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prettygirl-gabi · 2 months ago

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Title: Happy Tears in Tampa

Pairing: mom!Paige Bueckers x mom!Azzi Fudd x gf!mom!Reader, oc!daughter (Isla)

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: their last 40 mins on that court in the huskies jerseys, but they’ll spend a lifetime in your heart

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @shikaizer

I don’t think I’ve ever cried as hard over a basketball game in my life. And I’ve cried over a lot of basketball games.

But tonight… tonight was different.

“Let’s go, Paige! Come on, Azzi!” I yell, my voice cracking from the sheer force of emotion. My hands are trembling around Isla’s tiny ones, and my heart’s pounding like I’m the one who just played forty minutes.

Except I didn’t play. I stayed back in Storrs during the Elite 8. I wasn’t in Spokane when Paige dropped 71 points- both games combined and Azzi having off game shooting wise, but on defense she was a monster. I wasn’t in the stands when they beat Oklahoma and then USC to get here. But I made it to Tampa.

And I wasn’t alone.

“Isla, do you want to sit with Nana Katie and Grandpa Tim again?” I asked her at the start of the fourth, her curly puffs bouncing as she shook her head.

“Nooo, stay with Mama,” she said, cuddling into my side.

We were sitting next to Aaliyah, who flew in just to support the girls. She held Isla during the second quarter, whispering jokes that had our daughter giggling into her braids. But by the time the final few minutes rolled around, Isla wanted to stay close.

Aaliyah leaned toward me now, grinning as she nudged my elbow. “You good?”

I sniffled, nodding. “I’m so proud of them. Like, so proud.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, too,” she teased, brushing under her eyes. “This is crazy.”

And it was.

1:32 left on the clock. We were up 82 to 53.

That’s when it happened. The moment I think I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

“Foul on Azzi Fudd,” the announcer said.

I leaned forward, my hands tight around Isla’s waist. “Alright, baby, Mommy Azzi got a little handsy.”

Azzi raised a hand, shaking her head with a soft smirk as she turned to the bench.

And then, almost in perfect sequence…

“Subbing in for UConn: Qadence Samuels, Allie Ziebell, Caroline Ducharme, Aubrey Griffin…”

The crowd roared.

The tears hit.

I watched Paige, grab the towel from Allie also giving the ones who subbed in high-fives before walking over to Geno, who stood on the sidelines already tears building in his eyes.

She wrapped her arms around him so tight, and he hugged her right back.

That’s when I felt it. The heat behind my eyes, the burn in my throat. My chest caved in.

I was crying.

Not because they were losing. Not even because they were winning.

But because they did it. She did it. They did it.

Paige Bueckers. Azzi Fudd. UConn women’s basketball team. National Champions.

“Mama?” Isla asked, frowning up at me as she wiped at my cheek with her tiny fingers. “Why are you crying?”

I grabbed her little hand and kissed it. “Because I’m happy, baby. Mommy Paigey and Mommy Azzi worked really hard for this. These are happy tears.”

She looked over to the bench where Paige was wiping her own face, then at me, then at Azzi—who was grinning so hard her cheeks looked like they might burst. Azzi had her arm around Aubrey, motioning toward the stands, probably at Katie and Tim.

Then Isla smiled. “Oh… okay.”

The buzzer sounded and the arena exploded.

Final score: 82-59.

Confetti launched. The band played. The girls jumped and screamed and fell into each other’s arms.

I made my way toward the family section as the trophy ceremony started. It was chaos, but the good kind.

I spotted Amy and Bob—Paige’s parents—and their partners, along with Lauren, Ryan, and Drew, cheering their hearts out. Tim was lifting Isla’s arms, making her cheer. Katie had her hand over her mouth, completely stunned.

“MOST OUTSTANDING PLAYER OF THE TOURNAMENT… AZZI FUDD!”

I saw Azzi freeze a bit, her eyes wide before she was pulled forward. Paige clapped the loudest out of everyone, grinning from ear to ear. Sarah throwing confetti in her face as she walks to the middle of the stage they were on.

“She’s gonna sob later,” I muttered.

“Gonna?” Aaliyah teased. “Sis is already started from when she hugged Paige.”

Net-cutting time was next. Azzi before paige, next Paige climbed the ladder second to last, CD cutting her pieces, and with Geno going up last.

She looped the net around her neck, turned to the crowd with the biggest, brightest smile I’d ever seen—and scanned until she found us.

“ISLA!” she screamed, laughing.

I hoisted Isla up and waved.

When she and Azzi finally made their way to the tunnel, they paused right at the barricade. I squeezed forward as bob and everyone around us let me get to the front, holding Isla tight.

“Hi, my loves,” I breathed, voice thick with emotion.

Paige’s hair was slick with sweat under her championship hat, the net still around her neck. She was practically glowing. Azzi wasn’t much better, her eyes slightly red, but had biggest smile on the face of a winner.

Paige had reached her siblings first. Ryan got to hug her over the barricade first. Then Lauren and finally, after pulling drew into a really tight hug arms wrapped around his head, Drew reached for his handshake with Paige—an elaborate, goofy routine they’d perfected since he was little. She nailed it with the biggest grin ever.

After tapping his head back. She looked at us. Isla and I like we were her true prize. Before I could make my move fully.

Isla squirmed. “I want Mommy Paigey!”

Paige’s face lit up.

She reached over the barricade, grabbing Isla from me and hugging her to her chest. “Oh, I missed you so much, baby girl!”

Azzi leaned in, kissing my cheek, then my lips softly. “Thank you for being here,” she whispered. “She’s gonna remember this forever.”

I kissed her back. “So will I.”

“Mommy ZeeZee,” Isla said, reaching for her with one arm while clinging to Paige with the other. “I wanna go with you and Mommy Paigey!”

“Then let’s go,” Azzi said with a wink.

“Can she come too?” Paige asked, nodding toward me.

A staff member overheard and nodded. “We’ll come back for her once the press clears.”

I squeezed Paige’s hand and mouthed, I love you.

Fifteen minutes later, one of the assistants waved me down from the floor.

I was ushered through a side tunnel, weaving through wires and empty Gatorade cups. The door to the locker room opened, and I stepped in just in time to hear a chorus of singing.

“We are the champions, my frieeeends!”

Azzi was standing on the benches, Isla in her arms, Paige beside her with her arms wrapped around both of them. Sarah and Ashlynn were dancing like idiots with their hats backward, and Kk had her phone up recording the whole thing.

Geno was nowhere in sight—thank God.

“Hey! Mama’s here!” Paige called out.

“MAAAMAAA!” Isla yelled, reaching for me.

I ran to them, hugging Azzi and Paige both as they leaned down to squeeze me between them.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered.

Paige buried her face in my neck. “This means everything with you here.”

“Don’t start crying again,” Azzi joked, nudging me.

“No promises,” I said, sniffling.

“Hey, team pic with Isla!” Aubrey shouted.

Everyone gathered in. Paige held Isla. Azzi hugged me from behind. Sarah threw up a peace sign. Caroline was crying for the third time.

The flash went off. The room buzzed with love.

Isla yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Can we sleep now?”

Everyone laughed.

“Yeah, baby,” I said, kissing her head. “You earned it.”

Paige and Azzi looked at each other, then at me.

“I think we all did.”

And for the first time all week, I believed it too.

National Champions.

A family.

Happy tears. Always.

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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pucksandpower · 2 years ago

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Fairytale

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend

Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.

“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.

“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.

“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you’re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”

“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”

The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.

“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”

“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.

Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.

“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”

“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.

“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.

Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.

You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”

Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”

Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.

“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”

The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.

Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

***

Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.

“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”

Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.

Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”

“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”

Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”

Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”

Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”

“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”

Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?

“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.

“No.”

Silvia blinks. “No?”

“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”

“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.

Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”

“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.

His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.

Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋

Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.

He quickly types back.

I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️

He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.

Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.

***

Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.

Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.

“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”

Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”

“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”

Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.

“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”

Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”

“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”

Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.

“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”

Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?

“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.

“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.

Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.

“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. “It hurts.”

“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.

“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”

“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”

Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.

Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.

“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.

“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”

Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.

***

Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.

“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.

“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”

Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”

Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.

After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.

“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.

“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”

Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.

“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.

Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”

Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.

“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”

Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”

“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”

Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.

Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.

As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.

He feels his heart sink as he reads.

Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.

Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.

Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.

***

Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”

Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”

Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.

Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.

“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.

“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.

Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”

Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.

“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”

Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.

Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.

“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”

She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”

Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”

You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”

As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.

Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!

As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.

The podium ceremony.

And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.

He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.

But not anymore.

At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.

Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.

At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.

In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.

“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.

“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”

Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.

Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.

But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.

Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.

“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.

Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”

You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”

Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.

When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”

“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.

***

“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.

“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.

“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.

“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.

“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.

An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.

“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.

The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”

You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”

But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”

The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”

“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.

You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”

Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”

“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”

Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”

You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”

“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.

“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.

More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.

“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”

He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.

“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.

“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”

The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.

After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.

“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”

Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”

“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.

“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.

“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.

Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.

And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.

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izzih22 · 1 month ago

Note

Write one where Paige is wrapped as a gift to azzi

The Bueckers Bundle

Note: I finally did it… hope you like it

Azzi should’ve known something was up the moment she walked into the locker room and everyone went quiet.

Not like… normal quiet. This was the kind of silence that screamed “we did something,” followed immediately by the kind of suspicious grinning that made her pause mid-step.

Caroline was sitting on the bench looking way too proud of herself. Aubrey was recording something on her phone. KK and Ice were doubled over in the corner, trying (and failing) to keep it together.

Azzi blinked. “What’s going on?”

Caroline grinned. “We have… a delivery for you.”

“A delivery?”

“Yup. Straight from the UConn elves. Very exclusive. Limited edition.”

KK practically wheezed, “One-of-one.”

Aubrey turned her phone toward the hallway. “Bring her in!”

There was shuffling. Then squeaking. Then—rolling?

Azzi turned toward the door, and her jaw dropped.

Because coming around the corner—being pushed on a rolling chair by Jana—is Paige.

Except Paige isn’t just sitting on a chair.

She is completely wrapped in shiny red-and-white snowflake wrapping paper. Chin down. Arms crossed under the paper like she’d been mummified by festive chaos. There’s even a giant gold bow stuck dead center on her chest. And a gift tag on her forehead that says:

“To: Azzi

From: The Girls

DO NOT SHAKE”

Paige’s expression is pure deadpan. “I lost a bet.”

Azzi blinks. “You… you let them gift-wrap you?”

“She didn’t ‘let’ us,” Caroline pipes up. “She said, and I quote: ‘If I lose, you can wrap me like a Christmas present, but I draw the line at glitter.’ So. No glitter.”

Azzi walks over, covering her mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh. Paige is stuck like a giant, miserable burrito of holiday cheer.

“Oh my God, babe.”

“Just take the damn bow off so I can breathe again.”

“No,” Azzi says, giggling. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

“You’re not supposed to keep your presents hostage,” Paige groans.

“But you’re so cute like this.”

“I swear to God if you say ‘unwrapping you later’ in front of everyone—”

Azzi leans in close, eyes dancing. “I was gonna say ‘unwrap you with care.’”

“Same thing.”

Caroline fans herself with her hand. “I’m physically sweating.”

KK laughs. “This is why we don’t let them sit together on bus rides.”

Jana pulls out her phone too. “Can we take a picture before we set her free?”

“No,” Paige growls.

“Yes,” Azzi says at the exact same time.

The team bursts into laughter as Paige sits there helplessly, the wrapping paper slightly crinkling when she shifts.

Azzi kneels beside her, adjusting the bow slightly. “You really went through with this for a bet?”

Paige shrugs under the paper. “I said I would. Plus, I figured you could use a win after this week.”

Azzi looks at her, something softer moving beneath her amusement. “You are the win.”

“Oh my God,” Paige mutters. “Free me before I cry and the paper rips.”

Azzi carefully peels the tape from the front, undoing the paper just enough to reach her hands. She unwraps her slowly, like she’s handling something delicate, even though everyone around them is still giggling and snapping photos.

When Paige’s arms are free, Azzi gently pulls her into a hug. “Thanks for letting yourself be the joke.”

“Anything for you,” Paige mumbles, half-grinning against her shoulder. “But next time? I’m wrapping you.”

Azzi grins, pulling back just enough to kiss her cheek. “Looking forward to it, babe. But for the record? No one else is allowed to unwrap you but me.”

The team loses it.

And Paige just sighs, leans into her girl, and mutters, “I love you.”

