#looking for machine learning developer

[connect-infosoft-technologies]

9 AI Tools to Build Websites and Landing Pages: Revolutionizing Web Design

In the ever-evolving world of web design, staying ahead of the curve is essential to creating visually stunning and highly functional websites. With the advent of artificial intelligence (AI), designers and developers now have a powerful set of tools at their disposal to revolutionize the web design process. AI website design tools offer innovative solutions that streamline and enhance the creation of websites and landing pages. 

In this article, we will explore nine AI tools that are reshaping the web design landscape, discuss their various types, and highlight the benefits of using AI tools for website building.

1. Wix ADI:

Wix ADI (Artificial Design Intelligence) is a game-changer for website building. It utilizes AI algorithms to automatically generate customized website designs based on user preferences and content inputs. With Wix ADI, even users with no design experience can create stunning websites in a matter of minutes.

2. Grid:

Grid is an AI-powered website builder that uses machine learning to analyze design principles and create visually pleasing websites. It takes user inputs, such as branding elements and content, and generates unique layouts and designs tailored to the user's needs. Grid eliminates the need for manual coding and design expertise, making it accessible to users of all skill levels.

3. Firedrop:

Firedrop is an AI chatbot-based website builder that guides users through the entire website creation process. The AI-driven chatbot asks questions, gathers information, and generates a personalized website design. It also offers real-time editing and customization options, allowing users to make changes effortlessly.

4. Bookmark:

Bookmark is an AI website builder that combines artificial intelligence with human assistance. It provides an intuitive interface where users can select a design style and content preferences. The AI algorithms then generate a website layout, which can be further customized using Bookmark's drag-and-drop editor. Users also have access to AI-driven features like automated content creation and personalized marketing recommendations.

5. Adobe Sensei:

Adobe Sensei is an AI and machine learning platform that enhances the capabilities of Adobe's creative tools, including website design software like Adobe XD. Sensei analyzes user behavior, content, and design elements to offer intelligent suggestions, automate repetitive tasks, and speed up the design process. It empowers designers to create impactful websites with greater efficiency and creativity.

6. The Grid:

The Grid is an AI-driven website builder that uses machine learning to analyze user content and generate unique, responsive website designs. It employs a card-based layout system, automatically arranging and resizing content for optimal visual appeal. The Grid's AI algorithms continuously learn from user feedback, improving the quality of designs over time.

7. Elementor:

Elementor is a popular AI-powered plugin for WordPress that simplifies the process of building landing pages. It offers a drag-and-drop interface with a wide range of pre-designed templates and widgets. Elementor's AI features include responsive editing, dynamic content integration, and intelligent design suggestions, enabling users to create professional landing pages efficiently.

8. Canva:

Although primarily known as a graphic design tool, Canva incorporates AI elements to make website design accessible to non-designers. It offers a user-friendly interface with customizable templates, stock images, and drag-and-drop functionality. Canvas AI algorithms suggest design elements and provide automatic resizing options, making it easier to create visually appealing websites and landing pages.

9. Sketch2React:

Sketch2React is an AI tool that simplifies the process of converting design files from Sketch (a popular design software) into interactive, code-based websites. It automates the conversion process, reducing the need for manual coding and accelerating the development timeline. Sketch2React's AI capabilities ensure that the resulting websites are responsive and optimized for different devices.

Benefits of Using AI Tools for Website Development:

1. Time-saving: AI tools automate repetitive and time-consuming tasks, allowing designers and developers to focus on creativity and strategic aspects of web design.

2. Cost-effective: AI tools eliminate the need for extensive coding knowledge or hiring professional designers, making website building more affordable for businesses of all sizes.

3. User-friendly: AI website builders provide intuitive interfaces, drag-and-drop functionality, and automated design suggestions, making them accessible to users with limited technical skills.

4. Personalization: AI algorithms analyze user preferences and content inputs to generate personalized website designs that align with the brand and target audience.

5. Enhanced creativity: AI tools offer design suggestions, templates, and automated content creation features that inspire creativity and enable designers to experiment with new ideas.

6. Improved user experience: AI-driven websites are optimized for responsiveness, usability, and accessibility, resulting in enhanced user experiences and increased engagement.

Conclusion:

AI tools have revolutionized the web design industry by simplifying and enhancing the process of building websites and landing pages. Whether it's generating personalized designs, automating repetitive tasks, or offering intelligent design suggestions, AI-driven solutions empower designers and non-designers alike to create visually stunning and highly functional websites. By leveraging the power of AI, businesses can save time, reduce costs, and deliver exceptional user experiences, ultimately driving success in the digital landscape. As AI technology continues to advance, we can expect even more innovative tools to emerge, further revolutionizing the field of web design. Embracing these AI tools is key to staying at the forefront of web design trends and creating websites that captivate audiences and achieve business goals.

[connectinfo1999]

Top Machine Learning Frameworks To Use- Connect Infosoft

Dive into the world of cutting-edge technology with our latest blog post, "Top Machine Learning Frameworks To Use," brought to you by Connect Infosoft.

Discover the perfect toolkit for your AI projects, whether you're a beginner or an expert in the field. We've explored the top ML frameworks that are shaping the future of AI, and we can't wait to share our insights with you.

[theoraeeken]

something about how the mcmg went from looking like the kind of guys you'd match with on tinder in a fit of self destruction horniness, to just like... men who listen to dad rock. chris sabin looks like he works in a marketing firm. alex shelley looks like he teaches drum lessons. compelling. really truly compelling. and weirdly hot.

[segfaulteddreams]

Rearranged my whole room today just to set up my 32-bit Windows XP machine right next to my desk so that this way I can start writing ps1 games more frequently/easily 😁

[doedipus]

a large amount of time I've been spending on -untitled undefined scope original fiction project- since the last time I posted about it has been trying to develop the protagonist concept I came up with last summer or whatever into like, a character that would feel real and era appropriate.

it's fun research to do. naturally a lot of the details I assigned to her are things that I already think are cool, so it's been a lot of fun trying to trace her traits back through the relatively recent past, getting reminded of how much things have changed, or where the gaps in my intuition are, and then doing a flurry of reading to get a sense for exactly how someone like her and the people around her could have happened and what her life was probably like leading up to her present day. hopefully this results in some good good verisimilitude.

[mildew-dread-mold]

with the way technology is moving forward at this point the best thing you can do for yourself is to be adaptable.

ai taking jobs is inevitable and in the long run could be a good thing but it super sucks that people controlling whether or not ai takes jobs seem to care very little about the people whose jobs are being taken. being able to adapt and be employable is THE most important skill to have right now.

[neoplatinum]

cowgirls do it better | sophia laforteza

synopsis: it's been 2 years. 2 years since your wife has ripped your heart out as she tried mending it. but now you're in her home court, to finalize the divorce. there's a couple things you need to learn about sophia's life before you leave.

pairing: (ex-ish) wife!sophia x cowgirl!reader

tags: angst, slow-burn, fluff, smut, g!p reader (don't like, don't read), alcohol, mentions of rehab, tension, marriage troubles, cheating but also not really cheating, slight religious themes, cowboys/cowgirls, a-list-celebrity!sophia, manon, more…

wc: 20.7k

"i'll be here waitin' ever so patiently, for you to snap out of it"

(part 1)

2 years later, lax, los angeles

“spare change?” 

it wasn’t how you imagined touching down in california. the casual mix of lavishness and poverty running like parallel lines through the city.

it’s not a pretty sight. 

you offer the man a couple bucks, hearing his praises of God and thanking you for your generosity. you give him a wave, leaving for your chauffeured ride. 

sophia had managed to send you a ride, with the cliché man dressed in a suit and sign with your name. the driver offers to take your duffel bags, dropping them into the trunk of his car. you hop into the car, a general feeling of restlessness running through your veins.

you swore that you would never step into this city. never let your path cross with hers again. she had her own life out here, and you had your own.

but of course, life has its own way. and you either try to fight against the current, or flow with it.

the ride was tedious at best, long traffic on the 5. sunny sunny california with people swarming. each with their own busy lives and even more complicated stories. you were just another story here, with a past that you were hoping to untangle here.

in an instant the buildings gave way to huge mountains. then you saw it, the large houses on the hills. grand spanish-style mansions, newly developed ultra modern ones with expansive windows. infinity pools on the cliffs. 

you definitely weren’t in your ranch back in new mexico. life moved differently here. you shift a bit in your seat, watching the city fly by in front of you. it's gorgeous, but you’d rather be here under different circumstances. 

the driver pulls into the ritz-carlton. definitely not the motel you booked for yourself. there’s a huge circle driveway with many nice cars parked out front for the valet. dark velvet carpets, almost welcoming you in like a star. you gave yourself a once over, the cowgirl attire wasn’t one that was common here. letting out a long sigh. you missed your idyllic life back at your ranch.

the driver drops off your bags onto a cart gently. he gives a slight nod of the head and soon a bellboy is immediately at your side. ready to push your stuff into the hotel. you’re getting money out of your wallet, when he pushes a hand out.

“ma’am, it’s been paid for. have a good rest of your day.” he leaves you and drives away.

fucking sophia. you curse her in your head. 

“of course she would do this”, you grumble to yourself, walking after the bellboy towards the receptionist’s desk. you can hear small conversations droned out by the large front lobby. there’s staff all around, ready at an instant to cater to any patron’s need. the bellboy continues to wheel the cart forward. the sound of your boots muffled by the velvet carpet.

and you arrive in front of the receptionist’s desk. several staff members rapidly typing on their computers. at the sight of you, a woman looks up, calling you up to the desk.

“good afternoon, i have a reservation.” you speak, grabbing your ID out of your wallet.

“oh perfect! we have you set up in the presidential suite.” the receptionist smiles at you, giving you a knowing look. she goes back to rapidly clicking and typing into her machine. 

“i’m sorry, do you know me?” you look a little lost.

“of course we do, miss laforteza informed us of your stay.” she offers a trained smile.

fucking sophia.

“right, of course…well, thank you.” you’re left a bit annoyed. 

who was she to dictate where you were going?

“here’s your room key and please feel free to call room service at any point. your tab has already been covered.” she explains, sliding over a small folder with your hotel keycard.

you offer an awkward smile to the receptionist before walking off to the elevators. your cowboy heels clack loudly against the waxed floor. 

you smooth out your hair for a second, already feeling annoyed that everything’s been paid for by sophia.

“may i see your card?” the bellboy askes you. you slide him your keycard, watching the way his eyes go wide at it.

he opens the large elevator and taps the keycard to head to the highest level of the hotel. and the elevator shoots up, rapidly climbing the tower where you can gaze out at the open city shrinking below you.

you admire the city for another couple of seconds when the elevator dings, and the doors open. 

you trail after the bellboy, entering the long hallway adorned with a gold and white floor. large oil paintings lining the walls, with individual lamps illuminating each one.

it’s starting to dawn on you that maybe you really don’t know sophia. you don’t know how she can afford this lavishness, enough to book you the presidential suite.

he opens the large doors to the suite for you, opening to the largest room you’ve ever stepped into. floor to ceiling windows peering over the city. a gorgeous large round table with a bouquet centerpiece. 

beautiful couches and sectionals just in the main area that you’ve walked into. you can spot at least three doors that must lead into their individual rooms.

“wow, i’ve never stepped in here.” the bellboy gives a whistle as he places your bags by the couches. he gives the room a once over before turning to you. “anything else i can help you with ma’am?”

“uh, no i’m all good.” you reply. and he’s starting to walk away, pushing the luggage cart. “wait! here, take this.” 

you hand him a 20, to which he smiles and happily pockets. closing the door behind him. 

and now you’re left in the presidential suite in a ritz-carlton.

you walk around, taking in the room, opening doors to more living rooms and bedrooms. a large california king with softer than silk duvets. the showers are humongous, enough to fit at least ten people inside. a beautiful vintage ceramic bathtub that is seated near the window. you eventually open to the balcony, a large infinity pool rushing with water. perfectly shaped hedges off to the side.

you can’t help but feel this is too much for you. this lavish suite is definitely worth more than your entire ranch and some.

you take off your boots by the door, getting situated in your suite. admiring the amount of closet space that’s available.

when you suddenly get a call.

“hello?” you prop the phone on your shoulder. trying your best to continue unpacking your duffel bags.

“hi! this is sarah from davidson & partners. i have you scheduled for a meeting at 1pm tomorrow, just calling to confirm.”

you roll your eyes, what a great way to get introduced to the state. 

“yes, i’ll be there.” 

“perfect, see you then!” and then she hangs up. 

you tuck your phone away, this was going to be a long trip. 

maybe you could take yourself sightseeing while you were here. trying to get the heavy feelings off your mind. 

trying to get a certain woman out of your mind.

you walk out the suite, ready to get out of this over-the -top suite when you hear a voice call out. 

“hey, neighbor!” a woman’s voice comes out light and inviting. you swivel your head to a gorgeous woman. dressed like she just stepped out of her nearest tailor shop. a gorgeous blazer and pencil skirt that fitted her perfectly.

you blink a bit before collecting yourself, walking up to her with a hand out.

“hi, nice to meet you.” you offer, she shakes your hand. warm and smooth fingers that slide into yours.

“i’m manon, have i seen you before?” she asks, presenting a charming smile, pearly white teeth and sharp eyes to pair.

“probably not, it’s my first time in california.” you reply, tucking your hand into your belt again.

“are you here to do touristy things? or would you like the inside scoop?” manon winks a bit, clearly amused by your out of state attire and look. 

you don’t miss how she’s given you at least two top to bottom scans.    

“i’m figuring it out…” you gesture aimlessly. then a thought runs through, “you recommend a place to enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“there’s an absolutely gorgeous beach not too far from here.” she grabs a quick paper from her hotel pad, jotting down the directions for you.

“thanks, manon.” you pocket the slip, “i’ll see you around.”

you give a quick wave, and she waves back too.

