did that—involving people to hack the building’s security system, stalking me for the past few weeks, and the other organizational aspects of this intimidation were for what?" Eris looked him in the eye, understanding that it was better not to anger a man with a gun, but he had just finished a damn tough shift, and they literally beat him up in his own home’s parking lot. The adrenaline of the last few minutes fully allowed him not to fear for his life. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
"To say, ‘tell your father this…’, although you could’ve just contacted Beron directly, who’s also not thrilled about the divorce and who will likely agree to keep whatever deal you made without involving me and Mor."
The safety clicked. Double fuck.
"If I ask you to do something, be so kind as not to ask questions," Keir hissed, grabbing Eris tightly by the jaw. "Your father may be against the divorce, but I want to ensure that he fulfills his part of the deal. And if I need all these ‘organizational aspects’ for that, so be it."
"Irrational waste of resources, now I at least know that Mor takes after her father," Eris scoffed, and that seemed to be the last straw because Keir pressed the barrel of the gun to his cheek, making him involuntarily swallow nervously.
"Go on," Keir said with a sick grin. "No, really, I’m curious how much more you want to tell me."
"I doubt my father will keep his part of the deal if you shoot me."
"Didn’t know Beron was famous as father of the year."
"We both know it’s a matter of honor, not love for children. He probably won’t like you maiming his heir."
For a few seconds, Keir stared into his eyes before lowering the trigger. Click. Eris exhaled quietly, realizing the gun wasn’t loaded. Keir's men released him, and he almost collapsed to the ground.
"You have a week, after which I expect a call from your father saying he intends to keep his promises," Keir said sternly, beginning to walk toward his car. "And, Eris, next time the gun will be loaded," he threw back as a final warning.
Eris watched him go, spending a few minutes, maybe hours, maybe seconds, in a trance until one of the other residents asked if he was okay. Lying about a boxing club, Eris waved off the concerned neighbor, who was worried by the "technical issues" that had apparently kept him from entering the parking lot for the last thirty minutes.
As he rode the elevator to his apartment, Eris realized his hands were trembling uncontrollably. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, trying not to think about the possibility that his whole body was shaking. He became acutely aware of it when he tried to insert the key and unlock the door.
He wasn’t sure he could close the door when he walked inside. He did close it. At least he thought he did. Feeling his strength leave him entirely, Eris slid down the wall, closing his eyes and urging himself to calm down. In vain. His chest throbbed irregularly, blood pounded in his temples, and breathing came in gasps. Panic. Damn panic.
He didn’t remember how he pulled out his phone. Didn’t remember how he dialed the number and put the phone to his ear, didn’t remember how many rings he listened to before someone answered, hundreds, thousands, or maybe just two.
"Fuck, if you think you can just…" came the irritated but so familiar and needed voice.
"Azriel," Eris forced himself to say hoarsely. On the other end, there was silence, the unspoken grievances halted.
"Eris?" this time he asked with concern.
"Azriel," Eris swallowed and knocked his head against the wall. "I need you."
***
When the emotions cooled down, all that remained was a huge exhaustion.
Azriel stood by the road, trying to catch any car, but after five minutes, his patience ran out, and he started walking home on foot. Walking through the night streets felt therapeutic, much calmer than he thought he should be. Because Azriel was not calm, but with each step, the anger gradually faded, leaving only a dull ache in his chest.
His thoughts were spinning wildly in his head until he reached home about an hour later. And there, Azriel was too tired to think about anything other than how badly he needed to sleep.
The next day, he wasn't at the workshop, just as he had told Rhysand. Ignoring numerous missed calls from people he currently wanted nothing to do with, Azriel texted Amren, asking her to arrange some time off for him—paid or unpaid, he didn’t care. Any leave would do.
He could have not texted at all, because what could Rhysand do? Fire him? Azriel just scoffed at the thought and opened a chat with Cassian, asking him to finish the repairs on the Porsche and a few other cars that were in Azriel’s garage, so they could be completed today. Cassian asked why he wasn’t at work, but Azriel didn’t reply, having no desire to explain.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he was here, feeling like a complete idiot, when all he wanted was just a bit of honesty from the people around him. It wasn’t such a difficult or impossible task—not to hide things from him. Azriel found himself feeling exactly as he had four years ago when he learned about Mor’s betrayal.