#pazzi fics #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige and azzi

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especially-obsessed · 2 months ago

Text

Sundress

Summary: Jeremy sees you in a whole new way <3

Pairing: Jeremy Gilbert x reader

Warnings: fluff! fluff! fluff!

Word count: 2.5k

Masterlist | Jeremy Playlist

The heat of the summer day was suffocating as Jeremy wiped down tables outside the Mystic Grille. Sweat clung to his skin, and the air felt thick, like he was walking through a sauna. It’s just another afternoon shift, busy as usual with people coming in and out, laughing, chatting, and making a mess he’ll have to clean up. Nothing new, nothing special.

He’s focused on the task at hand, scrubbing a table near the curb, when he notices Elena and Caroline walking down the street, laughing, with Bonnie trailing behind them. At first, he doesn’t think much of it, his mind too preoccupied with the work he’s trying to get done. But then, his eyes land on you.

You’re walking a little slower than the others, gaze not entirely on them, and for a moment, he can’t help but watch. Everything else falls away. He feels it; a shift in the air, in the way his heart starts to beat faster. You’re wearing a cute summer dress, and it hits him like a punch to the gut.

It’s not tight, but it hugs your body in all the right places, showing off curves in a way that feels… different. He tries to look away, but he can’t help it. His eyes keep tracing your figure, the way the fabric swishes around your legs with every step. You’re not super skinny, but you don't need to be. Your curves are perfect; confident, full, the way they were meant to be.

Your hips sway with each step, and it’s almost like you’re moving in slow motion, with an effortless grace that makes Jeremy’s chest tighten. He follows the flow of your dress, the way it catches the light, and he realizes he’s standing there, frozen. He can’t seem to move, can’t seem to breathe.

What the hell is going on with him?

You’re just Elena’s friend. That’s it. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the way you walk, the way your hair falls in loose waves around your face, the way the sunlight makes you look like you’ve stepped out of some dream? It’s too much.

He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his rag tighter, as if it could steady him, as if it could make the racing thoughts stop. But it doesn’t work. Nothing works.

You keep walking, figure slowly disappearing down the street, and Jeremy’s left standing there, frozen in the middle of his afternoon shift. It’s like the world just shifted, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the image of you in that dress, but it lingers stubbornly, like an echo.

Matt comes around the corner, his voice snapping him out of the daze. “Jeremy, get back to work, man,” he says, looking at him like he’s completely spaced out.

He nods quickly, his heart still hammering in his chest as he tries to get back to his job. He focuses on the tables, on the customers, on anything that doesn’t involve you. But his thoughts? They’re all tangled up in that image. And no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to shake it.

After a fun girls' night out at the Mystic Falls fundraiser, you find yourself lounging on Elena’s couch, Caroline and Bonnie by your side. You’re still buzzing with excitement from the evening, laughing about the most ridiculous moments, and savoring the peaceful end to the busy night. The house is quiet except for your voices, and it’s a rare kind of calm that settles over you. You hadn’t planned to stay here tonight, but now that you’re here, it feels nice. Comfortable. Safe.

You’re in the middle of another one of those stories—Caroline gesturing wildly as she recounts something from the fundraiser—when the sound of the front door opening cuts through the air. All of you pause and turn your heads in unison.

Jeremy.

He’s just getting home from his shift at the Mystic Grille, and the second he walks in, you can’t help but stare at him. At first, it’s like he doesn’t even register that you’re all here. He’s got his head down, eyes focused on the ground, and his posture seems distant, like he’s lost in thought. His gaze doesn’t meet yours right away, and it’s almost like he’s in his own world.

But then, his eyes shift.

When he finally looks up, your eyes lock. For a split second, you wonder if he even recognizes you. But then something changes. His expression softens, and you swear you can see the moment when his attention zeroes in on you. The way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You’re not sure if he realizes how long he’s staring, but you can feel it. There’s this lingering weight in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not like anything you’ve ever felt before, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond to it. You suddenly become acutely aware of everything about yourself; how you’re sitting, how you’re dressed. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

You’re wearing a sundress tonight. Not your usual jeans or sweatshirt, but something simple and cute, something you felt confident in. It fits you perfectly. Nothing too fancy, but it’s flattering in all the right ways. And you can tell it’s not going unnoticed by Jeremy. His eyes sweep over you, slow and deliberate, and it makes your nerves spike. The way he looks at you is different, like you’re someone unfamiliar to him.

Someone new.

His mouth opens to say something, but it comes out all wrong. “Uh—hey,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s unsure of what to say.

You swallow hard, your own nerves making your voice a little shaky as you offer him a small smile. But it’s obvious something’s off. Jeremy’s acting… weird. Awkward. It’s not like him.

Caroline, ever the observant one, immediately picks up on it. “What’s up with you, Jeremy?” she teases, a grin pulling at her lips. It’s lighthearted, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her voice.

You glance at him again, trying to figure out what’s going on. His face is flushed, his movements stilted as he shifts on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s just tired from his shift or if something’s bothering him. All you know is that the tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife.

Elena, her gaze narrowing slightly, speaks up next. “Jeremy, are you on drugs again?” She questions, her tone sharp, a little too on edge.

Jeremy freezes, his expression hardening immediately. His eyes flash, and you can see the defensiveness rise within him. “No!” he snaps, his voice a little too loud, too quick. And then, without another word, he turns and retreats, practically bolting up the stairs.

The suddenness of it all leaves a strange silence in the room. You blink, not quite sure what just happened, as you watch him disappear up the stairs. You know something’s off. He’s never acted like that before (except for when he really was smoking weed behind the school). He especially didn’t act that way when Elena or Jena had company. Usually, he’s quiet, reserved, but steady. But tonight? Tonight, he looks like he’s fighting something internally.

You glance at Caroline and Bonnie, who are both looking after him in equal confusion. Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Well, that was weird,” she mutters, but there’s something else there too. Maybe she’s wondering if she missed something, too.

The girls go back to their chatter, but you’re lost in your thoughts, trying to make sense of it. Why was he acting like that? Why did he look at you like you were something unfamiliar, and what does it mean that he’s been on your mind all night?

Later that night, after the others had fallen asleep, the house settled into a quiet, almost eerie calm. The sound of the occasional rustle of trees outside is the only thing that breaks the stillness. You slip out from the warm embrace of Elena’s couch, your bare feet making barely a sound on the wooden floors. The night is still fresh in your mind—the laughter, the joking, the lingering glances—but now, there’s a soft pull toward the kitchen. You’re thirsty. Parched. A glass of water is all you need.

The coolness of the air hits you immediately when you step into the kitchen. The silence here feels peaceful, welcoming. You fill a glass from the faucet, the water glistening in the dim light from the refrigerator. You’re about to take a sip when you hear the softest sound behind you, and freeze.

Your eyes meet across the kitchen, and for a second, time seems to slow. There’s a moment of stillness between you and Jeremy. His face is just as surprised as yours. His usually composed expression is replaced with something a little more disoriented, his chest rising and falling as he stands there in the wide entryway.

The awkwardness hangs thick in the air, and neither of you speaks for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence, your nerves barely contained.

Jeremy blinks, clearly startled. “Uh—uhm, hey,” he stammers, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he glances at the floor, clearly trying to avoid your gaze.

You step forward, closing the distance between you, your heart unexpectedly racing. “You were acting weird earlier,” you tease, a playful edge to your voice.

Jeremy looks at you, clearly flustered, his face going a little red. “What? I wasn’t—” His voice cracks, betraying his nerves.

“You totally were,” you confirm, stepping even closer to him, unable to stop the teasing smile spreading across your lips. Watching him squirm a little feels almost too good.

He tries to keep his composure, but you can tell he’s struggling to breathe normally. His body is taut, his hands fidgeting by his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. The tension between you both is so palpable, it makes your heart race even faster.

You take another step forward, now standing right in front of him. The closeness catches you both off guard, the space between you so thin you can feel the warmth of his body against yours.

You realize you're wearing one of his old t-shirts—Elena had let you borrow it because you didn’t bring any extra clothes. It’s slightly too big for you, hanging loosely off your shoulders, the hem grazing the tops of your thighs. You can feel it move with every breath you take, and with him so close, you can’t ignore the soft, comforting scent that lingers on the fabric, reminding you of him.

Before you can stop yourself, you stand on your tiptoes, closing the remaining distance between you both and brushing your lips against his. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, a fleeting moment that leaves both of you in a daze. But then, something shifts. The heat between you both flares, and you feel Jeremy's hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he’s finally giving in to the tension that’s been building between you.

His kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your pulse racing as his hand slides up to your neck, holding you just slightly in place. He takes control now, guiding you effortlessly until he lifts you onto the kitchen island counter.

The cool marble surface meets the backs of your legs, but it’s barely a distraction compared to the heat building between you both. His body presses into yours, so close you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest. His strong frame towers over you, his breath coming in short bursts as he leans in, his chest brushing against yours. You can feel the weight of his body, the firmness of his muscles, and the warmth radiating off him. Every inch of his body feels like it's pulling you deeper into the moment. The tension between you both is palpable, thickening the air with every movement.

His hands are strong on your waist, grounding you as his lips continue to move against yours, taking control of the kiss. You can feel his heartbeat speeding up, matching yours. His touch is sure and possessive, pulling you closer as if you belong there with him. Every shift, every subtle movement brings you both even closer together. The space between you vanishes, replaced with a simmering heat.

You respond to him instinctively, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. You let him guide you deeper into the kiss, his lips gentle but demanding, pulling more from you with each moment.

But just as his hand slides up your inner thigh, working your legs apart, a soft voice breaks through the intensity.

“y/n?”

The world comes crashing back. You pull away, eyes wide with shock, as you turn toward the entryway. Caroline stands there, her eyes wide in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.

You glance back at Jeremy, and he looks like a deer caught in headlights. He’s frozen, unable to form words, and the air between you is thick with embarrassment. His hand was still resting on your thigh.

You refused to look over at Caroline. You were flushed, the heat in your cheeks overwhelming. You shift your gaze down and rest your forehead on his shoulder, hands clutching at his biceps. But you couldn’t stop the soft smile that tugged at your lips. You were both in this awkward mess, and yet... there’s something thrilling about it.

Caroline, bewildered but clearly enjoying herself, raised an eyebrow. “Well, this is just...” She grins wide, savoring the scene before her, before giving a teasing wink and turning to leave.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered over her shoulder, her voice dropping in a playful tone. “I won’t tell anyone.”

You both listened to Caroline’s soft footsteps as she made her way back to the living room where Elena and Bonnie still slept soundly, leaving the two of you in the kitchen, the air still thick with the weight of the moment. Jeremy doesn’t move. Neither of you speaks for a long, drawn-out second.

You finally lifted you head from his shoulder and glance up at him, your heart still racing. He looked just as stunned as you felt. His face is still flushed, his chest rising and falling with the weight of the moment.

“Guess we’re not getting away with that one,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeremy gives you a soft smile, his eyes lingering on yours with a warmth that makes your breath catch. His hands slide to your hips, fingers curling gently around them as he gives you a slow, reassuring squeeze. Then he leans in, so close you can feel the heat of him, his breath brushing across your face. His lips press a tender kiss to your forehead, and you can feel the smile on his lips.

Masterlist | TVD Masterlist

a/n: scared to write smut so this is what keeps happening <3

Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:

Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3

#jeremy gilbert #jeremy gilbert x reader #Jeremy Gilbert fanfic #Jeremy Gilbert fluff #especially obsessed #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries x reader #tvd x reader #tvd fluff #tvd imagine #tvd #tvd universe #tvd fandom #tvd fic #damon salvatore

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phillietemple · 2 months ago

Text

analyzing the TIT preshow playlist

I don't remember when, but in a preshow dan said something about how he carefully curated the terrible influence playlist to reflect the exact themes of the show, and that like, you could listen to every song and analyze how it connects to the content of the tour. so I decided to do exactly that! yapping under the cut

also here's a link to the playlist if you haven't seen it!

now i'll be honest, at first i didn't entirely believe dan because he has a tendency to exaggerate things like that lmao. and i saw some of the selections on this playlist and was like "wdym that's about something completely different how is that connected to tit." but then i listened to it with phannie goggles on and like.. he was not kidding! a few of them are a stretch, but all of these songs could be read in a way that is thematically connected to the show.

we know that the tour's main theme is dan and phil healing their relationship with their audience. this is a parasocial relationship that has at times been incredibly toxic for both parties involved (that's what their own song was about). it got to be too much and they had to step away for a bit, but now they are SO BACK and better than ever in a new era where they're older and gayer and everyone's just having fun.