“buy me a drink sometime!” manon shouts before closing her hotel door.

you descend down the very fast elevator and are about to grab a ride when the valet walks up to you, keys in hand.

“hi! miss laforteza informed us you might need a car during your stay. here’s the car she requested.” he gives you a bright smile, dropping a pair of keys into your hands.

and you swivel your head to a cherry red vintage jeep wrangler. open chassis and red rims to match. 

jesus, she even remembered your dream car.

“i, thank you.” you wave the guy off and he heads back to his stand. your eyes drift to the car again, a clean exterior and interior. you give a little tire check with your boot and examine the engine.

it’s well maintained, clean oil and no sign of leaks.

she did her research, color you impressed. she even remembered the small details. your favorite scent of car freshener dangling by the mirror. you hop in the car, engine rumbling smoothly, it’s obvious this car had a good owner.

you pull off the lot and head to a beach. the wind in your hair and you can hear the seagulls cawing by the ocean. it’s a gorgeous sight, rays of sun peeking into the car. 

you gradually come to a parking spot, locking the car and tossing the keys in hand as you walk away. the beach is looking magnificent, there are some people playing beach volleyball and others still tanning. 

meanwhile, you’re in your cowgirl getup, a little too dressed for the occasion. peeling off your boots and rolling your pants far enough to keep them from getting wet.

you can feel the sand in between your toes. the sand warmed by the sun. and then you step forward, walking towards the ocean and pushing sand behind you.

the ocean is beautiful, gorgeous small waves crashing against the shore. leaving behind darker wet sand. you let the wave crash against your feet, cold ocean water as a contrast against the warm sand.

it’s definitely gorgeous out here, you can’t remember the last time you were by the ocean, maybe when you were a kid?

letting nature continue to move between your toes. water running around your legs and retreating back to the ocean.

then a dog runs past you, darting across the waters in front of you. tongue hanging out his mouth as he chases after a small rubber ball.

he catches it in his mouth and darts back to his owner. a kid no older than ten and cheering his dog on. you smile warmly at the scene unfolding. 

his dog barks loudly, awaiting another throw to which the young boy launches the ball forward.

“go, max!” you hear him shout, and the dog’s already leaped into the air, mouth open as he grabs snatches it out the air. the young boy rejoices when the dog turns around.

it reminds you of charlie, his beautiful eyes staring at you whenever you fill his bowl, or pet him right behind the ears.

maybe it’s slipped past you, maybe in this life you don’t get what you want.

instead you focus out, looking at the sun casting on the water, ripples that look like diamonds dancing on the surface. you can spot some yachts out far away, large cargo ships in the distance.

the water continues to splash against your legs, you feel at peace here. there’s nothing else but you and nature right now. 

you let your shoulders drop, the tension from having to come to california has weighed on your mind. you try to let yourself relax for a while, watching the ocean as it comes and goes.

--

“no lara, listen to me, it’s not like that.” sophia rambles on the phone, trying to grab a smoothie from her fridge.

“yeah, and how would you describe this? hollywood star sophia laforteza seen walking into davidson & partners. literally the best known divorce firm in all of california.” lara is mocking her, reading off a fake tmz headline. “maybe there’s a secret life sophia’s hiding?”

sophia rolls her eyes at the comment, “it’s going to be fine lara. i’ll be discreet.” sophia uncaps the smoothie, drinking it as her friend continues to express her worries.

“discreet isn’t exactly your style sophie.” lara laughs out. 

and sure she may be right, but sophia could be discreet, right?

“nuh uh, you’re probably trying to convince yourself you can be discreet. and the answer is no.

sophia’s jaw drops. “i can be discreet!” 

“you’re about as discreet as a peacock. now listen, what you need to do is meet her somewhere else. somewhere out the public eye.” lara shuffles a bit over the phone, and sophia sets her smoothie down.

“like where?” sophia’s waiting for a magical answer.

“somewhere like uh…what about her hotel?” lara lets it roll off her tongue and immediately sophia feels like a train crash.

“that is the worst idea i’ve heard yet. and you’ve convinced me to go to an award show hungover.” sophia laughs a bit.

“you booked the room, the chauffeur, and the car. i think you’re allowed to go inside.”

“she’s going to shoot me in between my eyes before i open the door.” sophia picks up the smoothie again, grimacing at the taste.

“no she wouldn’t! she married you.” lara explains.

“yeah, that was before she found out i had a fiancé.” sophia rolls her eyes again.

“well, pseudo-fiancé, maybe you could profess your undying love and make more babies, because this one is so darn cute!” lara coos at the toddler. “yes you are! yes you are!”

“lara please, she hates my guts, practically told me so when she ran out on me.” sophia laments. 

the feelings still burn like an open wound.

“so she hates you but you still kept her kid?” lara questions.

“i still love her, you know that.” sophia sighs out.

its quiet for a second.

“your mom is so dramatic isn’t she?” lara’s voice has gone up in pitch, playing with sophia’s kid. “yes she is! yes she is!”

sophia can hear her baby babbling and squealing in delight. “anyways, don’t meet her at the firm, paps are watching you like a hawk.”

“you don’t have to remind me.” sophia lets out with a sigh. 

there used to be a time where she could just exist, without worry of the public. but those days are long gone.

suddenly there’s rustling sounds and a loud wail from the speakers.

“uh oh, your baby just crapped her pants. say bye bye now!” sophia can hear the lara’s poor imitation just above her baby’s wails. “auntie lara signing off, go win her back!”

and then the line hangs up, sophia doesn’t even have time to say goodbye.

“fuck.” 

sophia throws her head in her hands.

--

“hello?” you’re half dressed, wearing shorts and a tank with your hair all over. still rubbing your eye as you try to sharpen enough.

“hi, good morning! it’s sarah from davidson’s, we spoke yesterday. mind if we come up? 

“huh? yeah sure, come on up.” you speak into the hotel phone. half drowsy when you look over and see 7 am flashing on the alarm clock.

you stumble a bit as you approach the door, hearing quick knocks against the door.

“coming, just one second!” 

you rush back to slide on some longer pants and head for the door, unlocking it to the sight of two very well dressed lawyers. both with polite smiles on their face.

“sorry to bother you so early, but it’s urgent.” the woman states and you let them in. 

immediately they place their briefcases on the table. taking out pens, recorders, legal pads and laptops.

behind them, two security guards walk in. they immediately begin scanning the suite. large devices that are moving up and down the rooms. they approach each window and immediately pull the blinds, covering the outside light from coming in. 

it’s like the secret service securing the west wing.

“hey, what are they doing here?” you ask, still yawning a bit.

“that’s our intel security team, we need to ensure this space isn’t tapped since we’re away from our firm. it’s standard protocol.” sarah is very direct, the smile disappears off her face as she sips on her coffee.

her counterpart is rapidly typing on his laptop, flipping through binders like a madman, but with precision behind each move.

“is this really necessary? it’s just me here.” you ask, a little perturbed at the intrusion.

“have you heard of brad and angelina, or bill and melinda? well those clients pay us, pardon my language, a shit ton of money to keep their divorces private.” sarah continues, not missing a beat as she types on her own laptop.

“it’s in our and your best interest that we follow procedures.”

“right…sorry for the offense ma’am.” you offer back.

“none taken. just doing our jobs.” she continues to drink her coffee. and suddenly the door is closed behind you, gone are the two mysterious men that stepped in.

“john, intel team left, place is clean, put that in the notes.” sarah speaks to the other lawyer, rapid typing ensuing.

“i thought we were meeting at the firm?” you ask, letting your arms hang on the back of a chair.

sarah looks away from her screen.

“mrs. laforteza requested to move up the meeting and in a discreet location, so we’re here to set up in time for her arrival.”

“here? as in this room?” you ask, the shock making you stand up taller.

“yes, this room. she’ll be here in…” sarah looks down at her watch, “15 minutes, well 14 now.”

“15 minutes?” you’re wide eyed and stunned, rushing off to the bathroom. trying to freshen up before seeing sophia again. 

you can feel your heart hammering as you brush your teeth. memories flowing through you as you wash your face. you try to calm your clammy and shaky hands.

you can still hear the hushed whispers from the lawyers, 

putting on a shirt over your head, you step out, still looking tired. but definitely more presentable than how you woke up.

you’re ready to drop your shoulders when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

shit.

you smooth your hair out once more and walk towards the door. giving a final breath and opening it.

the light from the windows illuminate sophia. she’s got a cap, sunglasses, dark clothes and no makeup in sight. 

she doesn’t look like the woman that broke your heart.

you gesture to her to walk in, not even able to greet her. she gives a nod when she walks in. immediately you smell the familiar scent of her perfume. you inhale the scent enough that make your heart beat quicker.

it pulls you in, like it always has. truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever be tired of the scent.

eyes on the ground as she walks away, trying not to show how affected you are. even without a single touch she has your insides all shaken up. 

you follow behind her, taking notice of her slow steps. like she’d rather just run out the door at a moment’s notice. 

sophia pulls a seat on the other side, dropping her purse lightly. your eyes watch her intently, like you’re tracking her. after some searching, she takes out a folder filled with documents, all tabbed with notes. you watch her separate them into piles, hand meticulous and deft.

sarah and her counterpart watch her as well.

sophia finally settles in her seat. and gives a nod to the lawyers.

“welcome to the first divorce settlement conference.” sarah starts, “we will begin recording…now.”

you watch her press a button on the recorder. the room’s feeling a bit too stuffy now. it’s really here, the dreaded divorce that you tried to put away, just like the stubborn feelings you had.

she gives you a quick glance, just enough to commit your face to memory now. your cheeks are more sunken and those dark circles spell trouble. 

in you, there’s a war against what you want and what you need. you listen to what you need. barely sparing sophia a glance, she doesn’t deserve it. in your head she didn’t deserve any of you, but in your heart…it still beat for her.

“now let’s get the structure of these meetings understood. we will be discussing property division, child support, and spousal support if applicable.” sarah continues.

“this is my colleague, who will be here for note-taking as well as shifting responsibilities as needed.”

you and sophia both give a firm nod.

“let’s start with property division. under page 2, section 5a.” sarah begins, flipping to a new section of her binder.

you both follow suit with your own copies. eyes reaching past all the legal jargon.

“the ranch in new mexico, measured at twenty acres. including livestock, house, and the barn.”

“that’s mine.” you speak up, and sophia snaps her eyes up to you, crossed arms that loosen at the sight of you.

she hasn’t heard your voice in all this time, a pained reminder of the last words you said, correction: shouted at her.

“mrs. laforteza?” sarah questions.

“that’s hers, and sophia, just sophia.” sophia replies.

“sophia, and thank you.” the lawyers are scribbling and typing in their laptops.

it’s strange how calm the room is. four people here to settle a divorce in the presidential suite of a ritz-carlton.

you grab a sip of water, watching sophia through your eye line. 

she’s a bit dazed, eyes that seem so lost. and maybe if you weren’t so heartbroken, you would offer some comfort.

“great, next is the large 1930s spanish-style mansion in the hollywood hills, measured at seven thousand square feet. 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms.” sarah continues.

your eyes nearly bulge out.

“that’s hers.” you speak up, coughing a bit as you clear your throat.

“sophia?”

“yes, that is mine.” sophia shifts her legs a bit.

you sink into your seat, this was going to be a long meeting. 

the hours continue, discussions of property grew to be extensive. you didn’t realize how much needed to be accounted for. 

as well as revealing how much money sophia had accumulated. the star was definitely well-paid. 

and you were slowly realizing how small you felt.

there was nothing comparable to the net worth of sophia laforteza. you once felt so confident and proud of your ranch, a safe haven for you both. but now you feel like maybe you weren’t a good enough provider.

maybe that’s why she left you.

you snap out of your spiral when the lawyers call for a break. giving time for a short walk and stretch. 

you do notice that sophia’s been unfocused. blank stares as the lawyers discuss among themselves.

“would anyone like room service?” you ask into the air. and the two lawyers walk over to you.

“coffee and a bagel with cream cheese please.” you scribble it down.

“would you like anything?” you turn to the other lawyer.

“also coffee, but i’ll have a muffin and apple.” you jot down their orders, and writing another line as you call room service.

room services picks up immediately at the first ring, a woman helping you get all the orders down with efficiency. 

sophia’s still in a daze, her hand slightly shaking in her lap.

you try not to notice it, especially given your now relationship with her. 

when room service arrives, you thank the server. offering a tip as he exits the room again. the lawyers are eager to have something in their stomach. 

you can imagine the hours are also taking a toll on them.

but your mind is focused on the other person in the room. you walk towards sophia with a bowl of fruit and yogurt and a glass of water in hand.

placing it down in front of her, causing her to focus again. a light gasp when she sees your face so close. 

“this is for you, i bet you haven’t had anything today.” you say softly.

it’s not supposed to mean anything, just a simple gesture. but to sophia, she feels like she could crumble.

sophia nods firmly, a bit too firmly. its like the words won’t come out her throat. like she isn’t still madly in love with you.

“excuse me for a second.” sophia makes a quick dash for the bathroom. and you watch her retreating body disappear behind the door.

both lawyers stare at the door as well, giving you a quick look before returning to their conversation.

what you don’t know is that sophia’s sobbing. crying into her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sound.

how could she ever act like she isn’t completely and utterly in love with you? how you still stir up feelings in her body that make her want to reach out to you?

how she had to give herself a ten minute pep talk in her car before stepping out.

God, she was a wreck. 

she gives herself a minute. just one. enough to pull herself together, broken sobs and pain shooting in her heart. 

you stand by the door, caught between wanting to knock and wanting to give her space.

“fia?” you ask. “you okay?”

you faintly hear it, a sob that’s trying to break out of her throat. 