But back then, despite the pain and anger, he had felt a certain relief that the confusing nightmare he somehow considered a relationship was over. Now, he didn’t feel that relief. Instead, there was an unpleasant ache somewhere inside, refusing to go away. There was also an unpleasant ache at the thought that he wasn’t going to let Eris back into his life. Yet Azriel thought it was the right decision.
He spent the rest of the day on the couch, not knowing how else to occupy himself other than mindlessly flipping through TV channels and eating reheated frozen pizza, which only God knows how long had been in his freezer. Somewhere between a melodrama about a farm girl and a rich businessman from the city and a documentary about sharks, Azriel got up from his place and went back to the kitchen for a third bottle of beer.
Something made him look out the window, and he noticed the familiar red Ferrari parked outside his house. Oh, for fuck's sake.
He watched through the window as Eris got out of the car, looking around, then scanning the building, not knowing which floor Azriel lived on. And when Eris finally saw him, Azriel closed the curtains. His phone immediately started ringing from the next room, and he didn’t need to be a psychic to understand who exactly was on the other end. However, he had no desire to talk to him.
Azriel couldn’t say exactly how long Eris stayed under his window after that because he kept telling himself that he didn’t care at all how Eris spent his time. If he wanted to continue waiting in the parking lot, hoping Azriel would change his mind and come out to talk to him, then let him do so. But hours later, when Azriel glanced out the window out of curiosity, Eris's car was still there.
It was still there in the morning when Azriel woke up and made coffee. It was there in the afternoon when he cooked lunch from the remaining groceries in the fridge, hoping he wouldn’t have to leave the apartment to go to the store. In the evening, when Azriel checked the stock of frozen pizza, the car was still there. Each time he looked out the window, Eris's car was in the parking lot.
It was the same the next day. Azriel continued to ignore calls, responding only to Cassian and warning him that if he was currently with Rhysand or planned to pass on his messages, he would also be added to the list of people Azriel was currently cutting out of his life. Cassian didn’t ask questions about what had happened, only asked if he was okay and if he needed him to come over. Azriel said he’d answer that later, to both questions. Because for now, he had no idea.
And yet, his fridge was slowly running out of food, and he wasn’t in a financial position to rely solely on delivery services, the fees for which were absurdly and unfairly high, so with a heavy sigh, Azriel decided to step outside to the nearest store.
When he stepped out of his building, the red Ferrari was still parked almost at the entrance. Its owner was sitting inside and quickly noticed Azriel, getting out of the car.
“Don’t,” Azriel said strictly, extending his hand forward. Eris stopped, swallowing whatever he was about to say, waiting for further instructions. “Just shut up. And be careful with the car, in this neighborhood, the wheels can be stolen,” Azriel remarked with a cold smirk before continuing on his way to the nearest supermarket. Despite his warning, Eris followed him. Well, it’s not like he would be worried about the wheels.
Azriel successfully ignored his presence, and Eris remained strangely silent as he followed him. Well, technically, he had told him to shut up, and it’s not like he was complaining now that Eris was just doing what he asked. However, the fact that Eris was following him closely was getting on his nerves. Really getting on his nerves.
Nevertheless, being the stubborn idiot that he was, Azriel continued to pay no attention to him, throwing the necessary groceries into the basket. He also ignored him when the cashier gave Eris a strange look and then whispered, asking if everything was okay with Azriel. He just shrugged, muttering that it was doubtful, and took the bags of groceries.
They walked back to the apartment in the same manner, and Azriel didn’t look back, already about to open the door when Eris finally broke the silence.
“Can we talk?” he asked. “Please?”
Azriel turned around, looking at him with indifference. “Later.” And left.
Back in the apartment, he wanted to hit himself harder just for the thought that crossed his mind about actually talking to Eris. Calmly and like an adult. But the more petty and wounded part of him kept repeating that Eris lied to him. And didn’t even intend to tell the truth, which made it all much worse.