Idolize - Dorian Electra

parasocial moment! yeah this is 100% what’s going on. “i don’t play nice, I scratch, I bite / and I just might have to idolize your life” this is like, the whole problem, isn’t it? great choice for the first song

2. JOYRIDE - Kesha

this one’s so fun. as part of this playlist it’s kind of saying “get ready, this show is about to change your life.” there’s also the line “don’t even try to g-give me shit, i’ve earned the right to be-be like this” which kind of makes sense for this new era.

3. New Woman - LISA, ROSALÍA

i mean this song is about rebirth/ rediscovering yourself and gaining confidence so it definitely applies to this new era of dan and phil. i like the line “pain has come and gone again"

4. Otaku Hot Girl - Megan Thee Stallion

this is dnp recognizing the anime nerds in the audience lol. this song is funny, it’s also very confident which is becoming a theme

5. Drama - aespa

“i bring all the drama” i mean yeah that’s us. that’s this show

6. Talk To Me - Two Shell, FKA twigs

oooh this one’s good. “called you just to check you never wanna see me again / i fly high with the hope that you’ll look up / with one chance, i just wanna be the one that you love” this is like, during the hiatus. we just wanted to talk to them! and i think that goes for both sides!

7. Busy Girl - Tove Lo

another confidence song! this one specifically being more about hustling and being good at your job. dan and phil ARE busy girls. and they are the center of our world

8. Death and Romance - Magdalena Bay

i love this song! and it’s definitely about a toxic/ slightly codependent relationship. “my hands, your hands, I’ll hold forever / no way I’ll break hold, no, not ever / yeah i give and you give til it’s all that we have / you know nothing is fair in death and romance” and interestingly, at the end it changes to “you give and you give til it’s all that you have” which kind of signifies burnout on one side. dude!!

9. Starburned and Unkissed - Caroline Polachek

i had trouble with this one at first since the lyrics are so abstract, but the chorus starts with “come home,” and like. yeah. it’s about missing someone/ something. we’re literally coming home guys

10. So Long London - Taylor Swift

haha funny because they’re leaving london to go on tour. except wait a minute. “how much sad did you think I had / did you think I had in me? how much tragedy? just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode / before I’d have to go be free?” ughh it’s hiatus!! we got a happy reunion eventually but this is the sad “breakup” before that. oof

11. Please Please Please - Sabrina Carpenter

ok the phannie interpretation of this is really funny. the song is about being ashamed of a partner who may not be the best person and how it reflects back on you. “I beg you, don’t embarrass me motherfucker” could definitely apply to both sides here. they’re saying “you guys are crazy but we love you anyway”

12. Lithonia - Childish Gambino

they’re in their era of not giving a fuck! wait this is crazy. “Cody LaRae / he had a break / he’s finding out that nobody gives a fuck” dan and phil had a break and then came back and found out their fans are chill and awesome!!

13. Heartbreak Feels So Good - Fall Out Boy

i haven’t listened to FOB in a long time but this song is really good. it’s kind of about going through a lot but having fun and dancing anyway. like it’s a very emotional song and we don’t even know what those emotions are anymore it’s just A Lot. “we could dance our tears away, emancipate ourselves” yeah!!

14. DiE4u - Bring Me The Horizon

another toxic relationship song! i like the bridge. “this isn’t love, this is a car crash / this isn’t love, this is a bloodbath / this isn’t love, this is a sentence” guys we’re stuck with each other.

15. This Is Why - Paramore

“this is why I don’t leave the house” i mean….. yeah lmao

16. LUNCH - Billie Eilish

this is kind of just a song about being lesbian. i mean it’s queer joy! that’s relevant! i think it’s here for the girl kissers in the audience and also because this album was the best of the year argue with the wall

17. Rush - Troye Sivan

and this one’s for the gays! this is a really obvious choice i mean it’s troye sivan. dnp sing this all the time too

18. Von dutch - Charli xcx

this one is SO good. the confidence song to end them all. “cult classic but i still pop” they’re literally number one you bitches could NEVER. dnp don’t really have haters or people pretending not to like them the way charli is singing about, but the song still fits so well and is just such a banger. fantastic choice

19. HOT TO GO - Chappell Roan

this is also just queer joy! it’s on here so that everyone can sing along and do the dance in the audience which was a 10/10 experience let’s go lesbians

20. Toxic - Britney Spears

the perfect one to end it on. the adrenaline that came with hearing this song start right before the show was insane, and like, the whole time i’ve been saying this is the story of a toxic relationship! so what better song to illustrate that, not to mention dnp’s history with it like it’s just beautiful.

ok that's the end hope you enjoyed reading my barely coherent rambling! lmao i figured at least a few of you give a shit about stuff like this so there you go. have a lovely day

#i feel like dan wanted people to do this so i'm just doing my part lol #like yeah man your genius is unmatched and your music taste is fire. whatever #dan and phil #dnp #phan #daniel howell #phil lester #terrible influence tour

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lupinqs · 4 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TEN ━━ The Introduction

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.9K

❀ ━ warnings: allusions to sex, alcohol consumption

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: hehe

IT’S FRIDAY, December 2nd, and UConn just annihilated Providence. Jo played out of her mind, as she always does. Of course, Paige is proud. Of course she is. But both her performance and the team win can’t really make this might feel like a victory for Paige to bask in.

Currently, she’s standing in Nika’s kitchen, staring down at the cup full of Everclear in her hand. The liquid inside is dangerous, too strong for her, and yet she’s already downed three or four shots. She doesn’t even like it. In fact, she usually avoids this shit like the plague. But tonight, it’s the only thing she can think of to numb her, the only thing that might be able to quiet the anxious, suffocating storm inside her chest.

It’s almost laughable, really, how predictable she is. How every time Jo does something—breathes, laughs, smiles—Paige feels like she’s suffocating just a little more. It’s insane. They’re best friends. They’ve been living together since May. She’s seen every side of Jo—the silly, the serious, the completely ridiculous.

Well, every side except the one she shares with Asher.

Because Paige still hasn’t met him.

She’s seen all the pictures, of course—the one’s on Jo’s Instagram, the one that Jo has as her lock screen, the one framed in Jo’s family’s house back in Boston, the one perched on Jo’s desk in their apartment. She hears about him a God awful lot, too. She’s seen Jo text him, call him. She’s listened to Jo gush about him and their future while Paige is just… there. Watching Listening. Seeing Jo get lost in that perfect, fairytale love that Paige will never be a part of.

The rest of the team, on the other hand, have already met the damn boy. Back in October, while Paige was in LA rehabbing, he’d come up to visit Jo, and they’d met him. And, of course, they all informed Paige of how kind and charming and absolutely perfect for Jo he was.

And, tonight, it seems that Paige has finally met her dues. Because he’s coming to Ted’s with Jo, to hang out with the team.

Okay, it’s not that Paige wants to hate Asher. He hasn’t done anything to her, not really. She just doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to see the joy and adoration in Jo’s eyes when she’s with him. Doesn’t want to see her look at someone else the way she’ll never look at Paige.

That’s why she’s standing here in Nika’s kitchen, holding the cup of Everclear like it’s a lifeline. She’s downed drink after drink, trying to numb herself before the night really starts. She needs something to take the edge off. Anything to make the world feel a little less sharp, a little less raw.

So, Paige reaches for the bottle again, pouring herself another cup, her hand unsteady from the alcohol already coursing through her veins. She doesn’t even care that she’s probably about to get way too drunk to function. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not when she’s about to experience first-hand the perfect, romcom, movie-like romance of Jo and Asher.

As Paige pours the drink, she doesn’t even hear Caroline approach. It’s not until the sophomore’s hand wraps around her wrist that Paige jerks back, spilling some of the alcohol across the counter. “Bro!” she exclaims, frustration creeping into her voice as she whips her head to glare at Caroline. “What the hell?”

Caroline narrows her eyes, and the look she gives Paige is one of irritation, not amusement. “What are you doing?” she demands, voice tight. “You’re gonna be wasted before we even get to Ted’s. Besides, you don’t even like this shit!” She gestures to the bottle of Everclear in Paige’s hand, her gaze pointed.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Nah, don’t do that with me, Carol,” she says, her voice flat and cold, the words rolling off her tongue like venom. “I’m older than you. If you wanna mother someone, go find the freshmen.”

Caroline doesn’t flinch at Paige’s outburst. Instead, she just rolls her eyes back, her expression practically dripping with exasperation. Then, with one swift motion, she gives Paige a quick shove on the shoulder, a mockery of affection that’s meant to get her attention but only serves to make Paige more frustrated. “No,” Caroline says, her tone laced with that same tired edge. “I’m gonna mother because clearly you need it!”

The words land like a slap, stinging more than Paige expects. Yes, she knows she’s not being entirely responsible, but also—when has she been? It’s sort of in her nature to be irresponsible, so she’s not sure how this is any different. But is is. And she doesn’t even know why.

There’s a long pause. Too long. It stretches between them like a chasm, and Paige can feel the moment hanging in the air like it’s about to swallow her whole. She thinks Caroline might be done. She thinks the conversation might be over.

But it’s not. Caroline is not finished.

“Look,” the brunette says, her voice gentler now, but still firm. “I know you’re, like, totally in love with Jo and all, but please, Paige, get yourself together.”

Almost instantly, Paige stills. It’s as if the entire world falls silent in an instant. The sound of her pulse fills her ears, louder than anything else. Her mind goes blank for a moment, and then the words slowly filter through. Caroline knows. Paige has been so careful recently to pretend, pretend, pretend. But Caroline’s still seen through it.

Fuck.

“Wha—? How did you know that?” Paige’s voice comes out high-pitched, more frantic than she wants it to be. She feels like she’s suffocating, like she’s about to drown in the truth that’s just been laid bare. “Did Azzi tell you? Aubrey?” The thought of anyone else but the two of them knowing, of anyone else seeing what she’s been trying to hide, is bad. It’s what Paige imagines standing in front of a crowded room, naked, while everyone stares at her would feel like.

Caroline gives her a look. “No, dumbass,” she deadpans. “I figured it out myself. You’re not very subtle.”

As if it were possible, Paige’s stomach seems to drop even more at the simplicity of it all. Because Caroline’s right, just as Aubrey and Azzi both had been. Paige isn’t subtle. She never has been. The way she looks at Jo, the way her face burns every time Jo smiles at her, the way she seems to track everything Jo doesn’t without even meaning to—none of it is subtle.

She groans, a frustrated sound that escapes her before she can stop it. She leans forward, her palms flat against the counter as she rests her forehead against the cool surface. She’s so tired. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting the feeling that never goes away. And now, with Caroline’s words hanging before her, she knows it’s probably only a matter of time before Jo figured it out, too. Before Jo realizes what Paige has been hiding, and everything goes to shit. Jesus Christ, she’s gonna have to transfer.

Caroline doesn’t let the silence linger for too long, though. “Okay, yeah,” she says, her voice softening a little. “I know it sucks. I get it.” She takes a deep breath, and Paige can hear the sympathy in her voice, the understanding. “And I’m sorry you have to see Jo with Asher while you like her. But, please, get yourself together. Because she’s so excited for you to meet him, and if you’re drunk off your mind when you do, you’re probably just gonna embarrass yourself and her. Do you wanna do that?”

Caroline’s right. Of course she is. Paige can imagine herself meeting Asher, entirely wasted, and saying some stupid shit that would have him grimacing at her and Jo flushing with embarrassment over the fact that this drunk girl before them is supposed to be her best friend. It would be wrong and selfish to do that. But it’s gonna be so hard to do it and act normal. She knows she swore she would take Jo in whatever way she’ll give her—and she still stands by that—but that doesn’t mean she has any desire to meet her boyfriend. Because she just doesn’t. She’s truly not sure she can.

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she just stays there, head pressed against the counter, trying to will sway the stupid, hot tears that begin to form in her eyes. She can’t cry here. It’s fucking stupid.

Eventually, after blinking the tears away, Paige begrudgingly shakes her head. “No,” she mutters under her breath, the words barely audible. “I don’t wanna do that.”

Caroline pats her on the back. “That’s what I thought.”