“i’ll be-i’ll be out in a second!” she tries her best to sound normal. rapidly wiping tears off her face and giving herself a quick check in the mirror.

thank God for waterproof mascara. 

she looks presentable, just enough to cover the traces of her tears. with a shaky breath she moves for the door, opening it to you on the other side.

your worried eyes that look too warm, in her mind a flash of angry eyes hit her. it reminds her why she’s here. why you ran out on her with resentment in your eyes.

but you stand here, unmoving and looking into her. and she nearly breaks again, digging her nail into her thigh, trying to keep the tears at bay. long enough to get through this.

you want to ask her what’s wrong but she gives you a controlled smile. one that lets you know she doesn’t want to speak about it. and she doesn’t, instead she walks back to her chair. 

calmly sitting again and scooping yogurt into her mouth. you pull the chair next to her, resuming the silent war between both of your conflicting feelings.

the lawyers both return to their chairs. and offer each other a look when sarah speaks.

“thank you both for a productive meeting, we will meet again in two days.” 

sarah and her counterpart gather all their belongings again. tucked away neatly into their briefcases. both offering a handshake before leaving. 

you shake their hands and thank them for their time. watching them until they close the door behind them. 

then you’re left with sophia. 

you’re left with sophia.

you turn towards her, watching her pack her purse with all the documents she had laid out. she’s in a slight hurry, you can tell by the frazzled eyes and jittery hands. 

she also realizes that she’s left with you.

you stand off to the side, silently watching her. she then shifts back, pushing the chair in and she then tries walking out.

you feel yourself panic, something unsettling erupting in your stomach. 

“thanks for everything. you know, the hotel, the car, everything.” you speak quickly. “you didn’t have to.”

“you’re welcome. it’s really no problem.” sophia’s voice is shaky. 

she waits a beat. 

“it’s nice. to see you, i mean.”

and without another word she walks out the door, closing the door behind her.

you sink into yourself, feeling yourself cringe at the comment. you felt so stupid speaking up.

--

“so spill, how was it?” lara lounges on sophia’s couch, sparkly eyes as she’s trying to pry. 

sophia gives a sigh before joining her on the couch.

“it was…amicable.” sophia didn’t want to talk about how she broke down crying in your bathroom. how you reminded her of her wedding day. 

she’d rather shove all those feelings down.

instead sophia recounts, you looked familiar. too skinny in her mind. you definitely lost weight, she had hoped it wasn’t because of her.

“amicable? your wife hates your guts and she’s amicable!” lara exclaims. 

“it’s not like a movie, you know? we may be actresses but that’s not her.” sophia continues to explain.

“what about you? i bet you were shaking like a chihuahua.” lara spoke.

“i was not! i was very professional.” sophia exclaims. “she was too.”

lara groans, “that’s not fun!”

“divorce settlements aren’t meant to be fun.” sophia explains.

“not as fun as you, right?” lara lifts anna into the air, the baby squealing loudly.

“hand her to me.” sophia opens her arms, and then the baby is propped in her lap. “i saw your mama today, she’s still very pretty.”

the baby babbles a bit, “mama.”

“yes, your mama. she’s lost some weight.” sophia says gently, rocking her toddler slowly. “i’ll have to make her some sinigang.”

anna claps her hands together in excitement.

“okay, this is really sweet, but you’re making me sad.” lara speaks up, and sure sophia’s thought about it. “and i don’t get sad, so go make up with her.”

“i can’t. and you know why.” 

“fuck him! he doesn’t get to dictate your life just because his daddy’s got a big name.” lara scoffs, grabbing anna again.

sophia shakes her head. in an ideal world thomas never existed, or any kind of person like thomas. 

in her ideal life she had you, anna, and grew together. maybe had a couple anna’s with you.

but she’s dug herself in this hole, and she needs to dig herself out.

--

“mrs. laforteza, hey, it’s good to hear from you.” you dig a stick a little further in the sand. 

you stare into the sand, drawing small circles. 

“hi dear, how are you?” mrs. laforteza’s warm voice comes through the phone. 

it’s comforting. she’s like a second mom. you basically grew up in her house.

eating dinner with her, cleaning dishes, helping mr. laforteza with ranch work. it felt like you were always meant to be in this family.

“it went okay…” you drag out, thinking about your stay here. 

the divorce settlement meeting was tense, and its driven you away from the hotel. the room feeling suffocating despite how big it was. you keep feeling this unsettling feeling that something’s wrong.

something’s wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

so instead, you’ve been spending many hours outside, enjoying the summer sun. trying to find peace with life as it is, especially with the divorce coming.

“just okay? you don’t sound like someone who is okay.” she speaks.

you can hear charlie’s pants through the speakers.

“i’ll be alright, it’s really nice out here.” you look out to the ocean, squinting as you look at the rays of light. “i get why she came out here.”

“i’m sure.” 

mrs. laforteza has always been sweet, trying to be as gentle as she can. knowing that her daughter has broken your heart. “she’s trying to fly us out soon.”

“yeah you both would really like it here.”

maybe a part of you is stuck, stuck waiting for some big reveal that sophia didn’t mean to crack your heart.

you tried moving on. all the worries, pain and anguish slowly dying within you. but some days the feelings overwhelm you, and it’s like you’re back at square one.

“listen dear, you’ll always be a daughter to us, married or not.” mrs. laforteza continues and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “never forget that.”

you nod but then realize how she wouldn’t see that. 

“of course ma’am, thank you for always being there.”

“oh honey, we’ll always be here.” 

you hear charlie's yips as he chases after a ball that sophia’s dad is throwing.

“you think she meant it?” you ask into the open air.

“meant what, dear?”

“you think she meant to break my heart?” you feel like retracting the question as soon as it came out of your mouth. 

who in their right mind asks their mother-in-law this?

“i don’t think she meant to. i think she wanted to save what she could, and your heart paid the price.” you listen to the faint noise of a rocking chair as she continues.

“sometimes, i wish she never liked me back.” you say it and truly you don’t mean it. 

but it stings a little less to imagine a world where you weren’t as foolishly in love.

“honey, that girl loved you the second she laid eyes on you.” mrs. laforteza laughs out loud.

“when i saved her from those coyotes?” you let out a choked laugh at the memory.

“she came running back the ranch, screaming her head off about how you protected her and looked so cool.”

you wipe a tear from your eye. 

“what else did she say?”

“she told me she was going to marry you someday. swore on the Bible she would.” 

you still your movement. 

“did she?” you ask, your heart is blossoming in that way that your brain hates. hates how she still had you wrapped around her finger.

“sure did.”

you let the silence hang in the air. listening to seagulls and soft waves crashing against the shore. trying to think about your next steps, what life would mean for you once you’re really divorced.

suddenly a voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“hey, neighbor!” a familiar light voice comes through, you tilt your head just enough to see her. large glasses and a beach shawl covering a bikini set. she looks ready to enjoy the beach. you give a light wave to her, as she sits next to you. a large grin on her face.

“hey, it’s good to see you.” you offer, and she nods a bit, watching you, observing the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“i would say the same, but you seem a bit…what’s the word? sulky?” manon shrugs, a bit of amusement in her face as she watches you lean back in shock.

“i am not sulky!” you exclaim, hand on your heart like you’re clutching a pearl necklace.

“then what is this?” she points at your six pack of beer, a couple already popped open and empty, grabbing one to open.

“this is…leisure…” you gesture to the space around you. she gives you that look, the kind of look your friend gives you when they know you’re full of shit.

“you’re not convincing anyone with those eyes.” she points out, taking a sip of beer with you, a slight grimace at the taste. 

“what about my eyes?” you take another swig, looking back onto the shoreline, watching someone swim out.

“sad, like you have a thousand yard stare kind of sad.” she laughs to herself as she explains it. 

and really if you had to guess, maybe you do given everythings that’s been happening to you.

“i’m just…dealing with a lot.” you explain, she takes another sip of her beer, despite the taste.

“yeah? tell me about me.” she urges you on, nudging your shoulder a bit. and really life has been so down, you’re more than compelled to spill your secrets out.

“the reason i'm here,” you gesture at the area around you. “is because my wife is divorcing me. i’m here to settle the divorce.” 

and clearly that wasn’t the response manon was expecting. she’s taken aback, slowly digesting and trying to find the words to comfort you.

“wow, that’s a lot. yeah i don’t blame you for doing this.” she comments, trying her best to lend an ear. you give her a nod, thanking her just for the company. 

it’s nice to have someone who knows nothing about her past, a clean slate.

“is it her fault?” manon asks you, genuine interest in her eyes.

“i think so.” you offer. manon doesn’t press further, eyes also watching the ocean, sitting quietly together and admiring the sunset.

“well, to a clean and quick divorce!” manon lifts her glass, you lift yours too. making a light clinking sound as you both sit in silence once more.

--

this was not how sophia wanted to start her morning.

“sophia! my lovely fiancé! to what do i owe the pleasure?” his slimy voice coming through the speakers.

sophia’s already burning. a hot heat of anger spreading through her nervous system. 

a reaction to the sickly headlines funneling out of drama journals and anyone that cared remotely about sophia’s career.

“thomas. getting caught in ibiza with supermodels?” sophia bites out, her manager sitting beside her. tablet in hand as they scroll through the damning evidence.

“easy tiger…i was just celebrating my birthday. you know how those weekends go.” sophia can hear his cockiness through the phone. “which, by the way, you should’ve posted about, it’s pr 101.”

sophia wants to scream. she has not worked this hard in her career to be seen as anything less than a star in her own right.

this man is going to drag her reputation down with his.

“happy belated…but learn to cover your bases, asshole.” 

“stop acting like my mother.” his voice turns into that disgusting condescending tone. 

the one he puts on when he thinks he’s better than you. 

“more importantly, how’s the divorce settlement going?”

it grates against sophia’s ears. 

“it’s going well, don’t get into my business.” sophia scoffs.

“well, then don’t get into mine.” he retorts back. 

sophia continues to try to not curse him out. her manager looking at her in worry, all sophia can do is try to think about happy thoughts.

happy thoughts about anna or you.

he coughs a bit.

“you better attend my dad’s birthday gala next weekend.” 

she thinks about it, thinks about how she’d rather be at home with anna. but duty calls.

“fine. send over the details.”

he hangs up, sending an address and time. and sophia’s losing her mind all over again.

shouting at no one in particular about how much of a jackass thomas is. how his incessant need for the party lifestyle is going to ruin sophia’s life.

she needs a way out, and she needs it soon.

--

this wasn’t how sophia wanted to plan her evening. she wanted to be at home, a glass of wine in hand as she watches some silly tv show for the fiftieth time.

she’d play with anna and lounge outside the backyard. or have a lazy night swim.

but here she is in her long cocktail dress, a jacket adorned with pearls to match. it’s enough to stay afloat at the party, enough to be noticed, but also not stand out. 

with all the old executives and their much-too-young trophy wives on display, sophia wants to leave.

thomas has already turned on his flashy smiles at his dad’s friends. each of them giving respectable nods, just enough to acknowledge him, but not enough to respect him.

he tried parading sophia around, introducing her as his fiancé, to which many seemed disinterested. some women even looked at her in pity, but she held her head high enough.

luckily she spotted lara not too far away.

“oh thank god you’re here, these people are so boring.” lara starts, giving everyone an evil eye before smiling at sophia.

sophia feels exactly the same.

“i hate going to these. no one cares anyways.” sophia continues, and honestly her life has been feeling like that lately.

she’s still a very high profile star, but with the status comes having to attend these more than necessary events. to mingle and be amongst those that run the industry, it gets boring to a point.

“how’s anna?” lara asks, softly tilting her champagne flute around. 

that lights up sophia’s eyes.

“so cute, the babysitter just sent this photo.” and sophia shows the young toddler, sound asleep and tucked into her bed. with her mouth hanging slightly open.

“aw that munchkin, she’s so adorable.” lara coos at the photo.

“i know, yesterday she was trying to open all the kitchen cabinets.” sophia shows another photo of the young girl, wide eyed and caught by sophia’s camera.

sophia reminisces on the photos, scrolling to one that made her heart clench. 

it was a picture of a frayed photo of you and sophia, much younger and much stupider.

silly marks on each other’s faces and stickers all over your shirt. sophia’s wearing your cowboy hat and you’re wearing the pair of boots she gifted you. both seated on mr. laforteza’s truck bed.

lara gives a quick look at sophia, watching the way she pauses herself. admiring memories of her youth that she left behind.

lara looks a little closer.

“anna has her eyes.” lara points her finger down, “the way she scrunches them with her smiles. it’s just like hers.”

“really? i never noticed that.” sophia zooms in on you, the way you smile so hard that your eyes disappear. 

anna does the same whenever she’s finished with her food, or accidentally knocks over a cup of milk.

sophia feels like she could throw up at the fact. 

she’s been trying so hard to keep the memories of you alive in anna’s life. showing her old photos that she stole from the ranch house. reminding her of her other parent.

enough to make anna realize that you are indeed her mama. and sometimes sophia thinks she can recognize you, or maybe she’s just repeating the words back.

when really you always existed in anna.

“i think you should tell her about anna.” it’s not accusatory or said without knowing the context between you two. 

lara had been the first friend sophia made when coming to california. two girls with dreams in their heads and hopes in their hearts. to “make it” out here in hollywood. discussing their dreams and deepest fears of what makes them human. bonding over that shared desire for greater.

so really, lara understood her. understood how the fear of rejection from you would break sophia all over again. 

she saw it firsthand when sophia returned to california. she wasn’t the same, barely was able to pull herself long enough to go outside. 

and when sophia first got her morning sickness, lara was the one waiting in the bathroom with her. waiting for the pregnancy tests together.

“i want‐i want to. but i’m scared. i’m scared she’ll realize that she wants nothing to do with me or anna.” 

sophia speaks truthfully, it broke everything in her when you told her to leave. she had never seen you so angry and upset, like a caged deer, trying so hard to escape. 

she couldn't bear to hear how you don’t want her anymore. her heart would crack open again.

and what if you didn’t want to be involved in anna’s life?