In the evening, the Ferrari wasn’t there, and Azriel didn’t understand if he felt relieved or disappointed because of this fact.
The next day, however, the Ferrari returned. It stood in its rightful place while local boys ran around with admiring eyes, approaching closer to take photos. Azriel just snorted, watching this. He stood on the porch of the house, waiting for Cassian with his car, which had been sitting in the workshop all this time.
Eris stood by his car, paying no attention to the kids and teenagers gawking at the Ferrari. Azriel just frowned every time he couldn’t help but look in his direction, meeting his gaze.
When Cassian arrived, parking the car, he glanced oddly at Eris and Azriel, still not knowing what had happened but sensing nothing good. He handed Azriel the keys, asking if he wanted to have a drink together. Azriel just replied that not today, but he was seriously considering the offer.
And then he watched in surprise as Nesta's familiar car drove into the parking lot, toward which Cassian headed. It seemed he had missed a lot.
Giving Eris one last look, Azriel went back home.
“How long are you going to ignore him?” Cassian asked, lying on the couch and eating his chips. Azriel threw a pillow at him, but the bastard dodged it. “What? Poor guy comes here every day, you could’ve talked by now.”
It was true. Eris had been coming here every day for the past week, but Azriel refused to talk to him. Not because he liked making him drive across the city and torturing him with waiting. Because… Azriel didn’t know why. He just didn’t feel ready to talk about all of this.
Just like he refused to go to work at the workshop, blocking Rhysand and asking Cassian to tell him not to even think about showing up at his house. Azriel would definitely get a headache if Rhysand joined Eris under his windows.
“He sits in his car, in a luxurious car, I must note,” Azriel shrugged, grabbing a handful of Cassian’s chips. “It’s not that much of a torture.”
“And you’re sitting here like a hermit, growing a beard,” Cassian replied, and Azriel ran a hand over his grown stubble. Now that he had reduced his outings to a minimum, exploiting Cassian as a grocery deliverer, shaving every two days seemed pointless. “Soon you’ll run off into the forest and chase after dwarves.”
“Or hunt witches, if I’m lucky,” Azriel grumbled.
“There are no cars to fix in the forest,” Cassian noted.
“And far fewer idiots.”
“There’s no me in the forest.”
“That’s exactly what I said,” after these words, the pillow he had thrown at Cassian earlier hit his head. Azriel didn’t have time to dodge.
“You’re being ungrateful to the only person talking to you right now,” Cassian shook his head. Azriel didn’t remind him that he was choosing not to talk to the two idiots who were still leaving messages and calls on his phone.
Cassian stayed with him until the evening, trying to entertain and keep Azriel from feeling like he was going through a depressive episode. Why the hell was he even letting this whole situation affect him so much? But the truth was, he felt terrible. And in the loneliness of the apartment, his thoughts consumed him with double the force. But with Cassian, they quieted down, at least for a while.
The next evening, tired of loneliness, Azriel spent at a bar with Gwyn, finally having time to meet her after a long period.
“So, what happened?” she asked right after the first shots.
“Why do you think something happened?” Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Come on, how many times have you invited me out for a drink just because you missed me?” she chuckled, shaking her head.
“I missed you,” Azriel said. “I’m fine. I can have a drink with my friend once a month without any reason.”
“And without your new red-haired friend,” Gwyn noted. Damn perceptive people.
Azriel ordered another round of shots, Gwyn still looking at him expectantly. And despite the fact that Azriel knew she would figure it out eventually, he wasn’t too eager to go into details. However, those very details came out on their own as he got more intoxicated.
“What an asshole,” Gwyn muttered, wrinkling her nose. “Did he apologize?”
“I’ve been ignoring him for more than a week now,” Azriel said, and Gwyn frowned even more. “What?”
“You’re an idiot,” she said bluntly.
“I’m an idiot?”
“You’re an idiot,” Gwyn nodded, repeating it again. “You always do this when you’re upset. You ignore people, not giving them a chance to speak.”
“We’re here because someone didn’t speak up in time,” Azriel noted. “It’s not my fault I don’t want to deal with Eris now.”