PAIGE LISTENS. She’s being good. She’s only slightly tipsy, every so often taking sips of her Dirty Shirley. She’s doing her best to integrate herself into the team’s conversation around her, despite her uncharacteristic anxiousness. She tries to will her gaze to stop flicking toward the door. It doesn’t work; her mind is already rehearsing every possible scenario when Jo and Asher walk in.

“Aye, JoJo just said they should be here any minute!” Ice says loudly, reading a text off her phone. The rest of the team, half-fueled by the alcohol running through their bloodstream, lets out a few cheers.

Azzi, who’s across from Paige and who Paige can tell is almost entirely sober, meets her eyes. She title her head, giving her a look as if to say you good? The blonde gives her a tight nod. She will be good. She’s gonna keep it together, it’ll be fine. It’s just one night, one introduction. After that, she can pretend none of it matters. She doesn’t need to be anywhere near Asher.

But even as she tells herself that, her pulse begins to quicken, the seconds ticking by too slowly as she waits for the pair to walk through that door. And, when they finally do, it’s not the way she thought it would be. She expected her heart to sink, her breath to catch, but what happens instead is worse. Her skin tingles, and her chest feels too tight, like her ribs are being squeezed, her lungs struggling for air. Jo walks in first, her laugh ringing out across the bar like it’s some beautiful melody that Paige can’t stop hearing. And then there’s Asher, in the flesh, right behind her. His arm is casually draped over Jo’s shoulder, and the two of them look so natural, so right together that it makes Paige feel like she’s been hit with a sucker punch to the gut.

They’re happy. It’s blatantly obvious in the way they move together, the way Asher’s hand rests lightly on Jo’s shoulder, the way they share that easy, carefree smile, as if nothing in the world could ruin this moment for them. Paige’s vision sharpens, the edge of the bar blurring as the urge to shrink away into herself rises up like an overwhelming tide. She wants to leave, to disappear, to drink so much she blacks out and dies.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Jo and Asher head straight toward the team, where they stand in the back corner. Paige forces herself to appear nonchalant like always, her back pressed against the bar wall, her fingers gripping the edge of her drink. The others begin to greet the pair quickly, all laughing and chatting with him so easily and fast it almost gives Paige whiplash. Within a minute, he already fits in so seamlessly—and Paige hates if. She hates the way he’s making them all laugh, the way he’s charming without even trying, the way everyone seems to like him so easily. Things would be so much easier for Paige if he was just some shitty douchebag boy.

But then Jo’s eyes find hers, that smile spreading across her face, and all thoughts of the boy flee for a short moment. It’s that smile only for her, only for Paige. She’s reserved it.

Paige feels her heart leap, an automatic reaction that she can’t stop, especially with alcohol in her system. She doesn’t know if Jo can see it, the way her face softens at the sight of her, but Paige knows her smile is already in place, even if it feels a little strained, like her cheeks might crack under the pressure.

Paige watches as Jo grabs onto Asher’s wrist, pulling him so they’re both face to face with Paige. “Paige! This is Asher!” she exclaims excitedly, and it’s adorable, it really is, the way her doe eyes shine at Paige, twinkling.

With some effort, the blonde forces her gaze from Jo to the boy beside her. “Hey, bro,” Paige says, her voice coming out a little higher than she intended, but she doesn’t let it show. She forces the words out, the greeting she’s practiced a thousand times too many.

“Nice to meet you,” she adds. It’s a lie. Of course.

Asher nods, his hand extending to shake hers. It makes everything inside Paige write. He’s not just some asshole she can dismiss; he’s the guy who makes Jo happy. And in the face of that, what does Paige have to offer? Absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, you too,” Asher replies, his smile wide, genuine. Fuck, he really is likable. It makes everything worse. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Stupidly, Paige can feel her heart skip a beat. He’s heard about her. Jo’s talked about her. The thought of it makes her skin flush, and she glances at Jo, who’s standing just a little too close to Asher, her eyes sparkling. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, just enough for Paige to notice.

Hm.

Jo’s talked about her. Jo’s talked about her. It’s an absurdly stupid thing to obsess over, because, yes, it would only make sense that Jo has talked about her. They’re roommates, for God’s sakes.

But then, just as quickly, it all comes rushing back—the overwhelming knowledge that it just doesn’t matter. Because Jo has Asher.

Paige’s hand in tightens slightly around her drink, and she forces her smile to stay in place. “I bet,” she says, before gesturing to Jo. “She’s a yapper.”

Asher’s grin widens, and he nods in agreement. He glances down at Jo for a moment, and Paige can see the faint sparkle in his own eyes. It makes her sick. “Yeah, she is,” he chuckles. Of course he would know that. He knows everything. Certainly more than Paige (except how to make a girl cum—though, at this point, she supposes it can’t even apply to the situation). But he’s been there. For everything. Since the fucking sandbox days. It’s not something Paige can even remotely compete with.

She needs another drink.

JO SITS awkwardly in the booth at Ted’s, wedged between Asher and Paige. It’s not even that the space is tight—there’s room enough for the three of them, probably room for one more—but the proximity feels off, almost claustrophobic. She shifts in her seat, feeling the edge of Asher’s knee against hers, and Paige’s shoulder brushing lightly against her own. All of it—the heat from their bodies, the weight of their presence—is somehow making her feel small, like there’s no space for her in this conversation.

Asher, ever the extrovert, is holding court with Paige, talking on and on about college football rankings and how Penn State (where he goes to school) is sure to win their bowl game. Jo tries to listen and engage, but the topic doesn’t interest her. Basketball is far superior to football. But she still follows along, because Asher’s so into it, so excited to share his thoughts, and Paige—who, as usual, is completely unfazed by the world around her—responds with that ease that always leaves Jo wanting more.

Jo feels herself sinking lower in the booth, staring at her drink. It’s a cranberry vodka, something that feels sweet on her tongue. She takes another sip—maybe too quickly—and feels the alcohol warm her from the inside out. It helps dull the growing discomfort, but it doesn’t erase it. The tightness in her chest persists, a strange, insistent thing that makes her shift again, trying to find a way to make herself comfortable.

She doesn’t know why she feels this way. She should be happy. She should be enjoying this. After all, she’s the one who was so eager to introduce Asher and Paige, so excited to see her favorite people meet and get along. So why does it feel… wrong now? Why does it feel like she doesn’t belong?

It’s not jealousy. No, not even close. She’s fine with Asher and Paige talking. She’s good with it. She wants them to like each other. She’s been waiting for this, hoping for it. But still… the weight of their conversation feels like it’s too much for her to hear, even if she can’t articulate why. It’s the way they’re so at ease with each other, like they’ve known each other for years, and Jo feels like she’s just a spectator, stuck in the middle. Paige is talking about football like she’s always been passionate about it, and Jo wonders if she even really cares or if she’s just being her usual, charismatic self, making everyone around her feel like they’re the most important person in the room.

She doesn’t know why this feels so weird, so odd. It’s almost as if the booth is too small for the three of them, like either Asher of Paige needs to move out of it so Jo can finally breathe again. She just doesn’t get it.

Asher keeps talking, oblivious to the tension knotting in Jo’s stomach. She can tell he’s enjoying himself, that he’s happy to be here, happy to be connecting with Paige. He’s wanted to ever since he’s realized how close she and Jo are, not to mention the fact that he’s a big fan of Paige’s game—which, valid. And Paige, of course, is just as nonchalant as always. She’s good at this—at making people feel seen and heard, like she’s the only person in the room that matters.

Jo tries to keep her smile in place, but she knows it’s not quite reaching her eyes. Every time Paige laughs, it hits something inside her she can’t explain, some quiet ache. Every time Asher leans in closer to Paige, every time they lock eyes, Jo feels a small, gnawing discomfort in the pit of her stomach. Not jealousy, just… something else. Something she doesn’t want to name.

Paige’s voice cuts through her thoughts, and Jo snaps back to the moment. “I’mma go get another Shirley,” the blonde says easily, pushing herself up from the booth. Jo watches her walk away, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with the sudden urge to grab Paige’s hand and pull her right back. So weird.

Asher’s voice suddenly cuts through the murmur of chatter, causing Jo’s head to snap toward him. He’s looking at her now, his brow furrowed in that way he gets when he’s concerned. “Babe, you good? You been kinda, like… quiet?”

Jo forces a smile, the expression coming easy enough but feeling unnatural on her lips. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she can feel it, can feel the way he’s watching her, sensing something is off. Why am I being like this? She doesn’t know.

“Yeah, let’s go dance,” she says, the words sounding too breezy. Asher doesn’t seem to notice, though, his smile brightening. He takes her hand in his, tugging her up from the booth.

They make their way to the dance floor, and Jo feels the heat of the crowd, the heavy bass that vibrates in her chest. She tries to lose herself in it, tries to let the rhythm take over. Asher’s hands find her waist, guiding her gently, pulling her closer as they fall into the music. She moves with him, tries to feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of being with him. It’s weird, though, because the steps feel a little too quick, like she’s trying to make her body fit the rhythm of something that feels off.

Her gaze drifts without meaning to. It’s not even something she consciously does, it just happens, as her eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of people. And then, they land at the bar.

Paige is there, talking with someone Jo doesn’t recognize at first. But when she squints her eyes, trying to make sense of the redhead leaning over the counter, she realizes it’s Celeste. She watches, captivated for reasons she doesn’t understand, as Celeste leans in closer to Paige, her fingers brushing along Paige’s arm. Jo doesn’t really like that. She should stop watching.

But she doesn’t. And the longer she stares, the more that strange feelings gnaws at her. She can’t tear her gaze away, even though she tries. It’s weird and wrong, Jo knows, watching her best friend cook up her nightly fuck—because, surely, that’s what this is.

And then, just as if she’s been caught, Paige’s eyes meet here. Jo feels her heart skip a beat. Her cheeks instantly flush, her gaze jerking away from Paige’s with an awkwardness she doesn’t understand.

Bur when she dares to glance back, she finds Paige still looking at her, her gaze steady, unwavering. There’s something about the way Paige is staring, like she’s waiting for Jo to react, to do something, anything. Jo feels herself shift uneasily under that gaze, her skin heating as though she’s been caught in something she shouldn’t have been.

She looks away again, closing her eyes briefly as she tries to focus more intently on the movement of Asher’s hands on her hips, on the way he’s leading her in a slow circle. She tries to focus on the feel of his body close to hers, tries to drown out the memory of Paige’s eyes. But Jo’s thoughts are all scattered, her focus slipping like sand through her fingers.

The music changes, the beat shifting, becoming more sensual, slower. Asher leans in closer, his lips brushing against Jo’s ear, and he whispers in that low voice that always makes her shiver, “You wanna go back to yours?”

Jo nods automatically, because, yes, she really needs to leave this place.

As they move through the crowd, heading for the exit, Jo sneaks one last glance at the bar. She’s hoping for something—she doesn’t even know what—but Paige’s attention is elsewhere, focused on Celeste now. Jo feels a pang, but it’s fleeting, and she brushes it off with a shrug, tightening her grip on Asher’s hand.

“I’MMA GO get another Shirley,” Paige says, pushing herself out of the booth before either Jo or Asher can respond. She’s already halfway out by the time the words fully register with them, and she doesn’t wait to hear what they might say. For obvious reasons, talking to Asher has drained her. They’ve been going on and on about football, and it just got to a point. Not to mention the fact that Jo was between them, the whole right side of her body pressed against Asher, his arm casually slung over her shoulders.

Paige tries not to think too hard about it. She’s fine. She’s so fine, in fact, that she decides she needs another drink.

The bar is crowded, but Paige carves her way through the bodies easily. She leans against the counter, resting her forearms on the sticky surface as she flags down the bartender. She orders another Dirty Shirley, and then a shot of tequila because, well, it’s just one of those nights.

Paige exhales and lets herself sink into the moment—the crowd, the pounding bass of the music, the buzz of alcohol in her system. She tries to think about anything but the happy couple she’d been forced to hang out with for far longer than she’d planned.

Her drink arrives, the tequila shot placed next to it. She picks up the shot glass without hesitation, throwing it back quickly. The burn hits her immediately, sharp and biting, but she welcomes it. She needs it. The glass clinks against the bar as she sets it down, and she picks up her Shirley, sipping it to chase the tequila’s lingering heat.

“Hey, P,” a voice says from beside her, catching her off guard.

Paige turns, her brown furrowing for a split second before her expression smooths out. It’s Celeste. Of course.