“but what if she did? anna deserves a chance to know her.” lara continues, a sad warm smile on her face. “they both deserve the chance to be in each other’s life.”

it’s not like sophia hadn’t contemplated this before. each prenatal visit making her cry all over again. the ultrasounds, the first heartbeat, even the delivery.

she wished you would just burst through the doors, rushed comments about traffic running late and hold her hand as she went through this scary pregnancy. comforting words and soft affection as she went through the trimesters.

she wouldn’t trade anything for anna. she just wish you were here to experience it with her.

lara lets the topic go, it’s hard to see her closest friend so caught in between worlds. so much of her life she sacrificed and only to be left unsatisfied. it’s heartbreaking, and she hopes sophia will get her happiness back.

to much of the dismay of sophia, thomas’s father began speaking. welcoming all the guests through loudspeakers in his mansion. attracting the attention of all guests, but sophia’s heard this speech at every previous party before. how he owes all his accomplishments to a very special mentor of his. and then he gives that short anecdote about being a young and bright-eyed filmmaker. hoping to get his projects out into the world.

with a slight tug of her arm, lara pulls her away from the crowd, all entranced by the story.

“he’ll probably go on for another hour, come on, let’s go see if there’s some good liquor.” lara smirks. dragging sophia away from the main room, soon they’re walking across marbled flooring. large doors leading into the big pool out back, fountains pouring into the pool.

lara eventually pulls them into a large room. large dark oak bookshelves lining the back wall. each filled with hard covered books lining each shelve. a single lamp illuminating the room. large arabian carpets covering the floor. a heavy wooden desk sat close to the bookshelves. a fit study room for a world-renowned director.

“this camera probably costs more than a house.” lara points out the giant standing camera in the other corner of the room, and sophia would agree. 

it drives her insane how much of thomas’ life was just handed to him, the opulence, the trust fund, all of it simply because he was born into the family. sometimes sophia wished thomas never existed. didn’t use his unlimited power for evil, to manipulate and control the weak.

“shit, sophia. come look at this.” sophia walks towards lara, finding her looking at an open drawer, a manila folder already opened on the table. “S.L.” in bold letters stamped on the front.

images spill out from the manila folder, each one from different events that sophia has attended. either red carpets or pictures from her acting. it’s haunting, it’s like she’s being watched. 

and then it gets worse. 

there’s photos of her child, anna running around in sophia’s backyard. photos of sophia lifting her kid in the air and spinning her around. it makes sophia sick to her stomach. 

“lara, lara…” sophia turns to lara with tears in her eyes, shock making her ears pop and tinnitus ringing. her blood has run cold and so has her body, a slight shaking as she steps away from the table, away from the contents of her private life being captured.

“sophia, it’s okay, come on focus on me.” lara’s trying to stabilize a very lost sophia, her eyes keep darting everywhere. there’s thoughts flowing faster than water down an edge of a cliff.

“he knows. he knows anna.” sophia can feel her breath getting shorter, it’s harder to breath in deeper without feeling like she’ll hyperventilate. and lara’s trying her best to calm her down. but fuck if this isn’t a slap in the face.

she tried so hard to protect anna, going as far as to disappear to give birth. not even letting thomas near her or to see her. it was her way of protecting anna and protecting you.

“what else is in there? i bet that jackass has other dirt on me.” sophia asks through harder breaths. the sudden shock and stress is constricting her airways. 

lara’s searching through the folder, eventually dumping it all out on the table. and out flys two contracts.

“it’s your acting contract.” lara’s quickly reading through it, familiar clauses from her very own. the clauses of work, management, pr image, conditions of pay. all of it laid out and then lara lands on a tab. highlighted in orange and circled in red pen. conditions of pr image and the ability for the company to manage sophia’s pr image if it were to slip into a scandal. and possible pr management rights reserved for the company. 

“hold on…” lara flips through the rest of the contract, finding nothing else out of the ordinary. “something’s not right.”

sophia’s holding onto the edge of the hardwood desk, trying to count to four in her head during each breath, slowly bringing down her heart rate. she can barely hear lara through the ringing. 

“did you know about this?” lara looks at sophia, another contract in hand. 

“what?” sophia barely gets out, straightening herself when lara is breezing through the contract.

“it’s thomas. the trust. the inheritance. all of it.” lara continues to read through the pages, eyes moving left and right. “sophia. his father’s trust! the marriage, it’s all for inheritance.” 

lara turns the page over to sophia, and even with her half breaths she can see the clauses: public-facing equal, married by 30 years of age, inheritance. 

all of it is slowly piecing together. the urgency for the divorce, the sudden interest in sophia’s career. the manipulation and coercion of marriage was all to guarantee the inheritance of his father’s net worth. eventually he would secure his position to acquire his father’s businesses. 

how could sophia be so stupid?

all because of a stupid clause that sophia signed when she was still a bright-eyed actress hoping to land her first big role in hollywood. only because she didn’t hire a lawyer to read the fine print of all the clauses in her contract. 

it had cost her autonomy and the disrepair of her relationship with you. and if sophia had to guess, he was going to drag anna into it too. some sick leverage to get this marriage on the fast-track to secure his position.

all because she signed to a slimy acting agency run by thomas’ father. and all because thomas got his hands on her acting contract.

“i’m going to strangle him lara.” sophia gets out her phone, taking photos of the contract. every single photo or page in the manila folder all documented now in her phone.

“sophie, let’s be smart about this okay?” lara starts, already taking photos of her own as a backup. “we need a way out, we have to do this smart and quick.” 

sophia nods.

“you have dirt on him right now, this contract, the coercion of marriage, his scandals. you know all about it.”

lara continues, thinking about how to use this to their advantage.

sophia continues to read over the inheritance, all of it is so obvious, thomas is after his dad’s assets. in an attempt to secure his position over his brother. he’s using sophia as a chess piece for his plan to take over. a coup.

“leak it.”

lara speaks up suddenly. her eyes are deep in thought, she keeps flipping through all the evidence. “leak it anonymously.”

“what?” sophia stops, confusion in her eyes as she looks at lara.

“make it an exposé, if his dad found out that thomas never went to rehab. and spent his money partying. dragging one of the biggest stars of hollywood into a coercive marriage. that would spell the end for thomas moore. he’d never be let out of his dad’s grasp again.”

lara begins texting people in her phone, a plan to drop pieces of evidence all over the next couple of days. a sudden exposé piece would send thomas into hiding. 

“what if it backfires, lara? i can’t lose her or anna.” sophia panics, still worried about how this will all blow up in her face.

“we have a way out.” lara is confident, a large smile on her face, even if it was the last thing she could do, she would help sophia no matter what. “he’s tormented you for years sophie, the manipulation, the controlling. he took you away from her. he did this.” 

lara points at the pictures, the acting contract.

“we’re going to make him suffer. you tell me to leak it and i’ll spread it like wildfire, okay sophie?”

sophia nods firmly, and breathes out for the first time. a breath of relief.

a breath of freedom.

--

you’re dressed more properly today, in a way it’s to not feel so awful all the time. the long walks along the beach have been helping keep your feelings in tact.

it’s been several divorce settlement meetings and you’ve been realizing just how complex sophia’s life is. between all the assets and bank accounts, and royalties from her acting career. 

you’ve been feeling conflicted, a lost sense of what it means to be a partner to her. or at least what it meant before. 

you weren’t there when she made these accomplishments and you can’t understand why you still want to be in her life. 

it’s a feeling that’s haunted you since the moment she disappeared from your life. maybe there’s something you lacked for her to turn to someone else.

maybe you pushed her into the arms of that man.

sometimes you dream about him, about him burning your ranch down. or standing outside your ranch watching you as you work. his nasty grin on full display. 

you usually wake up in cold sweat and reach out for sophia, trying to protect her. but she’s never there. and reality sinks in all over again.

there were days you could barely get out to do the daily chores, sluggish movement as you tried mending your broken heart a second time. 

it’s no use though, you were used and replaced by someone who probably had more wealth than you could imagine.

so you sit a little clouded by your own thoughts, going through these meetings as robotically as possible.

limiting as much as you could, to remove the emotions out of these meetings. you need this divorce to be done, to never return or hear of sophia again.

sophia wasn’t coping much better, after learning about thomas’ motives to move forward with this divorce. it’s been hard for her to focus at the task at hand. 

just yesterday she burned her hand trying to cook breakfast for her and anna. it reminded her how much of her life was in pain. the controlled aspect of her public image made her want to vomit.

and she’s sat beside you, both of you trying to answer the mediators questions. a hurdle that both of you are struggling with. 

throughout the questioning, at multiple times, the lawyers have asked for a break to reconvene with more focus. 

all it has done is caused more stilled awkwardness between you and sophia. silently sitting together, but unable to look at each other.

it feels like detention, that you both were “willingly” sat in.

and then suddenly, like a glass falling off a countertop, sarah begins again.

“let’s discuss custody and visitation rights…” sarah reads out to the pair. 

her counterpart taking a sip of his cold coffee, a displeased frown on his face.

“on page six, the primary custodial rights of the minor child, would still be under miss laforteza’s legal guardianship until the child reaches 18 years old. in which they are legally an adult. currently, with non-disclosure terms applying to the identity of the other parent…” sarah continues reading down the page.

sophia eyes sharpen again.

“i’m sorry–what did you say?” you snap out of your haze. 

“wait–sarah, wait…what?” sophia stands up straighter, hand immediately reaching out for the paper, rapidly flying to page six. eyes furious as she searches for the words.

“whose child?” you ask sarah, also grabbing onto the paper again.

what the hell?

“this wasn’t…this wasn’t in the draft i sent in.” sophia drops the paper back down. it’s there, in the fine print of the divorce papers. 

“you have a child?” the way you ask is chilly, like you’ve audibly flinched back. electrified adrenaline shooting through you.

“give us a minute…” the lawyers both quickly review their materials. rapid typing from sarah’s counterpart and sarah looks confused as well, rereading the section that she just read aloud.

sophia’s voice is stuck in her throat, a sound coming out but it cracks in the end. she watches you scoot back, chair moving along with you.

“i was–i promise i was going to tell you about her, i was going to–” sophia reaches out, hand trying to grab yours. 

but you flinch back, hand flying behind you, shock and the slow rise of anger coming back.

the exact anger you felt when you found out about thomas.

“fuck. you–you always do this sophia. you always fucking do this.” you step back, chair hitting the marbled floor. 

and both lawyers stand up. immediately packing their stuff up. 

“you never tell me what’s going on. seriously a child? a fucking child?”

sophia gets up out of her seat. 

“is it even mine?” you bite out angrily, a suddenly thought making its sickly appearance. you couldn’t stand the idea that sophia would have anyone else’s kid. 

“don't do that! of course she’s yours. i’m not some–it’s yours okay.” the pain is sharp in your heart. you hate that you’re always the last to hear about anything. 

so a small part of you wants to hurt back. how you want her to feel an ounce of your pain.

“how are you so sure it’s mine?” the pain’s making you say things you would never say to sophia. “it could be your fiancé’s, you know?”

sophia’s hand flies out, slapping you across the face. angry tears at the accusation. the sound echoing against the walls. 

your head stays stuck, realizing how much the words hurt her, but really they hurt you too.

“i would never. never! never raise that bastard’s child.” sophia says it with finality. the kind that shuts you up and lets you know not to press further. “so don’t you dare insinuate…”

the lawyers are quick to leave, sending sophia a look that expresses that they’ll talk later. 

you’re glad because you’d rather have this conversation in private.

you finally sit back down, pulling the fallen chair up. and with that, sophia sits down too. 

both of you facing each other for the first time in a long time. but she can’t hold your gaze, repeatedly looking away to hide the anguish that’s creeping up.

she’s trying to wipe away her tears, not wanting to show how your words tore through her. and you’ve sunken into the chair, the exhaustion released from your shoulders.

it smacks you again, the reality of your life.

“we have a daughter?” you ask, feeling the anger being drowned out by the fact that you have a kid now.

“we do.” sophia cries a bit, this wasn’t how she wanted to introduce anna to you. and she certainly didn’t plan it either.

sophia could only think of one person who would try and ruin her like this. the same man that tormented her life, forced her to get this divorce. pulled her abruptly from you, only to carry your child all alone.

both of you continue to sit, waiting for the other to speak up. and it’s killer, the silence that’s waiting.

so you speak up first.

“is she healthy? i know my dad had some issues when he was a kid. and my mom too–” you begin to ramble, spilling all your worries.

“she’s healthy, don’t worry.” and sophia cracks a small smile when you do too. 

“that’s really good, yeah that’s good. um…can i see her?” 

you ask, realizing all that you ever wanted with sophia was actualized, not just a dream that you kept to yourself. in the most sick way, you now have a child.

its not the full dream of having a big family with sophia, but you have a daughter.

more specifically, you have a daughter with sophia. 

with tears in her eyes, sophia agrees to have you come over. to see the young toddler that had your eyes and sophia’s temperament. 

you felt like a part of you had returned, some part of you wasn’t a complete fuckup of your own life.

and sophia spent hours, talking about anna. every detail she thought she could share, she did. how much she enjoyed eating grapes and would scream at the top of her lungs for fun. sophia even showed you photos of her.

she looked happy, a bright wide smile in each photo. when sophia talked about the pregnancy, you felt like you could cry. all the milestones that you missed. especially when you realized sophia went through it alone, none of thomas’ support or presence. 

it hurt to hear how painful it all was for sophia, the hormone changes in her body. the way she felt about herself after the delivery. you wanted to be by her side, a shoulder to cry on as you both navigated having a child together.

so you both cried, you cried asking about her, and she cried listening to you describe how it feels to hear this all for the first time. 

how you dreamed of having a family with her. all along it was there, and she wanted the exact same.

as the night rose, you realized how late it had become. making plans to see anna the next afternoon.

before she left, sophia handed you a photo of anna as a keepsake.

the drive was somber, all you could do was replay the long conversation you had with sophia. there were bits and pieces that stuck with you, how proudly she spoke about having your child. how anna had the mischievous side of you. and the clever side of sophia.

you listened to her talk and even ordered room service for you two.

it was…nice.

almost like you two hadn’t torn each other to shreds many years ago.

it felt familiar, in a distant kind of way. 

you still want to hide how happy you were when sophia agreed to stay for dinner. she doesn’t deserve to know that. your heart was still in pieces, and one dinner wouldn’t change that fact.

but as you drifted off, you tried to wipe the smile off your face. 

truth is, you fail. you fail miserably.