“Well… you’re drinking, you’re talking about him with me, and you’re obviously upset. I think you want to deal with him, it’s just your stupid head that’s not letting you realize it.”
“Gwyn, he’s literally married!”
“Azriel, he’s literally getting a divorce! How often do rich lawyers ready to apologize to you for days on end fall into your lap? Probably not that often,” she snorted. “I’m not saying you should forgive him or anything like that. No, I wouldn’t be thrilled either if I found out something like that about someone I date. But I would at least give him a chance to apologize and explain before cutting all ties.”
Azriel remained silent, downing another shot instead of answering. Gwyn didn’t lag behind, downing her glass as well. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should have listened to Eris before deciding that it was over. Because at the end of the day, Azriel might have missed him. Just a little. And maybe, just maybe, he was hoping that Eris would keep coming back.
About an hour later, this all escalated to the stage of recording voice messages he would regret the next morning. Unfortunately, Gwyn didn’t stop him. Instead, she actually encouraged the idea.
Another half hour later, they apparently accidentally called someone else, because Cassian and Nesta showed up at the bar, grabbing them by the elbows and leading them to the car. Gwyn protested that there were still uneaten fruits in her cocktail, which forced Nesta to promise to buy her pineapple in the morning—a promise she clearly had no intention of keeping. And Azriel grumbled that Cassian was whipped, earning an icy glare from Nesta, but he was too drunk to care.
Despite his intoxication, Nesta's threat to kill him and dump his body in the woods if he dared to puke in her car felt very real and registered in his mind quite clearly.
Azriel didn't remember exactly how he got to his apartment. Regardless, he woke up with a hangover, completely alone.
He didn't have the courage to listen to the voice message he sent Eris last night, but the message has been read and listened to, so he was definitely fucked.
Knowing that Eris most likely listened to a voice message full of drunken rambling, careless confessions, and rude insults—Azriel knew himself well enough to be almost certain that this disastrous trio was in that damn message—he felt a serious wave of shame.
He wasn't sure yet whether he needed to clarify that everything said in the message was just drunken nonsense, following way too many shots of whatever cocktails Gwyn had chosen for them. Considering that back in college, the two of them could down a bottle of tequila and still stay conscious, Gwyn's taste in drinks should have been approached with caution. But last night, Azriel was too upset to care about what he was drinking. And now he was dealing with the consequences.
On the other hand, Eris wasn't an idiot and probably realized that a voice message with slurred words and the sounds of a bar in the background wasn't exactly recorded sober. Maybe he didn't listen to it all the way through. Azriel desperately hoped that was the case.
Azriel found himself staring out the window, hoping against hope to see Eris's car parked outside again. This time, he was ready to go out and talk, despite the headache and the feeling that he'd been run over by a bus multiple times. He couldn't pinpoint when the sight of Eris's car and the man himself on the street had become such a familiar occurrence. But today, the usual parking spot was empty, and the silence in his apartment felt suffocating.
His phone rang, and Azriel genuinely thought it might be Eris, but it turned out to be Cassian. Well, he should probably apologize for dragging Cassian and Nesta out to pick them up last night.
"Still alive?" Cassian asked, his voice laced with a teasing tone.
"Just barely," Azriel grumbled, still feeling the throbbing in his temples. "Sorry for bothering you last night. I don't even remember calling you."
"You didn’t," Cassian replied simply. Azriel frowned, not understanding.
"Did Gwyn call Nesta?" he asked, trying to clarify.
"As far as I know, no. Eris called me. He still had my number from when I fixed his Porsche. Said you even gave him your address and asked me to pick you up because you told him you didn't want to see him."
Azriel didn't know whether he wanted to die from embarrassment or the hangover. The preferred scenario was for the ground to open up and swallow him whole because he hadn't expected this turn of events.
"And what the hell?" Azriel asked, not even sure what exactly he was questioning. What the hell was Eris thinking, calling Cassian? What the hell was Cassian thinking, giving him his number? What the hell was Cassian thinking, not mentioning this earlier? Or maybe he had, but Azriel was too drunk to understand it last night. And seriously, what the hell was going on with his life?