“Hey,” Paige says casually, as if the sight of the redhead doesn’t throw her a little off balance for a moment. She’s not surprised Celeste is here—she’s always around. She’s also not surprised when Celeste slides closer, her lips curving into a smile that Paige knows all too well.

“You celebrating the win?” Celeste asks, her voice light, flirtatious. Paige has to give her credit, if she’s honest, because, really, this girl never gives up, no matter how hot and cold Paige is.

And, if Paige is even more honest, Celeste looks good. Better than good. She’s wearing some kind of black corset top that pushes her tits up in a way that’s impossible not to notice, her bright red hair perfectly blown out, and her makeup flawless even in the hazy lighting of Ted’s.

“Something like that,” Paige replies, her words accompanied by a small shrug. She takes another sip of her drink, letting the alcohol settle over her like a warm blanket.

Celeste doesn’t waste any time. She leans forward, her hand brushing against Paige’s arm in a way that’s calculated. “You looked good on the bench tonight. I posted a couple shots that the cameras got of you,” she says lowly.

Paige nearly snorts at the words—you looked good on the bench tonight. That’s what she’s been reduced to, a pretty bench-warmer, too injured and useless to be anywhere but on it. But she doesn’t laugh. Because she knows exactly what Celeste is doing. And under normal circumstances, she might be annoyed—Celeste has a habit of getting too attached, of acting like there’s more between them than there really is. But tonight, Paige is a little drunk, a little tired, and more than a little tempted to let herself fall into the distraction Celeste is offering. She was already planning on fucking someone tonight, and Celeste? Well, she’s right here, looking like that. Why not?

So, Paige smiles, tilting her head just slightly, enough to give the redhead the impression that she’s been hooked. “Yeah?” she says playfully, teasingly. “Didn’t know you were paying that much attention.”

Celeste laughs a little, leaning even closer, and Paige can feel the way her fingers linger on her arm. She plays along, letting herself fall into the conversation, the push and pull of flirtation. It’s easier to think about other things.

But, of course, somehow, her focus still seems to slip.

Over Celeste’s shoulder, Paige catches a glimpse of the dance floor. Her eyes find Jo and Asher almost instantly, like she was looking for them without even realizing it. They’re dancing, their bodies close, their smiles easy. They look happy. They look like they belong together. And it makes Paige want to puke.

She tries to look away, tries to focus on Celeste, on the warmth of her hand still on her arm, on the sharp curve of her smile. But she can’t. Her eyes keep drifting back to Jo, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

And then, suddenly, Jo looks over. Their eyes meet across the room, and Celeste blurs into the background beside Paige like she was never even there. Paige should look away, should stop staring. But she doesn’t. Her eyes stay locked on Jo’s, rooted there.

But then Jo breaks the connection, her gaze shifting away, and Paige is left staring at nothing. She feels an idiotic pang, and forced herself to take another sip of her drink.

Celeste seems to notice, her head turning to follow Paige’s line of sight. Her eyes land on Jo and Asher, and she tilts her head as she turns back to Paige. “Is that Jo’s boyfriend?” she asks.

Paige nods. “Yup. His name’s Asher.” She forces her voice to sound calm and unaffected, even though saying his name feels like she’s choking on something too sharp to swallow.

Celeste hums slowly in response. She pauses for a moment, and Paige can feel her gaze, sharp and curious, boring into her. “So… you and Jo are, like, best friends, right?” Her tone is casual, but there’s something suspicious laced beneath it, like she’s fishing for something Paige doesn’t want to give.

Paige nods again, slower this time, turning her head to glance at Celeste. “Yeah…” she says, the word dragging out of her like it takes effort to say. She wonders where this is going.

“Well,” Celeste begins, tipping her shot glass back and setting it down with a faint clink. “I ask her about you sometimes, and she never really gives me a clear answer. I can tell she tries to be nice to me, but it doesn’t really seem like she likes me much.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at that, her instinct to defend Jo kicking in automatically. “Nah, Jo likes everyone,” she says, waving Celeste off with a dismissive hand. And it’s true—Jo does like everyone.

But Celeste shakes her head, her red hair catching the light. “I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully. “For a while, I kinda thought you and her were a thing.”

The words hit Paige like a slap, and she chokes on the sip of her Shirley she just took, coughing as she sets her glass down hard on the bar. “What—?” she manages to get out, her voice rough and disbelieving. Her heart is pounding so loudly in her chest she’s sure Celeste can hear it.

Celeste shrugs, her expression almost too nonchalant, like she knows exactly what kind of chaos she’s causing. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I just kinda got that vibe. But if she’s got a boyfriend and we’ve fucked a couple times recently… I guess I was wrong.”

Paige blinks at her, wide-eyed. “You definitely were,” she says quickly, the words tumbling out too fast, too eager to set the record straight. Her face is flushed, and she can feel the heat crawling up her neck. “We’re just friends. Nothing more. At all.”

The words feel heavy in her mouth, bitter and thick. They’re not a lie, no matter how much Paige sometimes wishes it could be.

She doesn’t miss the way Celeste studies her, her green eyes narrowing slightly, like she’s trying to figure out if Paige is telling the truth. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like someone on the outside—someone as far removed as Celeste—can somehow sense the mess of feelings she’s been trying so hard to bury.

She forces herself to take a large gulp of her Shirley, the alcohol doing little to ease the tightness in her stomach. When she glanced back at the dance floor, her eyes automatically searched for Jo, she realizes that she’s—and Asher—are gone from their previous spot.

Her gaze flickers around the bar, scanning the corners, but they’re nowhere to be found. Probably went to go fuck, she thinks bitterly. Even though she has insight now that Asher is basically terrible at it, the idea still makes Paige want to die.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Instead, she finishes the last of her drink, turning her attention back to the girl next to her, forcing her signature smirk back onto her lips. Jo’s gone, busy with him, and Paige doesn’t owe anyone anything.

She leans into the conversation, matching Celeste’s flirtation with her own, their banter growing looser and bolder with each drink they down. The alcohol is certainly doing it’s job, blurring the edges of her thoughts, making everything feel distant and less painful.

Unexpectedly, Paige ends up in Celeste’s bed. And, also unexpectedly, she thinks about brown hair and doe eyes during the entirety of it.

JO LIES tangled in the sheets with Asher, her head resting on his bare chest, his arm wrapped around her back. It’s around four, she thinks, and the world outside feels impossibly quiet at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes only in the dead of night. Asher’s fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along her shoulder, his touch featherlight and soothing.

The haze of the night has mostly worn off now—the alcohol burned away by time, replaced by a comfortable clarity that feels almost foreign after hours of noise and chaos. It’s just the two of them now, alone in her room, their breaths in sync, the moment easy and weightless and familiar.

Jo closes her eyes, letting herself drift in the warmth of his presence, but her mind doesn’t quiet as easily as her body does. It’s almost like something beneath the surges won’t let her fully settle. It’s not unease, exactly. Not suspicion. Just… something. A restlessness she can’t name.

“Okay, I gotta piss,” Asher says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jo snorts, her eyes fluttering open as she turns her head to look up at him. “Way to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is laced with affection.

Asher grind down at her, unapologetic as he shifts, moving to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Nature calls,” he jokes. He starts to stand, but Jo catches his wrist, tugging him back down for just a second.

“Put some clothes on first,” she reminds him. “Paige got back a little bit ago.” She’d heard the door open, the quiet shuffle of footsteps as Paige made her way to her room. It was probably a half an hour ago, maybe less, and Jo had listened, wondering how Paige’s night had gone, whether she’d been alone or gone back with the team or left with Celeste.

Asher groans playfully, leaning down to peck Jo’s lips. “I will, I will,” he promises, his voice low and warm.

Jo rolls her eyes but can’t help the soft laugh truth escapes her. “You’d better,” she says, swatting lightly at his bare chest.

He smirks before gathering his clothes from the floor. Jo watches him for a moment, her head propped on her hand, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. He looks good, his hair messy, his lips still swollen pink from all the kissing. And he’s here—he’s always been hers. She knows she should feel lucky.

When he leaves the bedroom to disappear into the bathroom, Jo sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The cool air against her skin makes her shiver, so she grabs the first things she can find—a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from her drawer. She pulls them on quickly, then settles back on the bed, folding her legs beneath her as she waits for Asher to return.

The sharp buzz of a phone notification catches her attention, the sound loud in the quiet.

Instinctively, Jo reaches over to the nightstand, assuming it’s hers. She picks up the phone without thinking, the screen lighting up in her hand—and stops short.

The message isn’t hers.

Her heart stills in her chest, her breath halting for a moment as she stares at the screen. Without thinking, she presses on the contact, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling, unraveling everything she thought she knew in an instant.

She doesn’t notice the sound of the bathroom door opening, doesn’t register Asher’s footsteps until they’re right at her bedroom door.

And then she hears his voice, soft and unsuspecting. “What’s wrong?”

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dross-the-fish · 2 months ago

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I never had much interest in Elizabeth Lavenza tbh. I wasn't all that into Frankenstein before I found your blog but I've been converted. I still don't think I'm convinced that Elizabeth is an interesting character. I seem to remember her being generically kind and pretty then she died. Did I miss something?

There's actually a lot you can put together about her if you're willing to dig a little deeper into the text. Some of it is up to speculation/interpretation but that's part of the fun of exploring characters.

Victor describes her as highly creative and while he does go on about her good qualities as a person his description of her being self sacrificing and stepping up to fill Caroline's role makes me feel like she's a character that isn't given a CHOICE except to be a perfect saint and caretaker and mediator.

She doesn't seem all that interested in marrying Victor if you go by her letters where she's telling him she'd be completely fine with him finding someone else. Like she's not at liberty to break off the engagement herself but is lowkey looking for some kind of "out" is the vibe I get. She expresses regret that she can't travel like Victor does. When she tries to appeal to Alphonse about Justine he basically blows her off and says "If she's innocent he law will protect her" and Elizabeth goes to bat the hardest out of anyone in the family to save Justine. It comes to nothing and the loss shatters Elizabeth's world view.

There is actually a lot to this character, particularly in the 1818 version and the picture that kind of comes together is of someone who is in someways the opposite of the Creature but also overlapping in that she is an orphan who was abandoned by her father. And she was just old enough to remember that. I wouldn't be surprised if she was such a gracious and accommodating child because she was abandoned and has some apprehension of it happening again.

Elizabeth, despite having been initially abandoned is beautiful and beloved but tightly controlled and completely powerless. The reverse of the creature who is terrifying and hated but easily the most powerful character in the book.

Victor says of her:

"No one could better enjoy liberty, yet no one could submit with more grace than she did to constraint and caprice. Her imagination was luxuriant, yet her capability of application was great."

Maybe I'm naturally cynical but I've always gotten the vibe that Her acceptance and the love of her family comes at the cost of her freedom or ability to be anything outside of Victor's wife.

This isn't aimed at you specifically but I do find it a little tiresome that i have to defend why I think Elizabeth is interesting when there are people in the goth lit fandom trying to make a character out of Irene Adler's nothing burger husband Graham Norton. Who is only ever named and never makes a single actual appearance in "A Scandal In Bohemia"

#There will be no Elizabeth slander on this blog #I will crawl through the screen and bite you #Elizabeth Lavenza #Frankenstein

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Caro

Pernille Harder x Hardersson!Reader

Caroline Graham-Hanen x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The vending machine incident

The day of the incident begins like any other.

Momma wakes you up and dresses you in your you-sized green Harder jersey. She brushes your hair and serves you breakfast around getting ready for training.

You get bundled into the car and driven to practice where you have a second breakfast and essentially have free reign so long as you're in Momma's eyeline.

Practice is cool today and you get to run after stray balls, catching them in your hands and kicking them back to the nearest girl.

It's during one of Momma's media thingies that you wander off. She's sitting in front of a camera with a man speaking to her. You're sitting behind it, playing with your soft toys.

You're still very little, unable to do most things except walk and sometimes make noise. But you still have your opinions and you know that you passed one of those big black things that you press and get food out of.

You're half-dressed, having wiggled out of your shoes, socks and shorts so you manage to slip through the door in just one of Momma's long Wolfsburg jerseys and your nappy.

You stand in front of the big black thing, staring at all the snacks waiting for you. You're not tall enough to press on the buttons that Momma lets you do when she holds you so you try to stretch to reach.

"y/n?"

You turn at the mention of your second name. Momma and Morsa always call you 'princesse' so you suppose that y/n is your second name like how Momma's is Harder.

It's Caro.