--

this wasn’t how you planned on meeting your firstborn. you hoped it would be when she was born, still crying and wailing at the first introduction to the world. in a swaddle and tiny hands that would try to thrash around.

but instead you stood outside a large metal gate. a large bag in hand as you tried calming your nerves. 

you buzzed yourself in with the gate code, taking a slow look at the house that was supposedly sophia’s.

perfectly shaped hedges and large bed for flowers out front. large slabs of stone crossing the grass. you step forward towards the house. still a little weary of yourself.

maybe you have the wrong house.

you tuck your hat a little lower, feeling a bit self-conscious as you walk forward. cowboy boots clicking against the large slab stones. eventually you knock on the huge square door.

it opens into what could be described in architectural digest’s showroom mansions. large abstract paintings pinned on the walls. a flowing screen of water trickling. an ornate chandelier hanging high up.

there’s a quietness about this life. a different setting but the familiar quiet of living on a ranch. 

you continue to walk through the front, walking into a long extended room. seeing a large red conversation pit in front of you, a rather unusual vase shadowed by flowers placed in the center. 

and to your right is the kitchen, where sophia and another woman stand. both talking to each other animatedly. 

you give a light cough, to which sophia instantly turns to you. eyes going wide when she spots you.

“hi, you’re early.” sophia lets out, she still had another half hour before you were supposed to arrive. 

but instead you stand in her mansion looking as gorgeous as the first day her eyes found yours. 

cowgirl ensemble and her favorite hat of yours to pair.

“didn’t want to be late.” you explain.

lara eventually turns to you, seeing you for the first time. 

all she’s heard about you has been through sophia, and yeah lara means this in the most respectful way possible. 

but she understands why sophia is so crazy about you.

you step closer to them, the familiar clicking of cowboy heels against the floors. you stop on the other side of the counter.

“i really didn’t want to make a bad first impression.” you say placing the bag onto the table. also taking your hat off, placing it on the table.

you look at lara. “and you are?”

“i’m lara, sophia’s bestie.” lara gives a big smile, and you return one too. 

it strikes lara again, how much anna really looks like you. the same eyes that she’s seen when babysitting.

“nice to meet you lara. i’m-” you take off your hat, placing it onto the table, and extending your hand.

“don’t worry, i know and have heard a lot about you.” she gives a knowing smile as she shakes your hand.

sophia rolls her eyes at the smile.

you try looking around for a young toddler, eyes scanning around, but it lands on nothing. 

sophia starts, moving away from the kitchen. “i’ll go get her. stay here.”

“no, let me, you two should catch up.” lara winks at sophia before disappearing into the house. 

and you’re again, left with sophia.

“so i uh, went out and bought some toys.” you start, rummaging through your bag. “but i realized i don’t know what she’d like…so i kind of bought everything.”

you scratch your head a bit. realizing how dumb you looked with a toy from each aisle of the store.

sophia stares at the gesture fondly, looking at all the dolls and books you bought. enough to fill an entire shelf. 

it’s like you’re santa.

“thank you, you really didn’t have to.” sophia rounds the counter, standing close enough for you to inhale her perfume. 

you blink a bit before focusing again.

she sits down in a barstool, and you do the same.

“it’s nothing, i’m happy to.” you say smiling at sophia. you want to reach out and rub her cheek, but the sudden reminder of your reality keeps that urge down.

“how are ya, fia?” you let the nickname drop, you don’t even notice it but she does.

“i’m tired, but i’m happy you’re here.” and sophia means every word of it. 

you try not to let it, but the words blossom in your heart, a familiar kind of bliss from just being around her.

she’s happy to have you in her orbit even in the circumstances. 

you feel the same way, you’re more convinced that there’s more sophia’s not telling you. what other hidden mysterious could she be hiding from you?

“how about you? enjoying california?” sophia asks.

you think about your time here, it’s definitely different from new mexico. there’s more movement around, the beach is really nice. you’ve been swimming most days or taking long walks on the beach.

“it’s really nice out here, i can see why you came.” you didn’t want to make it feel like she chose california over you.

“yeah, it’s a beautiful state.” sophia thinks about how different life is for you back home.

suddenly a voice hits your ears.

“mommy!” a young girl squirms in lara’s arms. trying her best to reach sophia. and with quick steps, sophia eventually grabs a hold of anna. 

you watch the interaction in slow motion, your shoulders tensing when you realize this is real.

you spent the whole car ride over shaking your foot or biting your nail. to say you were excited and nervous is an understatement.

as sophia’s cuddling her a bit, the toddler’s eyes spot you. and she watches you, a sudden interest in your face.

you’re looking at your own daughter. and God, she reminds you of sophia when you were both younger. she’s got sophia’s long hair, but she has your eyes. 

she has your eyes.

it brings tears to your eyes, and you nearly have to step away so you can cry. but instead anna puts her arms out begging you to hold her.

and you do, with shaky arms. she sits comfortably on your side, looking up at you. small strong hands that pull at your shirt.

“hi there.” you say softly. and lara’s standing there taking photos of you three. sophia’s hands are shaking too. scared to let this moment disappear from her grasp.

anna continues exploring you, hand reaching up to pull at your face. letting your skin snap back when she lets go.

“mama!”

anna slaps her hands against your chest, happily clapping to herself and sophia gasps. her smart girl recognized you, from all the photos and stories she’s told her.

“mama? yeah, i’m your mama.” you cry out, tears falling down your face. you wipe them away with your sleeve. anna seeing you cry makes her cry too. 

“no no, please don’t cry, these are happy tears.” you try to wipe away your daughter’s tears.

lips still trembling as you held her tighter. she stops crying when you wipe her tears away too. leaning into you with a soft smile on her face.

“oh my God. this is really cute, but i have to go. it was lovely meeting you, let’s all have brunch sometime soon!” lara whispers to you, grabbing her purse and giving a hug to sophia before leaving.

“lovely to meet you too, lara.” you wave to her, and anna waves too. her hand shaking as she waves away.

“sophia i–she’s real.” you gasp, feeling the toddler mess with the pockets of your shirt.

“she is. want to play with her while i make her a snack?” sophia smiles fondly at you holding onto anna’s hand.

“yeah of course.” 

so you set the toddler down. grabbing each toy that you bought and shaking it in front of her. she seems mildly intrigued by each until you hold out a toy horse in front of her.

she grabs it with interest, immediately trying to bite it, but you pull it away quick enough before she bites down.

instead you show her how to walk the horse on the counter. you start putting other horses down for her. she continues to knock them into each other, much to your dismay.

“she loves horses. i wonder where she got that from?” sophia says teasingly, continuing to place grapes in a small cup. 

“hm, must be you?” you joke back.

you laugh a bit when sophia doesn’t respond. continuing to knock into horses with anna. 

“one time i took her to a carousel and she begged to get on the horse.” sophia continues, and you can imagine the scene. thinking fondly of the two.

“that’s my girl.” you say confidently, “oh i have a gift.” you grab your bag.

taking out a kid’s sized cowboy hat and fitting it onto anna’s head. it’s still too big for her and she gets completely covered by it.

“she’ll grow into it.” you say to sophia, taking it off the kid. the kid laughs a bit at the hat, putting it back on as she continues to play with the horses.

suddenly a thought hits you, and before you can control it, the words come tumbling out. you don’t mean to ask it, at least not in front of anna.

“would you have told me about her?” 

sophia stills, stopping her movements as she look at you, with all the sincerity in her eyes, she answers you.

“yes, i just didn’t want it to come out like that.” she refers to the divorce settlement meetings. “you deserved to know her.”

you nod along, a solemn expression painting the pain of not knowing your own daughter. you wanted to be there for all of it, the good and the bad. 

even for sophia. 

maybe you were still hopelessly in love with her. but now that there’s a child involved, things have shifted.

“i’m sorry for the things i said to you. what i implied, i didn’t mean it.” you say to her. gently adjusting the hat on anna’s head. “i was…angry, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

she takes a minute to absorb your apology, quietly moving through the kitchen.

“thank you, and i’m sorry too for everything.” sophia puts a juice box on the plate.

you also take a second to acknowledge her apology, it’s been hard grappling how sophia truly feels about you. whether she means everything she’s done to you.

for now you’ll accept whatever this is. but in you there’s still a very cautious and injured animal. cowering in fear that if you let her in again, she’ll ruin you. 

you grab anna, walking across the kitchen. putting her into a high chair. she pays it no mind as she continues playing with the plastic horse in her hand.

anna continues to mess with the horse, setting it down when she sees her plate of food. slowly eating it as you and sophia both watched.

“thanks for inviting me over.” you look at her, a genuine smile that refuses to leave. 

“of course.” sophia walks to the fridge, opening the door and scanning for beverages. “want something to drink?”

you walk right up behind her, enough to hover but not enough to touch her. she can feel your body heat radiating off.

“water would be good.” you reach into the fridge, grabbing a bottle and stepping back. sophia’s closes her eyes for a couple seconds. feeling a bit flushed at the sudden closeness. 

almost wishes you never moved away. and she turns to look at you, with something behind those eyes, you can’t quite place.

you want to ask her what’s going on. but then she walks away, back to the stove. you close the fridge, trying to shake off that moment.

you take a sip of water and return back to anna’s side. watching her happily eat some animal crackers. a smile erupting when you make silly faces at her.

anna pulls her arms up, begging you to hold her again. you lift her up and hold her on your hip. moving into the kitchen again, standing right next to sophia.

“mm, the famous laforteza sinigang?” you dip your head down, smelling the delicious soup. a familiar scent wafting into your nose.

smells like home.

“yeah, family recipe.” sophia continues stirring the pot every so often.

“smells good,” you say cheekily, and sophia grabs a spoon, cooling it down for you. and then spoons some to you. “and it tastes even better.”

you grab another spoonful and shovel it into your mouth.

“i’m going to miss your cooking.”

“yeah…want to stay for dinner?” sophia asks.

and its a step out. a step out of her comfort zone, an extending hand hoping that you take it.

she really hopes you take her up on the offer.

“that would be lovely.” you reply back, a small smile on your face when sophia’s eyes light up.

you continue to play with anna throughout the afternoon. she liked crashing horses into each other and running around the sofa. all of which would tire you out.

but she kept giggling and ran, so you had to run after her. eventually she settled for a nap, you tucked her in, a small blanket covering her as she slept on the couch.

“she’s out.” you speak up, getting up from the couch. walking towards sophia, and God. maybe the world is blessing her, because now you’re standing inside her home. 

“dinner is ready?” you ask.

she focuses again, nodding as you walk towards her cabinets. grabbing two bowls and utensils, passing them to sophia. 

she fills the bowls with some rice, passing them back to you. you set them on the dinner table, sophia grabs her small pot of sinigang. placing it to the next of you, you grab her plate, filling it with the delicious soup, doing the same for you.

“shall we say grace?” sophia began, sliding her hand over and you took it. 

a spark of electricity at the slight touch, you instantly flinch back a bit. before sliding your hand into hers again.

“dear heavenly father, we thank you for the food that we are about to eat. we ask that you would look protect us and guide us along your path. in jesus’ name, amen.”

“amen.” you say quietly, removing your hand. albeit a bit too quickly for sophia’s liking.

as you begin eating sophia’s sinigang, you think about what it would mean to be in anna’s life. how you could be an active parent despite living in a different state. 

it doesn’t seem feasible, having to travel back and forth to visit anna. and with a lack of reason to stay in new mexico, you suddenly erupt with an idea.

“i’m going to move here.” you say calmly, and sophia stops her spoon. lifting her head to look at you. 

“you’re moving here? like hollywood?” she asks, a little shocked at the sudden interest. 

as far as sophia could remember, new mexico was your home and you were content to live the rest of your life on that ranch.

“not hollywood per se, but definitely close by.” you gesture around, feeling your resolve continue to harden. 

“wow, this is a big move. what uh made you decide that?” sophia squirms in her seat a bit, watching you with purpose. a very secret part of her hopes you say it’s because of her and anna.

“i want to be in anna’s life, actively. traveling back and forth would be too difficult.” you look towards your daughter. who is still happily turning and twisting her horse. a delighted smile on her face.

sophia takes her time to reply, taking another sip of soup before leaning back in her chair. hands shuffling as she thinks of a thoughtful response.

“what about charlie? the horses? the chickens?” sophia asks.

she’s elated to hear that you want to be in anna’s life. it’s more than what she asked for, and to be a consistent part of anna’s life would be terrific. 

“i’m planning on buying a ranch out here. i’ll bring charlie, the horses, everything.” you explain. 

it was an idea that popped into your head earlier, a realization that you wanted your life near anna…and sophia. to still have your lifestyle, but be able to visit often and go out to the beach.

“you sure?” sophia continues to eat her food, and you return back to your bowl. feeling a sense of purpose surging through you, instead of aimless days without a direction, you could be a present parent.

“yeah, i’ve decided. and you know me, once i’ve decided it’s set in stone.” you give her a big grin, looking at her briefly. her eyes searching for something deeper, when a grin also appears on her face.

“well then, if your heart is set on it, then no one can stop you.” she explains.

“i’m going to be a cowgirl out here in california, who would have thought?” you grin continues to expand.

sophia rolls her eyes at that, but she can’t deny that deep down she’d love for you to be closer to her.

“don’t go too crazy now.” sophia comments, filling your empty plate with more soup, to which you happily eat more of. nearly emptying the bowl in less than thirty seconds.

to which she offers another filling.