"Well, it was late, and Eris sounded really convincing," Cassian explained. "I don't envy you, though."
"Just kill me, seriously," Azriel groaned.
"Take some painkillers, get some sleep, and when you wake up, finally talk to him," Cassian advised. "Call if you need anything. Nesta is making some recovery soup for Gwyn. I can bring some over if you're completely unable to function today."
Azriel didn't ask whose apartment they were all in together and since when Nesta and Cassian were even staying in the same place. Instead, he thanked him for the offer and ended the call.
He really should sort out the hangover first and then, with a clear head, deal with the consequences of his questionable decisions. That's why, like a responsible adult with many problems to solve, he went back to bed, praying that either a meteorite would strike the Earth, rendering everyone's problems irrelevant, or that the gods would take pity on him and magically resolve all his issues.
Unfortunately, upon waking, neither of those things had happened, but he did feel ready to finally talk like a grown-up. Azriel looked around, trying to find his phone while also trying to figure out whether the clock showing six meant it was morning or evening, given that it was hard to tell from the darkness outside.
He found his phone and pondered whether to text or call or wait for Eris to call next so that the apology initiative would still seem to come from Eris. As he mulled this over, he looked for something edible in the fridge.
But in the end, he called, dialing Eris's number, only to reach voicemail. Either this was a sick relay race of "ignore each other", which they had been passing back and forth for the past two weeks, or something else was going on because what the actual hell? Azriel frowned and called again, getting the same result. Not that anything could have changed in those few minutes, but he still hoped.
Deciding to screw it, pride be damned, Azriel texted him, briefly saying they could talk. But over the next three hours, the message remained unread and unanswered, sitting there lonely in the chat, right after that idiotic voice message.
Logically, Azriel knew that Eris had a life—he still had work and, as much as it pained Azriel to admit, some semblance of a family with Mor. But the irrational part of him was angry that just when he wanted to patch things up and give Eris a chance to apologize, Eris suddenly stopped responding.
Or maybe Azriel had made it all too clear that he didn't want to continue anything. After all, even he wouldn't chase after someone for this long, so maybe Eris had grown tired of chasing him, realizing Azriel wouldn't give him a chance.
As Azriel resigned himself to just going back to bed and dealing with things with a fresh mind in the morning, he finally got a call from Eris. It brought both relief and irritation in equal measure.
“Fuck, if you think you can just…” he started, not giving Eris time for a greeting.
“Azriel,” Eris’s voice came through, surprisingly hoarse and quiet. Azriel immediately stopped, frowning—something in Eris's voice made him instantly alert.
“Eris?” Azriel asked, his concern growing as he listened to the uneven breathing on the other end, already preparing to ask what had happened.
“Azriel. I need you,” Eris said—softly, hoarsely, and brokenly, and those words clenched something tight in Azriel’s chest, a lump rising in his throat.
“What happened? Are you home?” he asked, standing up and frantically looking for his jacket and car keys. The silence on the other end only made him more anxious with each passing second. “Eris?”
“Yeah. Home.”
“I’m coming, okay? Just wait for me.”
Eris mumbled something unintelligible and hung up, leaving Azriel in even greater panic and even more frustrated that Eris was making him worry.
Grabbing his keys and unable to find his jacket, Azriel rushed out into the cold night in just a T-shirt. He quickly drove off, using all his knowledge of the back roads to get to Eris's place as fast as possible. Something was unsettling in Eris’s voice that made him rush.
Despite the distance, Azriel made it to Eris’s place in a record fifteen minutes, probably breaking more than a few traffic laws. The security guard at the entrance gave him a long look, but Azriel flashed him a smile and a look that said if he wasn’t let through, he’d either punch the guard or drive straight through the barrier.
Luckily, neither option was necessary. He was allowed through. Azriel quickly parked his car next to the familiar red Ferrari, briefly noting a strange red stain on the asphalt.
He was lucky that some man was also entering the elevator, using his keys, and Azriel shamelessly followed him, ignoring the skeptical glance. Fuck it, right now his thoughts were occupied with only one person.