Momma says she's from Norway which is kind of near Denmark but you can't like her in the same way that you're not allowed to like Morsa sometimes because she's from Sweden.

You think Caro's cool though because sometimes she wears a different jersey that's a colour that you don't know the name of yet but know you really like.

You blink up at her.

"Where's Pernille?" She asks you, knowing that you can understand her.

You ignore the question though and point at the big black thing. "Want."

"This one's broken."

You recognise that word and stamp your foot. "Want!"

She sighs, glancing back around before scooping you up. Caro's one of the people who's always a bit stiff holding you but you're happy in her arms, sucking at her shirt collar.

She carts you off up a set of stairs and down another corridor before you end up in front of the next big black thing. She fishes something out of her pocket and feeds it to the machine.

"What did you want?"

"Dat!" You say, pointing at a packet of crisps.

Caro lets you press the right buttons before sitting on the floor next to the big black thing and holding you between her legs.

You munch happily on your food, offering some to Caro which she graciously declines.

"Princesse!" There are calls of your name.

It sounds a bit like Momma so you grunt and go to move away.

Caro catches you around your stomach to keep you in place. Momma comes careening down the corner, tears dripping down her face as she crashes into you.

She does a silly kind of knee slide thing that crushes you between her and Caro - who looks just as surprised about the impact.

"Where did you find her?" She asks Caro before turning to you," Did you get lost, princesse? Did somebody take you?"

You don't answer, more preoccupied with kicking your legs out as Momma tries to slip your shorts back onto you.

"She was just by the vending machine," Caro says calmly," She wanted a snack. The one she was at was broken. I didn't want her to start crying."

"And no one was around her? Nobody took her?"

"Not that I could see."

Momma breathes out a deep breath, pulling you firmly into her body as soon as she's wrestled you back into your shorts. "You can't wander like that," She tells you though she knows that you're either not listening or not comprehending her," You could have gotten hurt."

You ignore her, staring up at the big black thing again and then back down at your empty crisps packet. You point. "Want!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #caroline graham hansen x reader #caroline graham hansen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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bethanydelleman · 2 months ago

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Which (unmarried) Austen villain would you marry if you HAD to choose? I'd realistically go for Mr. Elliot because I think he's got the lowest chance of transmitting syphilis, but in actuality Mary Crawford if it were any way possible.

This is too fun! Huh. I would stay very far away from Mr. Elliot. Perhaps no syphilis (which to be fair, Jane Austen kind of exists in an STI free world) but he was cruel to his first wife and I'm not arrogant enough to think I'm so much better that he wouldn't be cruel to me. However, he is good with money and that's probably my #1 criteria.

Mary Crawford, Caroline Bingley, and Me, Disaster Bisexual Polycule

Does Tom Bertram count as a villain? Because he did squander half his brother's inheritance and he's reformed by the end. He's a great choice as long as the reformation sticks. Frederick Tilney is tempting, and there is no evidence he actually slept with Isabella Thorpe in the novel (well maybe vague evidence). Plus, you'd get the best siblings-in-law and a whole abbey! Henry Crawford is intriguing if his wretchedness has resulted in a genuine change of behaviour, but his reputation might reflect poorly on the woman who married him (everyone would know he broke up the Rushworth marriage and women are blamed for men's faults).

A bunch of them are actually married by the end, Willoughby, Wickham, and Mr. Elton, I can't even think of who else is an option. Except John Thorpe but no, never ever in a million years...

SIR WALTER!!!! SIR WALTER IS STILL SINGLE! GIVE HIM TO ME!!!! I WILL TAKE THE STUPID, VAIN, SILVER FOX AND I WILL GET HIM OUT OF DEBT AND MOVE BACK TO HIS SWEET MANSION AND THEN SPIT OUT A MALE HEIR IT WILL BE GREAT I PROMISE

#jane austen #question response #the real answer is probably Frederick Tilney #sir walter elliot #sir walter my ridiculous love

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fandoms--fluff · 10 months ago

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Could you make a Hope x fem reader story we’re ready ends up getting in trouble at school for something stupid like getting into a fight and hopes worried at first but the once she knows Y/N fine she gets mad about her being stupid and getting the fight also if you can make Caroline in change of the school instead of Alaric bc he sucks

Together

Female hybrid reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: Mentions of death and blood, and murdery tendencies?, anger/rage issues.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can I go now" You huff, leaning back into the un-comfy arm chair across from Caroline Forbes, the headmistress' desk. Where she's sat, hands folding on the desk.

"No. You started a fight between two other vampires, killing one of them and almost killing the other." Caroline states, anger clear in her tone.

"So? They were annoying me and wouldn't. shut. up. They kept on going on and on about how much stronger they are than I am, even though I'm a damn hybrid. And so I snapped. Kind of. If I snapped all the way they'd be bloodied up way worse and both'd be dead. Not. just. one" You ground out, eyes turning an amber yellow and your veins appearing under your eyes.

Caroline shudders back and removes her hands from the top of the desk.

"Hmm, not so tough as you claim to be, or want to be seen as" You chuckle, not bothered with the caution and fear in her eyes and body stance.

"Oh come on, Blondie, no hard feelings, right?" You smirk and stand from the ugly chair, leaving the office with a mouth hanging open Caroline in your wake.

"Wait-ugh" Caroline huffs, giving up before she herself faces the consequences. She's annoyed with how easily you can get under her nerves and how, and she hates to admit it, she's a bit scared of you.

You have more than anyone has kept count of people you've murdered, and one more just got added to that giant never ending list twenty minutes ago.

Smirking, you walk down the hallway and head to your room. Once you got inside and shut the door, you sigh in relaxation when your head hit the pillow on your bed. You pick up the book from your bedside table and flip to the marked page you left off on.

"Please don't tell me what everyone is saying is true" Hope bursts into the room, slamming the door behind you. You look up to your girlfriend from the book and sigh.

"Is it really that bad?" You say sarcastically. "Yes, it is! Are you alright? Did something happen beforehand?" She exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Depends what you mean by 'something'" You relax back into your pillow.

"God, what were you thinking? Why did you kill that boy?" She huffs, sitting down on the foot of your bed.

"Well he was annoying so I fixed the problem" You shrug your shoulders in boredom. "Killing people is not a way to fix your problems, Y/n. Haven't we been over this before?! I swear we have" She's on the verge of yelling.

"So what if we have? You knew what you were getting yourself into once you started dating me, death, killing, trauma, the whole damn nine yards. Just like you. Except for minor differences obviously!" You stood up from the bed, crossing your arms as to not lash out and hurt your girlfriend. Even if you are fighting at the moment, you still care about her.

Sometimes you can't control your rage and you've ended up hurting people you love.

It all surprisingly got easier when your girlfriends father, Klaus Mikaelson, turned you into the only living hybrid this day. And ironically you ended up dating his daughter. Yeah, you're life is kinda...weird? to say the least.

Hope followed by standing up and tried reaching out to you. "No" You step away, backing into your desk. "Don't come any closer, I don't want to hurt you" You clamped your hands over your ears, holding tight until you couldn't hear anything but your thumping heart.

"You won't hurt me," Hope sighs. "Look, I know how the anger you feel is heightened, even more so than mine, but I'm here for you. All you have to do is let me in. And maybe ease up on the spontaneous murders." Hope walks over to you and pulls your hands away from your ears.

"At least at the school" She finishes. Baby steps, that's where she'll start. You chuckle in between deep breathes. "...Fine. We'll work on it. Together?" You slowly say.

"Yeah, together" She places a kiss on your lips.

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson x female reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #hope mikaelson x hybrid reader #hope mikaelson x female hybrid reader #hybrid reader #angst #caroline forbes #imagines #thevampirediaries #writing #fanfic #theoriginals #legacies #comfort

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azzie89 · 7 months ago

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Gravity

(A Lukas Matsson Fanfic)

Warnings: the Roys being assholes; no smut in this until a further chapter

Chapter One

You were the baby Roy. You were another child between Logan and Caroline after they divorced. It was one night of relapse that led to you. You were only twenty-three as Kendall was turning forty.

It was hard being so much younger than your siblings. You grew up mostly alone considering your siblings were grown and moved out by the time you were old enough to make many memories. You were closest to Shiv just because of the closer age but even then you were apart. An ocean apart.

Shiv didn't really have any use for you. Shiv was concerned with being daddy's favorite just as all the rest of them (except Connor) which meant you were left alone. Even your parents ignored you.

Caroline went back to England and Logan was too concerned with the company. Plus, Logan had three successors before you. He didn't have any concern for you. Not really. But still he always liked to pull you back into his web just like everyone else. And of course you let him swallow you back up into the web because you were so starved for affection. It was pathetic.

But as of now, he had no use for you. As of now, you were the Roy that had dropped out of business school only a year ago (shortly after the wedding Shiv had). No one knew why except your father and he had shipped you off to Uncle Ewan, not wanting to deal with you, to live in the country.

It was peaceful. You liked it up there with no one to bother you, out in the country, and you felt like you could breathe. And your father contacted you a few times but phone calls never lasted more than a few minutes. It was almost like he didn't know how to deal with you (which he didn't) because he didn't want to broach the subject of what happened a year ago so he simply ignored it. It allowed you to ignore it, too. Almost.

But today you were going back to New York City. Kendall was having his birthday and you would not miss it. You hadn't missed a single one of your siblings' birthdays just on the off chance they might for once notice you, acknowledge you, have need of you. But they had not. It didn't mean you wouldn't continue to try.

So here you were. At his very weird birthday party where the entrance was their mother's vagina. Your eyes had never been so wide. Despite that shock, you continued on. You asked around for Kendall until you came to the tree house.

You smiled prettily, politely, at the security as you asked them to tell you where Kendall was. If they could please make an exception. And they did. You were surprised as you were led through the tree house and right to Kendall. You smiled again at the guard with the soft words of thank you on your lips. The guard was starstruck as he nodded.

The look went unnoticed by you, too blind, too innocent, as you walked forward happily towards your big brother, "Kendall!"

He had been talking to someone but you didn't much care. You were happy to see him. He blinked as he paused in whatever he was saying to stare at you in surprise.

"El?" he questioned.

He had stood and you had immediately hugged him, wrapping him in a tight hug, hoping he wouldn't let go as you smiled so brightly, "Happy birthday!"

Kendall peeled you off of him like you were an unwanted leper which the guest he was with noticed. And he noticed how your smile fell a bit as Kendall did so.

"Thanks, El, but I'm kind of busy right now," Kendall said.

"Oh," your eyes glanced at the blonde guest that you had no idea who he was but you thought he looked rather handsome before you directed your gaze back to Kendall.

"Wait, how did you even get in here?"

You smiled brightly again, "Your security let me in. He was nice."

You didn't notice the guest smile in amusement.

"He let..." Kendall blinked before he sighed. "Look, El. Thanks. Really. But..."

"It's cool," the mystery man that hadn't taken his eyes off you spoke and you noticed he had a Swedish accent. "She can stay."

"Alright. El, this is Lukas," Kendall introduced.

You smiled shyly with a small Hi but even with the small smile your dimples were on full display. You had always been shy at first but once you got to know someone you were sure to never let them go.

Lukas thought you were cute. Adorable. An easy target. He wanted you in his bed.

Kendall kind of pulled you to sit next to him as he talked to Lukas. You didn't listen. You never cared about business talk. You also had a habit of tuning out randomly and dissociating from reality.

"You gonna be okay, El?" Kendall squeezed her shoulder.

"What?" you were confused; he was already leaving you.

"Gotta mingle, El," he chuckled.

"Yeah. I'll be okay," you said and then he was gone, leaving you.

You sighed sadly and Lukas commented, "I didn't know my company could be such a buzzkill."

"Oh," you had almost forgotten he was there. "It's not you."

"I know."

"El?" He questioned.

"Ella," you informed him.

"Ella?" he grinned. "Like the fucking princess?"

"Well," you smiled shyly. "I get treated like one."

"I bet you do," he licked his lips and he stared at you intensely which made your cheeks redden.

Lukas raked his eyes over your frame. You wore a ponytail and your outfit consisted of a turtle-neck sweater tucked into high-waist jeans. But everything was skin-tight on you, letting him see all your curves. You were small with the tiniest waist. But your breasts were large for someone so tiny. He wanted you.

"Do you want to get a drink?" he asked.

You nodded and you both stood up together. For the first time, you noticed how tall he was. Your eyes widened as you blurted out, "You're really tall."