“do they have rodeos out here? we should take anna when she gets older.” you comment. 

sophia doesn’t mistake the use of ‘we’ when you asked.

“yes, there’s some big ones out here, you’d be surprised.” she says, standing up to pick anna out of her high chair.

“hi cutie, want to sit with us?” sophia walks back over, anna perched on her lap when she sits back down. immediately her baby hands are trying to grab sophia’s bowl of food. hunger in her eyes.

“well, she’s definitely yours.” sophia nods at her kid, still trying to reach her small arms for the bowl, frustrated when sophia sits back. “your mom told me you used to do that as a baby. even threw a couple tantrums.”

sophia giggles to herself, seeing you fluster, the embarrassment rising your neck.

“whatever…” you drag out. a definitely big smile still plastered on your face as you watched your daughter try to struggle out of sophia’s grasp.

you think you could get used to this life, a life with anna and sophia.

‐‐

you continue to toss the keys in your hand as you hum along to a song you heard on the radio. the day has been long gone, and now the night is coming to a close too. after spending nearly all afternoon and dinner with sophia and anna, you’ve come to a couple conclusions.

you were definitely still in love with sophia, even if the world were to flip upside down tomorrow, those feelings would never dim.

you didn’t want a divorce, not now, not yesterday, not tomorrow.

you were going to be the best parent you could be.

it wasn’t something that you were happy to announce, considering sophia still had her fiancé. the same one that she conveniently doesn’t talk about. and honestly you aren’t too sure why.

you both have skirted the conversation about him in her life. as far as you knew, that was a person she willingly agreed to marry, she had no reason to state otherwise. but she still kept your kid?

that made everything more confusing. the lack of thomas in her life. every meeting that’s been had, every inch of sophia’s life wouldn’t lead one to believe that she’s happily engaged.

there are no photos of him in her home, even when you went poking in her bathroom, there was no sign of someone else that lived here. it’s unsettling…

you don’t know how to bring it up to her.

like hey, so what about your fiancé that you happen to be cheating on me with, but also you’re technically cheating on him with me?

there was something still lost in the grand picture, he didn’t fit into sophia or anna’s life. something’s not right, and you need to get to the bottom of it, before you lose your wife for good.

these thoughts continue to consume you, so much so you barely recognize the voice that’s calling out to you from the hotel lounge.

“hey neighbor!” and in front of you is manon, wide smile and a long dress to match. you quickly stop yourself before crashing into her. taking a step back before giving her a smile too.

“hey, how have you been?” you ask, subtly noticing the get-up. clearly she’s had a night out, a fancy one.

“i’m okay, came back from a failed date.” she points at herself, a small clutch in hand and sparkly earrings that dangle under her long curly hair.

“ouch, his fault?” you ask. both of you walk towards the bar, pulling her chair out and pushing her in. as you sit next to her.

“her fault, actually.” manon says confidently. you flag a bartender down to order two martinis. “she kept talking about herself all night, didn’t ask me a single question.”

you wince a bit, feeling sympathetic towards manon’s shitty night. the bartender slides over the drinks and you immediately take a sip.

“sorry for assuming, and that’s got to suck. you even dressed up so nicely!” you explain, taking a sip and listening to manon continue to complain.

“no harm no foul, most people don’t know i date women.” she explains, placing her clutch onto the bar counter. “and look! i even pulled my favorite dress out.”

she points at herself, and you can’t deny, it does look very good on her. form fitting and silver accents along the neckline. anyone would struggle to keep their eyes off her on a date.

“sorry to hear that, she wasn’t worth your time.” you continue to sip on your drink as she replays the story to you. telling you how it was doomed from the start, the lack of chivalry, the messy eating, the self-centered monologue, all of which made manon wish she was curled up in her hotel room, watching shitty rom-coms instead.

by then you two have had more than a couple drinks, and you can tell it’s definitely affecting manon more than you. her speech is a little slurred. her eyes are a bit unfocused, and her hands keep reaching out to touch your knee.

you’re not uncomfortable per se, but it definitely strikes you how forward manon is. batting her lashes and listening to you intently talk. almost as if she’s lost in a vision of you.

“alright, clearly you’ve had your fill. let’s get you to your room.” you grab a dizzy manon out of her chair, tucking her clutch under your arm. instantly she pulls all her weight onto you, you brace yourself, almost tipping over.

“sorry, had a bit too much.” manon giggles to herself, and you try your best to counter the weight. having her lean into your arms as you both walk away from the bar. slow steps as she continues to giggle to herself. 

you don’t notice it, not with how hard you’re trying to keep manon upright. the weight of her body trying to make you tip over.

but sophia’s here. she’s here and she’s shaking. in her hand is the cowboy hat you left in her house. 

she had found it when cleaning up the kitchen, hoping to see you again. so she drove over, a smile all over her face as she sang all the songs on the radio.

but now, no. no she’s furious. there’s an unnamed woman hanging off your arm. clearly interested with the way she’s hanging onto you like she was oh so weak.

fucking bullshit.

sophia’s pulled that move on you long before this woman even breathed in your direction. she’s gripping onto your cowboy hat with jealousy brimming in her heart.

and she might just snap. she’s going to snap this woman in half if she doesn’t get her hands off her wife. 

you are none the wiser, walking manon into the elevator and selecting the top floor. stepping back and begging the elevator to fly up, the doors are closing when suddenly in steps another woman.

sophia.

her eyes are filled with rage as she stares at manon next to you. 

“sophia! what are you doing here?”

you’re more than shocked to see her, she’s never come to visit you unless it was to discuss the divorce. and here she was standing in an elevator with you and a drunk manon going up to the top floor.

she stops her glaring long enough to focus on you. hat in hand that she slides back onto your head. “you left this. at my place.” 

she goes back to glaring at the other woman. and manon’s seeming to get the hint, even in her drunk state. pulling away from your arm a bit. and sophia can see it in her eyes, the recognition of her face. she knows exactly who sophia laforteza is.

“and who might you be?” sophia asks, it’s neither friendly not mean. but it’s definitely not kind. 

“i’m manon, living next door.” she gestures to you, eyes more alert as sophia tries to subtly put distance between you two. stepping in far enough that you back into your corner.

“i see.” sophia eyes her more, satisfied that the woman’s stepped away from you. and even more satisfied that her hand is off of you.

the elevator can’t go fast enough with the tense energy in the air. sophia takes a moment to situate herself, happy to have kept her away.

the elevator dings and all three of you walk out. and manon’s really drunk, because she nearly trips over herself, almost falling on the floor.

you reach out quickly, scooping her up before she fell. and with a few adjustments she’s back onto her feet.

“are you okay?” you ask, manon nods a bit trying her best to stabilize herself.

and sophia, well she’s watching like a hawk. ready to swoop in the second manon gets too close.

you walk manon to her room quickly, opening the door and setting her down on a chair. and sophia’s not exactly happy at the sight. it should be her being taken home by you, you keeping her upright if she was too wobbly. this kind of chivalry was supposed to be reserved for her. 

she shakes her head unhappily.

and with a quick nod from manon that she was all good, you bid her goodnight, walking away with sophia in tow. 

sophia gives manon a quick look over her shoulder before the door closed. and walks right after you, all the way into your hotel room. she thinks long and hard, about the next words she’s going to say to you, because really…these emotions have been erupting in her all day.

she walks in after you, closing the door behind her.

but she settles on these next words carefully, eyes wild and hair even wilder. 

“are you fucking her?” sophia enunciates every syllable, she always did this whenever she got serious. wanted to make it obvious what she’s asking, no chance for you to stand there looking confused. 

she hates when you look at her like you’re confused.

your eyes nearly jump out of your skull, you immediately let out a sharp gasp.

“no, of course not!” you reply, feeling a little upset at the question. 

“not that it’s any of your business.” 

it hits both of you like a train when you say it. in truth, you want it to hurt, you want sophia to tell you everything was one big mistake. want her to snap out of it, want her to pull you in by the belt of your pants. to fuck you like you meant something.

but you want it to sting, she doesn’t have the right. doesn’t have the ability to dictate what you are to her, not with him still in the picture. you’re digging for more, for her to explain his unusual place in her life. 

“say that again.” 

she dares you, eyes hard like steel. 

you step close enough to breathe it in her face, she doesn’t step back, body tight like a rubberband. and you think if you breathe in the wrong, maybe right, direction, she’ll blow up.

“i said…it’s none of your business.” you hold your own, standing firmly. she stares at you, listening to you try to defend yourself . “it’s none of your business. who i fuck. who i kiss. who i touch.”

you continue to corner her a bit, and she’s getting angrier by the second, you know in a second she’d be all over you like a predator, she has that gaze.

“oh! you must be out of your depth here.” she pushes you with a light laugh at the end of sentence. grabbing you by your shirt, hand clenched to the point her knuckles turn white. you feel like you’ll snap, either your shirt or you first, you don’t know. “it is my Goddamn business.”

she snarls the words out, an anger thats fueled by jealousy and the tense sexual tension that always lingers when you two are too close. 

“funny how you think i’d let you touch someone else, with what’s supposed to be mine.”

she pushes you, enough to make you stumble a bit, your hat falling onto the ground. then grabbing onto you again, pulling you straight into the bedroom. each step like a sentence to the dungeon, but you’re more than happy to be locked here. with all her attention and anger directed at you.

“you want to play dumb? fine. let me remind me who you belong to.” 

you fall backwards onto the mattress, ready to push her under you, an undercurrent of wanting to control the pace nearly making you go tunnel vision. but sophia’s got her mind set. eyes ablaze as she pulls your belt out of your jeans. holding your body down with her hips. she stares at you angrily, a need to remind you where you are. 

under her. 

she ties your hands in a quick fashion, pulling the belt until there’s tension, keeping your hands above your head. 

you try pulling against the bedpost, but it doesn’t give.

she pushes your shirt up, until she can scratch your stomach with her nails, then she leans down, hair in beautiful waves falling around you, until all you can breathe and see is her.

she pushes your pants down a bit, not enough to take it off, but enough to let the pressure of your pants alleviate. and then she stops midway. your pants are lifted off your hips but not enough to move anywhere else.

“either you tell me who this belongs to.” she snaps the pants back onto your skin. hand immediately back on you, pressed against you, not enough to move, but with enough to make you want to buck your hips. “or i leave you here. your choice.” 

she says it in that tone, the one that lets you know there’s no other choice, not if you still want to be in her good graces. 

“yours fia, i swear.” you groan a bit, trying to find some pressure to alleviate the ever present problem in your pants. “all of me belongs to you.”

she smiles big, in that smile that lets you know she’s won, and she’s going to be rewarded heavily for it.

“good answer baby.” she taps your cheek a bit, liking the way you keep trying to touch her, like you deserved to after pulling that with her. 

“i would say you kept up a good fight,” she takes a long lick over your stomach, feeling it tense under her touch, “but we know you’ll end up like putty in my hands.”

she’s reeling in her win, a cocky grin that won’t leave her face. you nearly whimper at the contact, she’s barely touched you and you’re taut, trying to arch into her, for some contact at the very least.

“please fia, let me touch you.” you whine again, trying your best to get out of your restraints. its driving you mad how you can’t touch her. can’t feel her the way you want.

“not tonight. not until i'm satisfied.” she leans back, unbuckling your pants and staring down at you, like she’s caught her prey in a trap. 

you continue to try and move your hips, like a caught animal trying so desperately to be released, but it’s no use. not when she’s got you finally where she wants you. 

“fuck fia, please, need to touch you.” you try to beg, but it only spurs her on, oh how the mighty have fallen. she shakes her head, giving you a kiss on the cheek before climbing off of you, pulling herself off the bed.

she takes her time, tonight she’s in charge, and she’ll take everything she can get. especially with the way you’re trying so hard to watch her, head trying to look at her despite the restraints holding you in place. it drives her insane, knowing she still has that much of an effect on you, tracking all of her movements without trying to miss a single second. 

she can feel herself getting hot by how hard you’re staring at her. a slight sheen on sweat on the back of her neck. you wish you could just rip these restraints off you, to show her who she belonged too. but a deep part of you is just as enticed by this side of her. 

desire pooling in your lower stomach and you nearly jump when she takes off your shoes, sliding them off quickly. you don’t even care what she does, as long as she’s touching you, you’re more than okay with that. 

her hands slide up along your pants, and really you feel like a horny teenager being touched for the first time. the way she intentionally drags it out, slow enough to keep you engaged but not enough to give you relief. 

“fia, please.” you beg again, and again. she swears she’s never heard you so desperate, at the mercy of her control. she could get used to this. and soon enough, she’s pulling your pants and boxers off, enough to alleviate the pressure that’s been confining your lower half.

“please what?” she says with anticipation in her eyes, she’s never seen you so out of control. so much want to let her do whatever she wants. it makes her pride swell.

“please, touch me.” you moan out, and you’re so tightly wound that it almost feels like you’re in pain. pain of not having her all over you. desperate and whining for attention.

she likes the sound of that. pulling herself forward, settling for sitting on top you. light touches dancing on your hip. not close enough to where you truly want her, but a relief that she is even touching you at all. the hard exterior that you’ve put up over the years is crumbling, and of course is being unraveled by her.

she continues her light touches until she gets lower, already sensitive to the touch, trying your best to get some movement against her hand. but she holds still, liking the way you’re completely at her will.

then she spits in her hand, enough to get your cock wet, spreading it all over. you moan at the contact, letting yourself relax again, getting that much needed relief after all.

sophia’s got other plans in mind.

“so, you let anyone touch you?” she says, continuing to stroke you up and down, letting the build up confuse your brain, “do you, slut?” 

you’ve never heard sophia talk like this before, the way she stares down at you like you’re nothing and everything at the same time. the way she stops her hand when you don’t respond.

“answer me.” it’s not particularly loud, but it makes you want to shrink. 

“n-no, i don’t.” you whimper a bit, trying to buck your hips again, to which she completely lets go of you. a growing dissatisfaction in her eyes. 