As soon as the elevator doors opened on the right floor, Azriel shot out and immediately headed for the door, tensing up at the fact that it was not just unlocked but slightly ajar.
“Your door’s practically wide open,” Azriel grumbled, closing it behind him.
Entering, he immediately spotted Eris. And holy shit, he looked awful.
“Hey,” Eris said, still not opening his eyes when Azriel crouched down in front of him.
“What happened?” Azriel didn’t hold back, gently touching Eris’s jaw and lifting his head to get a better look at the bruises and split lip. “Who did this?”
“I’m afraid life did,” Eris chuckled hoarsely, but Azriel didn’t find anything funny about it.
“Who did this, Eris?” he repeated, even more seriously.
“Powerful people,” Eris smiled bitterly. “The kind who always get away with it.”
“Point them out to me, and they won’t get away with anything ever again,” Azriel growled.
Eris was silent, opening his eyes and looking at him as if he couldn’t believe Azriel was really there.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Because you called?” Azriel replied, not understanding the question. “If you say right now that I didn’t have to come, I’m going to kill you.”
Eris huffed quietly, leaning more into his touch, reaching out for the contact. Azriel noticed his trembling hands and grabbed them with his free hand, squeezing lightly.
"Experience shows that I can't be killed," Eris snorted. "So, I'll still say, you didn't have to come."
Azriel squeezed his hands tighter as if grounding him. "I doubt you could kick me out right now."
"I can't do much of anything right now, Azriel."
Azriel’s heart clenched at Eris’s words. There was something deeply unsettling about seeing someone so strong and self-assured looking so broken. He’d seen Eris being an arrogant prick or indifferent bastard — but this was something else entirely. This was raw, unfiltered vulnerability, and it terrified him more than he wanted to admit.
"You are so dramatic, and I'm the one who should be dramatic right now," Azriel grumbled, trying to sound casual as he helped Eris to his feet. "Let's go wash your wounds."
Eris silently followed him to the bathroom, obediently sitting on the edge of the tub. Azriel grabbed a clean towel, wetting it with warm water before carefully dabbing at the dried blood on Eris's face. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension of everything that had led to this moment.
Eris flinched slightly as the towel brushed against a particularly tender spot, and Azriel paused. "Sorry," he murmured.
Eris shook his head. "It's fine."
Azriel's jaw tightened, but he nodded, focusing on his task. As he cleaned the wounds, he couldn't help but notice the bruises on Eris's arms, the marks of a struggle. Whoever had done this hadn't held back. And damn it, this brought a huge wave of anger.
"I am sorry," Eris said quietly while Azriel rummaged through his first aid kit. "For... well, everything."
"For now, shut the fuck up. We'll talk about it later," Azriel snapped, realizing that right now, talking about Mor, marriage, divorce, all of that was the last thing he wanted to do. His thoughts were more occupied with where the hell the hydrogen peroxide was. "First, I'll wash and treat your wounds, make you some tea, you'll tell me what the hell happened to you, and then I'll give you a good yelling for everything you've done wrong. And after that, maybe, just maybe, I'll let you apologize and admit what an idiot you are."
"Good plan," Eris smirked, leaning against the tile. He hissed softly when Azriel began treating his wounds with antiseptic.
"You need ice," Azriel said grimly, examining the bruises. "And let me examine you completely."
"It's not that bad. Just admit you missed me and want to see me shirtless," Eris laughed weakly while Azriel rolled his eyes. He would have slapped him, but Eris's beaten appearance was enough to dismiss the idea.
"You were jumped and beaten, and judging by your untouched knuckles, the fight wasn't damn fair, and you didn't exactly fight back, and you're telling me it's not that bad?" Azriel looked at him in disbelief, getting riled up by those words.
"Family quarrels happen to everyone," Eris said, shrugging. His hands were no longer trembling, which was possibly a good sign.
"I'm going to kill you one day. But for now, I'm adding this to the mental list of things I'll yell at you about later."
Azriel helped him up and led him to the living room. Eris collapsed onto the couch, grimacing in pain. After going to the kitchen for some ice and wrapping it in a towel, Azriel applied it to Eris's cheek.