He grinned, "You're really tiny."

You blushed a bit as they headed towards the bar. He was like a giant behind you as he placed a hand on the small of your back while they walked to the bar.

You ordered a mimosa. You had never really liked anything besides mixed drinks that lessened the taste of alcohol. Alcohol was new to you and you had never been one to really misbehave so the instances of you drinking alcohol were few and far between.

He had ordered another beer and the two of you stayed at the bar. His hand didn't move from the small of your back. In fact, his finger was lazily drawing shapes on your back. You didn't tell him to stop. It felt nice. You wouldn't admit that you were touch-starved.

"So, did my brother have some business with you or something?" you asked, cluelessly.

"You weren't listening?"

"It's rude to eavesdrop," you pouted as you shook your head.

"So it is," he grinned before he leaned in close, too close as he spoke. "I have business with your father."

"So what does my father want from you?" you turned towards him and although you had short legs, he did not. Your knees kept brushing.

"My company," He ever so discreetly prodded a knee to slot between your legs. He seemed so calm while internally your heart was racing and a blush crept up your cheeks warm, hot, and blazing.

You put your half-empty drink down, deciding it would only make your cheeks even more red. You had turned your head away from him, too afraid to look, trying to hide your very red cheeks.

You didn't expect him to lean in to whisper into your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"And go where?" you asked curiously.

"Back to my place."

"To do what?" you peeked at him.

"I have trouble sleeping," his suggestive grin grew. "And I think you could help me."

"Like you can't sleep without someone laying next to you?"

He blinked at you. Were you serious? Did you really not know what he was referring to? And the answer was yes, you did not know.

"You should get a dog," you suggested.

"What?"

"A dog. If you need someone to sleep beside you, a dog could fix it," she informed. "I always wanted a dog. I had one once. Hid him in my room for a week before anyone noticed. Then he got out of my room and peed on the carpet. My dad was...mad. I cried and pleaded but...my dad got rid of him."

"It took him a week to notice?"

"Well...yes," you admitted.

He shook his head at the absurdity. How could someone so beautiful be ignored? It did not make any sense.

"Do you want another dog?" he asked before he joked. "I'm sure your brother has one stashed around here somewhere in this fucking monstrosity."

You giggled and it was like music to his fucking ears before you spoke, "This whole thing really is bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

And the night went on with them talking. Well, mostly you talked and he listened as you drank more. And his knee would inch closer to you between your legs but you were convinced that he did not know what he was doing. You chose to play it cool and ignore it even though you were hyperaware of his every movement. And his fingers still drew patterns on your back as you sat beside him making you lean into his touch slightly. You liked it. You liked him.

Your lips formed a dazed smile. You were a lightweight and alcohol made you really happy. Your eyes were droopy, though. Your mind would crash later.

You mumbled with that intoxicated smile, "You're nice."

"Am I?" he smirked a bit.

"Yeah," you smiled before frowning a bit. "No one ever listens to me."

"With such a pretty fucking voice?" he raised his eyebrows.

She giggled, "No one's ever said that to me."

"No?"

"No," she confessed as she bit her lip and you looked away in thought.

His crystal blue eyes were intently focused on you now. On your lips but you didn't notice. But then the two of you were interrupted by your brother, Roman.

You had jumped up at the sight of him and happily hugged him, "Roman!"

"Oh. Wow. So you're in town. Great," he patted your back awkwardly. "Welcome back."

Roman removed himself from your hold and immediately took your seat you had left as he talked to Lukas, "So there you are. Hiding from me like a human VPN and getting cozy with my sister, uh?"

Lukas stared at him coldly as he took a sip of his beer, "Yeah. We're comfortable."

"Not so comfortable now obviously," his tone was clipped and annoyed as Lukas turned his eyesight back to you.

You looked dejected. You stood there and realized you had nowhere to sit now that Roman took your chair. You sighed and he leaned in, whispering as he offered, "You want to sit in my lap?"

"You wouldn't mind?" you chewed on your lip in consideration. You didn't want to be a burden as that was all you ever were.

"No," he grinned a bit before he grabbed you by placing his hands on your waist and lifting you easily to sit on his lap. You situated yourself to sit comfortably, not realizing it caused a dilemma as Lukas inhaled deeply once your ass brushed slightly against his crotch.

"Thanks," you muttered sweetly as you turned your head slightly to look at him. He nodded his head.

"Look, you can totally be 'comfortable' with my sister later," Roman said with air quotes around comfortable. You squinted your eyes at the meaning of that.

"Can I?" Lukas grinned.

"Yeah. Whatever," Roman shrugged.

"What are you trying to say?" you didn't understand. "We're friends or...we're going to be. Of course, we're comfortable."

Lukas couldn't help but grin softly. Roman rolled his eyes, "Do you ever realize how dumb you are?"

You gained a hurt look in your eyes as you pouted. Lukas straightened in his seat and his tone was cold, "Let's not insult your sister, ja?"

"Yeah. Sure..."

And Roman started to talk business. You tuned out of whatever they were saying. You didn't notice Lukas started to play with the ends of your hair, twirling it around his fingers, as he barely listened to your brother.

His other hand was on the edge of the bar and you grabbed it. You played with his fingers in your lap before tracing the lines of his palm. You giggled a bit at the fact that he had no love line. No love for Lukas, you made a joke in your head.

Lukas was gazing at you intently, trying to figure out what you were thinking. You were a complete mystery to him and far from boring.

"If she's apart of the deal in some capacity, will you consider it?" Roman asked.

"You can tell your father I'll be apart of the conversation," Lukas said, wanting to get him to leave.

"Great. I'll take that," Roman smiled like he won the lottery and he got up to leave. "El."

You tuned back in and Roman was giving you a look, telling you he wanted to talk. As he started to leave, you got up to follow.

"It was nice to meet you," you smiled politely at Lukas before leaning in and giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

He grinned, "We'll meet again."

His look was intense and you blushed, nodding, before you scurried off after Roman. Roman grabbed your arm once you caught up and pulled you into a more private area.

"I didn't know you could play dirty, little sis," Roman said.

"What are you talking about, Roman?"

"Come on. You show up and suddenly Matsson is all over you. Were you gonna blow him tonight to get the deal and become Daddy's favorite? Or were you just gonna let him ass-fuck you in that chair?"

"I-What? Roman, ew," you blinked in confusion. "What is wrong with you? I just met him."

Your nose scrunched at the thought and Roman rolled his eyes, "Oh, yeah. I forgot. There is no such thing as fucking a stranger and absolutely no one does that ever."

"Well, I. Do. Not," you clarified.

"What? You didn't think about his dick at all while you were sitting on it? Don't be such a prude," Roman said. "Now, go back to Matsson. Tell him you'll fuck him if he takes the deal. Tell him I sent you."

You stared at him in disbelief and shook your head, "Roman, I am not a sex toy that can be bought and sold. I'm your sister."

"Yeah, so do your big brother a favor and take him home. He was giving you fuck me eyes the whole time. He'll be overjoyed."

"He was not giving me...eyes," you were flustered. "He was just being nice since you were so rude."

"Wait," he smiled. "You actually believe that?"

You were silent and he started to laugh. You huffed before storming past him, planning to leave, with your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. And you still did not believe what Roman was suggesting.

AN: I have more chapters on Wattpad currently by the way

#lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson #succession #kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy #logan roy #fanfic #fanfiction #matsson x roy!sibling

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readingandrelaxing · 8 months ago

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Caroline Forbes: Second Choice in reel, First Choice in real.

OPINIONS NO ONE CARES ABOUT: EPISODE 4

We've talked about Katherine and Elena. Let's talk about Caroline Forbes now.

To give an overview, Caroline Forbes is a character which the showrunners did not want the audience to like, since she was written as the second-grade, watered-down version of the main character, Elena Gilbert.

What's interesting however, is that Caroline is far more beloved among the audience than Elena. Let's explore why.

Ever since the show commenced, from the first episode itself we could see that Caroline was portrayed in a way which was aimed at gaining dislike from the audience. From her asking Elena if she was going to continue with cheer after her parents died, or when she found out all about Stefan in school, the 'i got the other brother' dialogue, it all showcases the fact that Caroline was supposed to be a shallow, insensitive, breezy girl who doesn't have a care in life.

This was shown to be in contrast with the deep, pure, kind and compassionate Elena, who's more serious about life and isn't jealous of the people around her and doesn't try to one-up them. Caroline however, is shown to be competitive, ambitious, envious and tries to prove to everyone that she is the best because she doesn't feel like she's enough.

The showrunners tried to highlight this prime difference between the two, intent upon showing that it is Elena who's better, not Caroline. Elena who is inspirational, and Caroline who is relatable. But in this portrayal, audience found a way to connect with Caroline than Elena in a much easier and heartfelt manner.

Caroline, despite having been in a relationship with almost all male characters in the show with a few exceptions, is not considered appealing or objectively attractive by them. Most of them are with her because they couldn't get someone better, or because they liked her slightly. Slightly.

In fact, the only man who loved Caroline unconditionally, irrevocably and without expecting her to be someone else, is Klaus Mikaelson.

One of the biggest villians of the show.

So why do fans love her more?

The answer is simple, yet complex.

Elena, who's the person Caroline is subtly compared to, is shown as picture perfect right from the start, from being beautiful, smart, kind, intelligent and desirable. From the first episode of the first season, she's shown as the one who always knows what the right thing to say is, who knows the perfect way of behaviour in different situations.

Caroline however, is shown to be exactly the opposite in the beginning. But at the end of the show, she's a completely changed person, who's mature and not the kiddish teenager anymore.

Audience has to see the growth of the character, we have got to see how Caroline changes from a shallow, self-centered girl to a woman who is selfless, smart, quickwitted and a deep thinker. We, as an audience liked to see her journey as she became a better version of herself throughout the show, in contrast to someone who was perfect right from the beginning.

People can see themselves grow as she did, see themselves improve into a better version of themselves, see themselves become better. Caroline is not only relatable but also inspirational in that sense.

Another point, which is certainly argumentative, is Caroline's nature. She was never shown as the 'pick me' or the 'I am not like other girls' stereotype, which people must have found more welcoming and appreciable. Caroline also never tried to hide her girly nature to show others that she is tough, and it gave a crystal clear message that all kinds of women can be strong, both tomboys and girly girls. She's also unique in that way, since there's no other character like her.

I certainly loved her for that.

In conclusion, Caroline became the character who audience was not supposed to love, but they ended up creating one of the most beloved characters on TV.

Thanks for reading!

#books #caroline forbes #klaus x caroline #tvdu #tvd series #tvd fandom #tvd #tvd character analysis #the vampire diaries #love caroline forbes #klaroline #opinions no one cares about #episode 4 #character analysis #book tumblr #bookstagram #queue #scheduled

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simplegenius042 · 27 days ago

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Music Monday & WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @direwombat and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @raresvtm @imogenkol @noodlecupcakes @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @cassietrn @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @derelictheretic @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @saynogrumpy + anyone else who'd like to join.

Music for The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and the terrible trio Noir, Nova and Noa, as well as an WIP for a new FC5 AU called Doll!Silva AU... I'll elaborate some more later below the cut:

Noir, Nova and Noa are a trio of sixth-generation kin whose entire purpose is to act as both an obstacle and represent the number one thing to keep in mind about the multiverse, especially while Jade Smith and Jasmine Rafiq are exploring the various worlds; everything and everyone they will come across will be unpredictable and are never as simply good and bad. Noir, Nova and Noa are both nuisances, guides, roadblocks and advisors. If Jade and Jasmine can adapt to their wacky antics, then to the three kin, the couple are ready for anything that comes their way.

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"I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone So while you're here in my arms Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young We're gonna die young We're gonna die young Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young!"

"Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, like we're gonna die young Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, like we're gonna die young Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, like we're gonna die young!" "Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young!"