“you don’t, slut? so what was that back there?” she growls out. 

“i-i i really-she was drunk. i was helping her back. please sophia, please touch me.” you beg, trying to move your legs and by now sophia’s getting irritated. 

“don’t let that happen again.” sophia goes back to stroking you again, and you nearly flinch at the contact, it was so sudden and gentle that you wanted to chase after it.

“i won’t, i promise! please faster.” you continue to beg, head thrown back in pleasure as she continues to give you a growing pleasure in your stomach. she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, a reward for the correct answer.

“my little slut will get what she wants.” sophia says it out loud, but mostly it’s for herself. a direct and open claim of you. you’ve never been so worked up before, all this teasing and lack of control is making every sense more heightened.

“yes, please, fuck.” you moan out everytime she drags her hand up the top, a delicious pressure that has you leaking out pre-cum. you’re breathing heavy, head to one side as you try to fight the growing orgasm that’s closing in on you. the feeling of sophia all over you again has you unraveling earlier than you were expecting. “i’m your slut.”

you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, just begging for a release, one that sophia will happily grant you if you answer this next question correctly. she speeds up her movements, you continue to let out begging words at her mercy. 

“so, who’s is this?” she makes it a point to squeeze you suddenly, drawing a gasp and some more pre-cum flowing from the head. the increased pace is making you want to pass out, and all you can feel is the mounting orgasm that will explode soon.

“fuck, yours, i swear to God, it’s yours, i’m yours.” you ramble a bit, trying so very desperately to chase after your own release, it’s a beautiful sight to sophia. just a little more and she has you begging for a single touch.

she doesn’t mistake how you try to bite at something, anything to contain the inevitable orgasm. you bite into the closest thing you have which is a small pillow to your right. and your body tenses like it usually does, a tightness in your stomach and you try and push into her hand. 

“fuck, sophia, please, don’t stop.” you continue to push into her hand, and she can feel herself drooling at the sight, wiping it away with the back of her other hand. and like a drawn bow, the arrow is released.

“fuck oh God, fia. fuck, i’m cumming.”

you shake a bit as you cum, legs shaking and torso taut, arching off the bed, the cum spilling out in streams. 

all landing on your abdomen. 

but sophia doesn’t stop, she continues to stroke you through the orgasm, your body convulsing at the motion, it drives you insane. you can feel your body feeling overloaded with stimulation. 

“fuck-sophia, please,” you try to gain some control, the continuous stroking making you cum more than you’ve ever cum before. “give-give me a second.”

she gives you a few more strokes before letting go, you’re breathing hard, sweat glistening under the lights, and God, sophia swears she’ll never let you walk away from her again. as she watches you try to get your focus back. instead, she pulls herself on top of you, resting herself right on top of your spent cock.

she pulls her dress up, just above her hips, dragging herself on top of your cock, a slow rocking motion against you, and you let out a gasp at the contact again. your brain is fuzzy and barely recovered when she starts moving. 

she has every intent of making this as pleasurable for herself.

you can feel it, the lack of panties in the way. she came all the way here for one thing only, it only brings you faster to attention, the blood flowing straight to your cock once more.

she continues to ride the underside of your cock, small moans and quick breaths pulling from that gorgeous throat of hers. 

you’re mesmerized, eyes in a trance, loving the way she’s using you for her own pleasure. to chase after her own orgasm. you try pulling at the restraints again, trying to desperately to touch her. 

she smiles through all of it, enjoying you trying so hard to get your hands out of your belt. she smells sweet, and the mixed smell of everything is driving you insane.

“fia, please, let me touch you.” you’re pleading with her, barely able to get out a single word without pulling again. and she finds it insanely hot, how you can’t even focus on anything. eyes flying around, trying to pull yourself free, trying to watch her at the same time, trying so very hard.

she swears she can cum just from watching you, her continuous rocking motion making her approach her own orgasm. it’s the delicious pressure on her clit that makes her stay still. wants to see you continue to beg, wants that torture to ruin you. 

until all you know and want is her.

“mm, maybe if you’re good i’ll let you.” sophia returns back to riding herself on top of you, leaning down to pepper kisses along your abs. a reminder that she has every right to touch you anywhere. it’s bringing you to your own orgasm too. and in a deft motion, she pulls herself back, seeing your cock angry red, trying to jump at the loss of contact. 

she smirks at that, slowly lifting her hips to slid it near her hole. the tip just barely prodding the entrance, and with a slow controlled movement, she sinks down onto you, inch by inch, she takes her time. enjoying the delicious stretch, her hands scratching your stomach, where just seconds ago she had left kisses. each lipstick mark like a claim of possession.

“you look so good like this,” she drags a singular nail around, continuing to slowly lift her hips again, and rocking back down. “such a good little slut for me.” 

“fia, fia, fia.” you chant her name like a mantra. caught under her spell and wanting nothing more than to spill everything inside of her. “fuck, i’m close.”

“already?” sophia smirks, and really she’s teasing you. she knows how wound up you are, how sensitive you are after your first orgasm, one slight clench and you would spill inside of her. 

so she tests you, giving you a clench that has your eyes prickling with tears. you can barely contain yourself, twitching wildly at the sudden pressure. wanting so badly to touch her, any part of her. 

she leans in close, giving you another squeeze that has you convulsing once more.

“fia, please, i’m so close.” you whine out. 

she’s on cloud 9 right now, clenching again and then you’re spilling inside of her. loud pants and whines ripping through your already dry throat. cumming with every bit of energy that you have within you. 

she leans close again, kissing you wildly through your orgasm. hair clenched in between her fingers. you’re letting out pretty sounds out of your mouth through each kiss. still trying so hard to pull against the leather belt. tears and cum spilling out of you. and sophia thinks you look glorious like this under her.

you eventually feel the ebbs of your orgasm dying out, sophia still wrapped around you, warm heat that is making you lightheaded.

“Jesus Christ, fia. i’ve never cum that hard.” you get out in between gasps, eyes closed and trying your best to calm your heart. it’s beating faster than you’ve ever felt it, and if you weren’t so spent you would realize sophia’s chasing after her own orgasm. using her fingers to bring her to her own orgasm, with your cock still nestled inside. 

“mm, fuck, that’s good, stay inside.” she whines a bit, continuing to rub herself, rocking herself against you, and really you can’t take it anymore, nearly losing yourself in the throes of passion, almost blacking out. but the sensation keeps you close, the persistent tension against the belt.

“fuck!” she comes tumbling down, orgasm causing her to clench around you, shaking on top of you and then she falls on top of you. cock still very much inside of her as she continues to cum. you try your best to give her kisses, peppering her cheek with them as she’s spent too. heavy breathing, chest to chest, and your eyes are bleary. 

sophia’s the first to move, pushing herself up, enough to have both of her arms holding her up on top of you. her eyes are so filled with emotion, the same kind of emotion she held in her eyes when she stood across from you on that altar, under God, and with everyone in the church. 

she wants to cry, everything’s been so emotional, how she had yearned for you for years. regretting ever leaving you, carried your child and stood by everything that she did in hopes that you two would return to each other. when everything isn’t as messy as it once was. 

just two girls trying to be with each other.

like both of you intended. and by no means is this meant to save everything between you, but for now, for this very moment where your two souls are connected like puzzle pieces, she’ll allow herself this relief. 

in this moment you were hers and she was yours, through and through. 

so she dips back down, giving you a kiss that’s pouring every emotion she can possibly muster up, every ounce of grief, pain, love, and yearning born from her love for you. she doesn’t know if it’s enough, but she hopes it means something to you. wet tears hitting your cheeks as she continues to kiss you. trembling lips that are trying to hold back the pain of losing you, over and over again.

“fia?” you ask her, watching the way the cries continue to slip out, silently crying on top of you. she continues her downpour of tears even when she slips the belt off your hands. your hands immediately on her face again. trying so desperately to stop her tears. so moved by your action that she cries all over again. head sinking to your shoulder.

two naked souls trying to have a conversation with each other. 

you hold her in your hands, keeping her close and softly rubbing her back in comforting circles. and she cries in your arms. wrapping around your torso too. you hold her for the whole night, until her cries turn into soft breaths and her tears have dried. until she’s that girl that you asked to marry when you both were bright-eyed and had dreams of conquering the world.

you hold her close long after she’s fallen asleep. moving to another bed in the suite after you’ve cleaned up the mess between you two. the softness of her eyes hidden under calmness, gently brushing her hair as she continues to sleep through the night. 

you eventually succumb to sleep too. holding her in your arms and hers securely around yours too. in the middle of the night she woke up in a panic, trying desperately to find you, only to realize you were right in front of her. soft snores and a heavy arm laid on her side. 

she kissed each part of your face gently, just to prove to herself you were here. before closing her eyes again. drifting off to a dreamland where your family was all together, laughter and screams filling the air.

‐‐

last night was something.

you didn’t know how to explain it, and you’re sure sophia wouldn’t be able to either.

but last night, you both quickly cross the threshold of just ex partners trying to coparent. crossing the threshold of just trying to coexist in each other’s worlds without crashing into each other. but honestly, did you really think you could just coexist with sophia?

the same woman that stole your heart when she brought you charlie as a small pup from her uncles dog’s litter. the same woman that was your personal nurse when you almost got trampled by a bull and had to be bed-ridden for weeks.

no, you could never simply coexist with her. your lives were intertwined as if by the simple laws of nature. by the simple fact that she was yours and you were hers. through legality and spirituality you two could never completely separate from each other.

and by God’s grace, you were here. running your hands through her hair gently. an ache in your heart and soul to reconnect with the one woman who had spoiled love for you. it drives you mad with want and resentment, wanting for her to be yours again. no need for anyone to interfere.

if last night was any indication of her feelings for you, then you’d be a fool to think she wants anyone other than you. but still everything is so confusing with her, how she refuses to speak about him. you want answers, last night wasn’t just some jealous fueled hook up to you. it has to mean more. it simply has to, or else…did you just give your heart away again?

sophia stirs under your touch, a light smile at the touch, she leans into it, enjoying the way you continue to massage her scalp. it’s relaxing and reminds her of the small acts of affection that you love giving her.

“hi.” you whisper gently, liking the way she hums lightly. eventually placing a hand over your heart, just holding it there. feeling it pulse under her hand. 

“hi, good morning.” you listen to her morning voice, like a songbird it’s tickles your ears. you smile wide before inching closer, placing a quick kiss onto her lips. to which she pulls you in closer, a long and searing kiss filling both of your desires.

“so, last night?” you cock an eyebrow, you weren’t playing any games and you hoped she wasn’t either. instead sophia curls into herself, feeling hot heat rise to her cheeks, dusting them in pink.

“last night…yeah…”sophia drags out. trying her best to hide under the covers again.

“nuh uh, come on, what was all that?” you ask. pulling the covers away, revealing an extremely embarrassed sophia. she instead covers her face with her hands. trying to roll to the other side. “fia?”

“ugh fine, i was…i was jealous okay!” sophia lets go of her hands, dropping them to her side, but still unable to look at you in the eyes. you chuckle a bit, to which she hides herself again. 

this time you don’t bother trying to unveil her.

“yeah i got that,” you roll your eyes in amusement, oh it was clear as day she was jealous. she always was whenever someone got to close to you, or even lingered a little too long. this wasn’t the unusual part, sophia rarely acted on her jealousy. instead letting you respectfully tell the other party that you were taken, because in her head. it was hotter that way. it was hotter for her you to state how you were taken than for her to intervene.

“but seriously fia, you’ve never pulled that. i mean ever.” you continue, dropping the amusement in your voice.

“i know…and it’s so stupid, i just…” she continues to voice out her embarrassment, “everything between us is so rocky, and i needed this. i needed to prove to myself that i’m still who you want.” 

your eyes soften at the sudden vulnerability. instead of embarrassment, sophia lets her hands drop. sitting up straight, half of the duvet still covering her. and you sit up too. 

“fia…what do you mean?” you ask, taking her hand in yours, rubbing small circles on her hand. to calm her through this vulnerable moment, and show that you were here for her.

“i guess, what i’m trying to say is. i still need to know that you want me, and i know it’s selfish. but my God, i still want you, i always have, even when i left, everything in me still wants you.” she rambles out, her other hand moving in a dramatic motion, eyes that are darting everywhere, eventually focusing on you.

“and thomas?” you drop the question. the topic that you both have skirted around since your arrival. especially when you refused to let her explain herself when you left your ranch two years ago. you ask it in a quiet voice, feeling yourself sink at the question. 

you weren’t ready for the answer, but it was now or never.

“thomas, he.” sophia runs her hand through her hair, a long sigh causing her to deflate. “he isn’t my fiancé, at least not willingly. he-his dad, i signed my acting contract with his dad.” she continues to speak, a hidden vulnerability that’s making her shrink herself, head dipped low, almost as if she’s embarrassed. 

you hate the sight of it.

“i signed a contract when i first got here, right after i landed my first big role. everyone wanted to book me, so i signed with his company. and thomas he-he fucking used that contract against me.”

you nod, but there’s a sudden burst of anger growing in your heart. 

“he fucking-he fucking made me get the divorce.”

she dropped the bomb, and you’re leaning back now, shock hitting your system all over again. “sophia, what?” you gasp out, eyes confused and she looks up, watery eyes staring into you.

“he used the contract against me, he knew i had a spat with one of his dad’s buddy directors. i walked out on the filming, my manager made it seem like i had health issues. but i couldn’t stand him, so i left, i left an entire project. everyone was mad, i mean his dad almost threatened to cut me.” sophia continues to talk, a tear falling and you can’t even utter a word.

“you can’t just leave a project unscathed, you could get blacklisted out here. and fucking thomas, he used that against me. he had evidence of me walking out, and he said he would leak it, it would’ve destroyed my career. i was fucking blackmailed.” 

sophia continues to cry, angry tears rolling off her cheeks, much different from the ones she had last night.

“sophia…” you say gently, trying to calm her anger, even though the one inside of you was growing.