"Idiot," Azriel grumbled, not even knowing why he grabbed his hand again and didn't loosen his grip. Eris didn't resist.
"Why did you come, then?" Eris asked.
Azriel's grip on Eris's hand tightened slightly, his eyes darting away as if avoiding the weight of the question. He didn't have a good answer, not one that made sense, at least. His chest felt tight, a mix of frustration, anger, and something else he didn't want to name.
"Because I'm an idiot too."
tag list: @sizzlingstarlightsky @isnotwhatyourethinking @molcat07 @chairofchaos @lilah-asteria
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My first therapy appointment in several months went really well! I’m returning to the councilor I’ve had for a couple years now. I updated her on my transition journey because the last time I saw her was a couple weeks before I started on T; I told her about coming out to my dad last night, and how disappointing it was.
The ensuing conversation was both productive, and so fucking validating.
My recent depressive episode? Complicated by an event with a former friend, but set into motion, and dragged out for so long, because of the stress of what was to come. My voice has gotten too low to even PRETEND it’s just a holdover from being sick or part of allergies or what have you. I’ve known for the past month that the time to tell my dad was coming. The fear of his reaction and the consequences it could bring since I’m currently in a financially vulnerable place was killing me.
And as we talked, I figured out that the unpredictability is still my only real, big fear: my dad promised me he wouldn’t kick me out, but there’s that lingering fear that he could change his mind, and even if he doesn’t, he could start draining my paychecks — I told him my GAC, insurance copays and all, has been coming exclusively out of my pocket, so I get the sneaking suspicion he’s gonna take advantage of us sharing a bank account and deepen that financial dependency. And above all, I’m afraid of losing our relationship. I’m okay with him not accepting my identity so long as he doesn’t treat me any differently in spite of it. But if he starts pulling away or pushing me away or withholding love as punishment for following down a path he disapproves of, what then?
My counselor told me that, sad as it is, I can’t control how he chooses to react. But I have my mom and brother’s support, my girlfriend’s support, and an online community of friends; if I lose my relationship with him, that’s ultimately his decision and his loss, and no matter what he does, I won’t face it alone.
I had hoped that assuring him I felt God’s peace in my choices and that I’d spent years praying over the situation would at least sorta put him at ease, but all he did was infantilize and illegitimize my entire experience as guided by evil and selfishness. I can’t reason with him or come to a happy medium with him like I did with my mom. The faith he’s praised me for sticking close to he’s now decided is all lies and self-delusion simply because he doesn’t like the conclusions I’ve come to. Nothing I do will satisfy or convince him… so why waste energy trying?
I just have to live with his disappointment, and as much as it hurts, it’s also freeing. I’ve done all I can do. I don’t have to hide anymore. I don’t have to live with the stress of what will happen once he knows, because for better or worse, he knows now. If he doesn’t like it, so be it. I’ve laid my cards down, and how things progress between us is entirely up to him. When I put aside my stress over our relationship, I feel nothing but confidence and happiness and certainty. If he thinks this is a mistake… well, he’s gotta let me make my mistakes. I spent 20+ years not doing anything for fear of what bad might happen, and that left me a suicidal wreck by age 18. I won’t sit by and let ominous warnings and premonitions hold me back any longer. It COULD be a mistake, or it COULD be the best decision I’ve ever made. How will I know if I freeze up in fear?
My counselor noted several times that I look, sound, and act more confident than she’s ever seen from me. Without the pressure of keeping secrets, I’m able to more easily sort between what thoughts are mind and what thoughts my dad, my trauma, or both have planted in my head. I can say with my whole chest that I feel I’m going in the right direction. I can even say “Fuck it, my dad’s approval or disapproval is on him, not me” with greater conviction. I’m acting on things I’ve wanted from the moment we first spoke, and she says the positive change it’s made radiates off of me. She said she’s extremely proud of the progress I’ve made.
I’ll be seeing her again next week, then dropping down to seeing her every other week. In spite of how relatively poorly last night went, I feel empowered. God I’m so glad to be back.
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