Out of all the stories in The Silva Chronicles, I think the most tragic of them all is my Bloodborne WIP, thus far, that is. I only say this cause while WIPs like La Última En Pie, Ain't It A Joy? and How Good Is A Heist If It's Improvised? (although Silva's Hope, Call To Arms and No One's Safe At Home can qualify) are all expressively tragic and often end more bitter rather sweet, they are also kind of connected together, their previous arcs and growth following over to Silva's Hope and then ending rather hopefully in Old Dusk. Meanwhile, the Bloodborne WIP, which I shall call Hematophobia: Fear The Paleblood, is the MOST tragic and the only one I'm confident in saying has a downer ending for majority of characters, even if I keep some of it very ambiguous, like the game itself does. Yharnam and its inhabitants, are doomed to fall. The hunters get little to no peace for their duties, in fact most go mad. The Jäger siblings, Tobias and Caroline, went to Yharnam to cure Caroline of her blood disease, and in the end, one is too ignorant towards duty over family, while the other is irreversibly changed by the knowledge accumulated and all the violence and horror that was witnessed over the course of the long night, and neither will ever be able to see each other again. Splinter succeeds in killing Nigel but fails in his vows to protect others and can't rectify his mistake once he's awoken from the dream and detained by the Time Bureau Authority. In fact, with exception to Caroline's actions (although that's being too generous), mostly everyone else fails in their missions or suffer from the Monkey Paw effect, meaning a lot of everyone's actions throughout this WIP end up being all for nothing, really. It's weird that one Soulsborne WIP (this one) ends ambiguously but certainly the closest to an outright downer ending in my series, while the Elden Ring WIP (another Soulsborne game), ends up being the closest to an actual legitimate happy ending in this series (I'd say Old Dusk is the second closest to a happy ending for Silva, Azriel, Nadi, Alexander, Schrödinger, Isiah and Gemini in addition to most canon characters, though it still has a few bitterness to its overall sweetness).

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"Do you realize? That you have the most beautiful face

Do you realize? We're floating in space

Do you realize? That happiness makes you cry

Do you realize? Everyone you know Someday Will die

Do you realize? Everyone you know Someday Will die!"

And lastly, let's talk about one of the little cheeky themes of Life, Despair & Monsters. That being: Connection and bonds, and how strong bonds can make and break a person. How bonds can be the greatest and worst thing. How bonds if maintained well can never shake against adversity, and if maintained poorly, or just one-sided/superficial, will result in failure. The bonds of siblings (like between Haoyu and Monika, Icarus/Hatsukami/Xavier and their family, or even Corvus and Rhaenyra and their half-siblings), the bond of lovers (Sonya and Jennifer, Guenevere and Morgana, Haoyu and Icarus), the bond of friends (Rico and Lora, Lora and Lancelot, Hatter and Marinette & Adrien) and other type of bonds are important in their success to be maintained and reinforced, lest they fall apart and are left alone. To serve as a contrast, the members of the Ruins of the Midnight Rise do not manage their bonds rather well; Malvolio is a being incapable of comprehending the importance of connection and bonds considering he originates from a wild dimension where the main consensus is "survive or die" and therefore his bonds with those around him (such as Denise, Evie and Inviticus) are more superficial rather than deeply genuine (he cries no rivers when Evie dies, only expresses disappointment that his favored creation has failed to continue living, and abandons Denise when she's proven unable to uphold her end of their accord with her lack of arms), with members like Inviticus and Impulse, and allies like Paul Yellowjack, being aware of this fact, and only keeping up their ends of this social accord to get what they want out of it. The only exception to this is Uni (or rather, the Unity) and Frederick Rosemary, the former of whom is an amalgamation of the worlds greatest Third Eye users downloaded/possessing in a mechanical monstrosity holding history and knowledge and scientific endeavors, which is something Malvolio can connect with, while the latter is unbothered by the "necessity" to do horrific things in the "name of progress" with a darkly crude sense of humor, something Malvolio finds himself flocking to the closest thing of a genuine if twisted friendship with Frederick despite his depravities. Minor note is that Denise doesn't really like the other members with exception to the Director, Evie only cares about gaining Malvolio's praise, Inviticus and Impulse only desire to hunt, and the other Displacements are enslaved by Malvolio. Sliding away from the Midnight Rise and focusing on the Occult, Aggrevor genuinely doesn't care about his fellow cultists and the relationship between the Occult and the Kin they want to bring back and worship is explicitly either one-sided or mutually abusive. Haoyu, Icarus, Sonya and the others are able to rise above their enemies due to learning to secure and keep their bonds strong with mutual respect and genuine friendship, even when they are all at their lowest point in the journey.

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"We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise 'til we fall They say we got no-no-no-no future at all They wanna ke-ke-keep us out Can't hold us down anymore We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise 'til we fall

When we hit the bottom, nothing gonna stop us Climb to the top with you We could be the greatest, ones who never made it Yeah, I could be talking to you They tryna hate, hate, hate But we won't change, change anything at all, oh We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise 'til we fall

They think we're just dropouts Living at out mom's house Parents must be so proud They know it all No, they don't speak out language They say we're too savage, yeah No, no, we don't give a- anymore

We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise 'til we fall We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise 'til we fall No, they don't speak out language They say we're too savage, yeah No, no, we don't give a- anymore We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise 'til we fall

They say we're goin' no-no-no-no-no-no-nowhere But what they don't know, know, know is that we don't, don't care We're gon' keepin' on, keepin' on goin' 'til we can't go no more We're gonna ri-ri-ri-ri-rise 'til we fall, yeah!"

And here's the WIP snippet for my newest FC5 AU for Silva... Doll!Silva AU, inspired by Bloodborne yet again, but this time, neglecting the werewolves and gothic horror for just the existential and lovecraftian horror with the main focus being on the altered Gehrman and Plain Doll dynamic (old badass mentor appears physically weak with only the human-sized and somehow magically alive doll of his equally badass pupil to take care of him but he feels self-hatred and guilt for making her every time he looks at her due her having more subjectively traditionally feminine and obedient qualities which misses the qualities that the original alive woman had in the first place and is nothing more but the physical manifestation of his shame and mistakes), but with Silva and Paul instead. And in Hope County. So here's Mary May (in contribution to... ahem, Mary MAY) coming across the spitting image of a rookie deputy who is supposed to be dead but yet is alive in front of her and very off-putting and different from before she maybe died(?). Read below:

Mary shut off the radio, much to Drew's complaints, shaking her head as she continued to drive them back to Fall's End, which was a long ride away while in the Henbane.

But shutting up her yapping brother and that irritating music wasn't enough to escape the topic of the cult; they passed a multitude of billboards and signs of Eden's Gate propaganda.

In the span of two years, they've spread like an infection across the county's three regions. And yet, the Henbane seems to have gone through the most changes. Especially with the introduction of those batches of white flowers.

Flowers that either make you high or nauseous when going too close to it, Mary snarled in her mind, How is that NOT considered a health issue, or extremely dangerous? Why haven't the Sheriff's Department actually done anything about that yet?

She remembered Deputy Omar seemed keen on tackling a potential investigation, probably one of the few deputies who actually took the cult's growing influence with serious consideration, much like her father...

Not like it matters much now, considering the funeral last week.

Such a reminder made Mary huff, taking a swift glance to Drew in the passenger seat. Her little brother was quiet, looking out the window, trying to read whatever were on the billboards they passed. Most likely the cult's, since she picked him up from the Convent.

Her grip tightened on the leathery wheel. She hoped Ma and Pa could talk some sense into Drew. She could see how curious he was about the cult, and she was so afraid of how far they hot their claws in him. She hoped he could be dissuaded by seeing how bad Eden's Gate had effected business at the Spread Eagle.

She couldn't fathom the feeling of losing a family member. Not like how Paul had recently. Considering she hasn't seen him since a little after the funeral when he came to the Spread Eagle, she was certain he wasn't doing well.

That was a pain she wasn't going to let happen to her family. Not now, and especially not by the cult.

She opened her mouth to say something to Drew; to let him know he can talk to her, that his older sister is just worried for him, that she loves and cherishes him just as Ma and Pa do, even if they are a little hard on him. To affirm to him that he can turn to them for anything. Better than the cult could possibly do.

However, no such words leave her mouth as she spotted something out on the side of the road.

Her gaze locked on to a crouching figure adorned in black as the truck passed them, a little way on the side of the road, way too close to those pale flowers that the cult owned.

Does this person not know about the flowers? she pondered briefly, as it seemed to be the only reasonable explanation considering how new those flowers are. They certainly didn't appear to be a Peggie, usually the cult were adorned in white, browns and sometimes an occasional red and black. Never just... black.

Regardless, while watching from her rear view mirror, Mary watched in abject horror how the person - a woman, she was sure now - picked a flower out and curiously brought it closer to her face.

Not a moment longer, Mary slammed her foot down on the breaks, much to Drew's shock, swerving to park on the side of the road as she unbuckled her seat belt and practically hopped out of the truck once she opened the door without further elaboration.

She urgently ran towards the black-clad woman who held the flower up to her nose. The woman still hadn't noticed her yet. There was something familiar about her to Mary, but she couldn't fathom what it was; the dark hair or the silvery white flowing down the braid tail behind her.

It didn't matter; she had to get the woman away from the flowers.

"Hey!" she shouted towards the stranger, gaining closer, "Stop!"

Her shouts seemed to alarm the woman, causing her to lift her head away from the flower and towards Mary's approaching figure.

Once she gained close enough to be a few big steps from coming up to the woman, Mary states, "You need to get away from those flowers-"

Her words caught in her throat as the woman stood up from her crouched position. There were a total number of three thoughts that crashed Mary's brain.

Her first thought being, Oh, she's TALL. With how the woman loomed over her, and the way she had to tilt her head down to reach eye contact with Mary. A part of Mary wanted to claim the woman was eight feet tall. Perhaps it wouldn't be quite an exaggeration, but reasonably the woman had to be at least a little over seven feet.

The second thought was focused on what the woman was wearing; obviously it was a modest knee-length black dress (the hem of which seemed to reach a bit more below the knees), dark gloves with leathery knee-high boots that successfully covered the rest of the woman's legs. Even her neck was covered by an ascot of some kind. She also adorned a laced veil or shawl over her dark and silvery hair, with a large comb fixed in her braided hair. Every inch of the woman's body, with exception to her face, didn't allow any skin to show off.

She looks like she came back from a funeral, is the impression Mary got.

But the final thought was what truly had Mary staring at the stranger's face in a state of shock. Except, it wasn't a stranger's face she was looking at.

It can't be, Mary struggled to contextualize the impossibility of what or rather who she was in front of her. Skin that held a dark complexion. The faint scarring from a time before entering Hope County. Chapped lips that hadn't been healing for long since arriving to the county. And although her eyes weren't as dull or grey as they should have been, the silver that practically illuminated from those rings around her pupils were not far off from the color she did possess.

Mary wondered if the nearby pale flowers were messing with her mind, their sweet and citrus smell not too far off. Because how else could she rationalize seeing a dead woman standing in front of her.

Though the more she stared at her, the more she her head pounded, her blue eyes blinking as it felt like her retinas burned, and how ill she felt from just standing near her.

It had to be those flowers that were causing such a reaction out of her. Although that didn't explain why the woman in front of her didn't appear to even be as effected by them as she should be. After all, she practically had one of those flowers up to her face, and here Mary was struggling to stand by being a couple steps away from the batch.

"Are you alright, señorita?" the woman asked in a clear and non-slurring tone, with such a familiar voice that held the same purr of the accent that had Mary almost shamelessly swoon when she first heard it, and fuck, did that not sound like her voice.

She could practically remember like it was yesterday, even if it was a little over last week, answering the woman - the deputy's - questions in regards to the cult.

There was no way to get a confirmation without forcing her tongue to form the words and ask the one question that she most certainly knows the answer to.

"I'm fine," she said all too quickly, her words struggling to form properly as her mind withered at the sight of this spitting image of someone she knew and saw on a regular occurrence, "It's just- who are you? What's your name?"

She could hear Drew's steps come closer, but she couldn't focus on that now, even if it was more bearable than focusing on the woman before her, who's very appearance both made her want to collapse from the confusion of it all and yet also hurl from the mixing scents of sweet citruses, sharp woodwork, nature and decay. She blamed that particular response on those flowers though.

The woman before her tilted her head curiously, unblinking, even if the first thing she should be asking was who Mary was, or the approaching Drew, or why Mary shouted to her to stop and get away from the pale flowers, or any number of questions that wouldn't make such a interaction feel even more off than it already was.

Instead, the woman, a mirror of the dead rookie deputy Mary attended the funeral for a week ago, merely gives her a polite smile, and bows her head slightly in greeting and responds to her question with an answer that Mary feared to hear.

"I am Silva. Caretaker of Paul, mi... padre," she tells a disbelieving Mary, her silver eyes glinting with familiarity as she adds, "It is a pleasure to see you again, Señorita Fairgrave."

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