“and he fucking asked to get married. said it would fix everything, he would delete the evidence and i would be able to get back to my career. and i said yes, i never should’ve. should’ve just let my career die, but then he got records of us, our marriage. said he would leak that too, fuck.”

you continue to rub small circles, a gentle reminder that you were here, on her side.

“so i came back, to new mexico. i never wanted to ask for a divorce, i swear to you. and when you agreed, my heart shattered. i promised myself i would never love anyone the way i love you. we-we kept on being together, and i fell even harder than i could remember, i still wanted you as much as the first day i met you.” she brings her hand up to hold your head, vulnerable eyes searching for yours.

“i wanted something to keep, even if i had to be miserable for the rest of my life, i wanted to keep something of yours. i wanted to carry your kid. it was the only way i could have you close but keep you safe.” she cries a bit, still holding onto you, trembling fingers dancing along your jaw.

“anna. God gave me anna. God gave me her and i would never trade her for anything. she’s ours and she will always be.” 

“sophia, damn it.” your words are unstable, and you let out a single tear, the pain of thinking about her for two years coming back. all the pain and yearning for each other never subsided. for either side.

“i know, i know baby.” she cries continuing to cradle your jaw, leaving a kiss so soft it felt like a petal had fallen on your face. “it was selfish–but it was all i had. i knew our time was almost up, and i needed something of yours. it’s so selfish, but i could never regret having her.” 

you know in some twisted way what she was expressing. that night, two years ago, you wanted to leave something behind too. something for sophia to remember you by, the willingness to do everything she wanted, to even leave her with the possibility of carrying your child. you wanted it all.

“sophia, i was selfish too.” you confess, remembering how you felt that night, in the midst of the passion you realized how badly you wanted to leave your imprint on her too. “i’ve always, and i mean always, dreamed of having a big family with you. so when you asked me to, you know…i gave into that instinct, because it’s all i ever wanted.”

she stares at you, heart exploding in a thousand directions. she remembered very early on in your marriage, you bringing up wanting kids, maybe as a simple comment. but she couldn’t deny how happy you looked playing with her nieces and nephews.

“you want kids with me?” sophia asks.

“of course i do, fia.” you reply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “i always did, and i always will. even now i still do.” 

you shift a bit, pulling her into a hug with how stunned she looks at you. another explosion of warmth from her heart. even with a tormented past that held her instincts back, how she aches just the same for you. it drives her mad, you wanted everything she wanted and more.

you rub her back gently, enjoying the way she’s holding you so close. she drops her head onto your shoulders, and you do too. just contently laying on each other.

“so, what do we do?” you ask. you’re hoping sophia won’t go through with the divorce. everything that was shared here, in the bed that you two share, it’s something worth preserving.

she lifts her head off your shoulder, taking both of your hands in hers, a determined look in her eyes. 

“you remember lara?” she asks, a small smile on her eyes.

“of course.” you reply, pulling one of her hands towards you to give a small kiss, just across each knuckle.

“well, we found something, some dirt on thomas.” she starts, reaching for her phone and opening the photo album. “we’re going to leak it to the press, everything, all his partying problems, the coercion of marriage, my acting contract.”

she shows you everything, including the unsavory of parts of thomas’ addictive lifestyle. she even points out the clauses in thomas’ fathers inheritance. it’s all there in fine print, this would kill even the highest star’s reputation.

“but sophia, won’t this kill your career?” you ask, realizing there’s no way for her to get out of this freely. surely his team will try and ruin her, ruin everything that she’s worked so hard towards.

“we’re going to leak it to multiple sources, anonymously of course. we’ll leak it tomorrow morning. it’ll be the first day of freedom, i won’t be under his clutches anymore.” she says exasperatedly, dropping the phone onto her bed. 

“tomorrow? why tomorrow?” you ask, going back to holding her hands. 

“i wanted to tell you first, everything about me and my past, you should hear it from me. i didn’t want to leak it and have you find out that way. you deserved to hear it from me.” 

“thank you.” it meant more to you than she could ever know. you were tired of hearing about everything after the fact, almost like an afterthought. to hear about everything firsthand was a relief, she considered how you would feel and took the time to explain the situation to you.

she gives you a kiss, a soft one. one that blooms feelings of love in your chest once more.

“i’m sorry, for everything.” she expresses. 

“i know fia.” you respond, giving her a kiss that makes her wrap her arms around you, trying to deepen the kiss when you pull back. “but i need time, to process everything. i don’t think i can give you my heart as it is right now.” 

you want to, but how could you be expected to offer your heart on a silver platter even with everything that’s been revealed. a part of you still resents her for what she’s refused to tell you, you know it was because of thomas but still there are things that wound your heart. and you need time.

you two were by no means perfect, but you would try everything to make it so that you two could work. 

and sophia, she would try ten times harder to win your heart back.

she swore to God she would.

--

a/n: the much anticipated pt2 of the 'save a horse, ride a cowgirl' fic. i hope i have brought the story to justice. stay safe and stay healthy everyone. cheers, hope you've enjoyed!

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Damian's (not) real friend

Based on the results of this poll post.

Bruce knew kids made imaginary friends as part of their development. He had done plenty of research on the topic long before taking in Dick. Over the years, as his children grew in numbers, so did his research on proper developmental milestones.

Typically, children create imaginary friends from the ages of six to nine. But that did not mean they had to give them up even if they were in their teens.

So yes, he knew kids could have imaginary friends of any age, but seeing Damian develop one was slightly shocking. It might have been due to his upbringing that Damian hadn't had one or had chosen not to speak of his buddy until he knew he was safe.

Knowing his son felt secure enough in his household to do so filled his heart with joy. Bruce kept an eye on Damian since he brought up his new friend, Daniel. He was glad his son had finally made a friend in his school that it took a few days to notice Damian never brought up Daniel unless someone else did.

When Tim asked him about his friend- claiming to have spotted Damian sitting by himself at lunchtime after his youngest had told everyone he had lunched with Daniel- the boy had waved his concerns away.

That's when Bruce learned Daniel was not a little kid at Damian's school but rather an imaginary friend.

More specifically, he learned that Daniel could not be photographed or recorded. He simply would not appear on cameras or in auto recordings. Damian didn't seem to find any of that odd, nor take into account that, as Batman and Co., they had the means to pick up some trace of something being there.

After all, they had machines that could indicate a Speedster messing with the timeline! But no, Damian insisted that Daniel simply could not be recorded.

Apparently, Damian checked.

Now Bruce knew that an imaginary friend only became a concern when the child seemed frightened by it; it encourages harmful or destructive behavior; it rapidly changes the child's typical behavior, and the child blames it for all harmful or dangerous behavior or if it disrupts the child's ability to socially interact with others.

Daniel didn't seem to frighten Damian, nor did it encourage bad behavior in his son. But it certainly got in the way of Damian making real friends, and his son's behavior changed, even if he grumbled good naturally about it.

Daniel pestered Damian to join him in exploring Gotham to find, and Bruce quotes, "Secret spots for getting down in funky town."

Damian had videos of himself break dancing in abandoned subways, ballroom dancing with the air in an abandoned firehouse, and the oddest of all, disco in an underpass where he seemed to be making faces at the area around his left shoulder. He never posted them, claiming that Daniel just wanted them for themselves.

Bruce was mildly alarmed. He brought it up with the rest of his children, who all reported similar tales of Daniel.

Tim had noticed Damian recording songs in his room- his son had inherited the Wayne vocal cords. They were all blessed singers- claiming that Daniel had written and composed the music but had wanted Damian to record it since he couldn't. They would be using it in one of their videos.

Jason brought up the fact he had seen Damian make a collage covered in nothing but pictures of himself and the Gotham landscapes. Damian had spent nearly seven hours cutting, gluing, and organizing the postal board that he hung up.

Dick's report, however, was the most alarming. He had seen a photo booth strip Damian carried at all times. It supposedly held Daniel, but all he saw was an empty booth. This, coupled with the heart-shaped frame of some underpass, of an empty wall that Damian lovingly placed on his desk, could only mean one thing.

"Damian is infatuated with his imaginary friend." He said, voice heavy in concern as his children gave each other wary looks. "Damian is fully convinced Daniel is real and, likely, is treating him as a boyfriend rather than a best friend."

"Want me to talk to him? I can get him to agree to introduce me to his....boyfriend." Steph volunteers while stepping forward. "There were some cases at the homeless shelter Duke and I volunteer at where I needed to convince some kids to introduce me to their imaginary friends."

"That could work. Besides Dick, you have the closest relationship with Damian," Duke agrees. He is staring at the videos of Damian dipping someone that wasn't there, jaw tense. It likely reminded him of his parents. "It is better to send you in just because Damian may not be ready to talk to Dick about crushes."

"I'll set up some closer monitoring around Damian," Babs offers, nodding at Tim, who was already hacking into the boy's school cameras. She had sent him a private message to get started on that the second she heard Dick's report. She was busy hacking into the city's system of Damian's usual routes when going into the city. "If someone caused him to develop Daniel, I want to be sure we stop it."

"And I'll be sure to make them pay," Jason hissed, punching his fist as Cass twirled a blade at his side, nodding in agreement. She hasn't said much, but everyone could see the anger and concern for the youngest in her eyes. Apparently, she had been able to tell through Damian's body language he had developed a crush on Daniel but had not picked up on the fact he wasn't real.

To Damian, he was, so when she read his body language, she thought he was, too.

Alfred speaks up, his voice even despite the slight tremble in his folded hands on the conference table. "We also have to consider the possibility of instituting Damian. Something like this does not dub well for Master Damian's ability in the field. Civilian or Cape."

His words send a cold chill down everyone's backs. It was like the air itself was holding its breath as they turned to look at Bruce, waiting for his call. Bruce had his face in his hands, shoulders shaking in silent tears, but he nodded. "Dami needs help"

Dick stumbled back into his chair, looking like his father had just punched him in the gut. Tim's fingers paused over the keys, eyes hazy and lips tight. Cass' knife stabbed the table, grip knuckle white while Jason swore up a storm, slamming a fist down.

Steph, Duke, and Babs remained in their spot, but their faces had angry frowns. Bitter that they could do no more as they glared into the air around them. The three had always been more silent rage than the rest, the kind that forced the air around them when the rest of the Bats burned in it.

"We have to-" Bruce's words get cut off by the Cave communication bell. The camera on the Batcomputer turns on, displaying Damian in a rather fetching streetwear outfit.

"Hello, Father." He said calmly, aiming the camera so they could see he was inside a stale bathroom. "I am calling to ask permission to invite Daniel to dinner at the Manor. We were going to get some pizza after our latest dancing video, but the one Daniel adores was closed for construction, and it's getting rather late for other places. Daniel lives in the bad side of town, so his sister would rather he not be out too late."

Oh gods, Daniel had a sister now? One that limited Damian's movements?

"Of course, son," Bruce heard himself say. A heavy lump developed in his throat as a broad, pleased smile spread across his child's face. Bruce is no stranger to heartbreak, but he felt it cracking as Damian reminded him that Daniel was a civilian, so they needed to ensure that vigilante things were out of sight. "That sounds fine, Dami. We will be waiting for you both."

"We?"

"Your siblings want to meet Daniel." Bruce clarifies, looking around the table of his children, who look back at Damian with pity. "Don't you?"

Dick presses a hand against his mouth, nodding his head. "We sure do. Heard so much about Daniel, it would be a shame not to."

"Very well." Damian yields after some thought. "We shall be home in an hour. Alfred, could you make some meat lasagna? That's Daniel's favorite food."

"It's making him ask for meat." Jason curses under her breath "on top of everything else?"

Thankfully, it's too soft for Damian to hear, so Alfred speaks up. "Of course,e Master Damian."

"Replace the béchamel sauce with layers of cheese, please." Damian requests, smile turning a bit soft and gooey. "Daniel prefers it that way."

"Right away, sir."

The call ends, and the cave erupts into noise. Bruce springs to his feet, shouting out orders. They will think of what to do now that Damian has introduced them to Daniel.

Multiple JusticeLeague-approved therapists are called, Black Carnary is on speed dial for any help they may need, and the kids brush up on their mental illness assistant packages. They don't plan on confronting Damian tonight about it, but they will carefully prob to see what exactly Daniel and his sister make Damian do.

____________________________________________________________

Alfred's face spams an hour late as he watches the front gate security cameras. Master Damian arrives in an Uber, holding the door open and offering his hand to the air as if attempting to help someone get out of the vehicle. The boy waves away the driver, then keeps his hand wrapped around nothing as he strides to the Manor in sure steps.

Alfred doesn't have the auto on, but he can tell by the movement of Master Damian's lips that he is speaking to it.

Alfred moves to the front door, fixing his vest to gather courage before opening the door, a calm Welcome home, Master Damian on his lips.

Only to choke on his spite at the sight of another young boy the same age as Master Damian standing right where Daniel should be. He even has his fingers interlocked with Master Damian.

"Alfred, this is Daniel Fenton. Daniel, this is my family butler, Alfred Pennyworth."

"You're real," Alfred breathes, staring wide-eyed at the boy who offers him a wave. It's such a whiplash from the emotional turmoil of this afternoon that he forgets himself and his manners as he gawks at the child.

"Um, I sure am?" Daniel, for his part, looks a little uneasy, which prompts Master Damian to step in front of him, shielding him with his body. His green eyes are blazing with slight protective rage.

"I did not see you in the camera...." He hears himself say as if that was justification for his reaction.

Master Domain's shoulders relax. "Yes, Daniel does not appear on any form of record. It happens. Come, Daniel, I'll show you my room while dinner is made."

"Cool. Can we practice some new moves, too? I really want to get the choreography for our new song down."

"Of course."

Alfred steps back, allowing the children to walk inside, climb up the stairs, and vanish from sight. He fumbles for his phone, knowing he has to report this before Master Bruce and the other children make fools of themselves.

Goodness, he didn't even start on the meat lasagna. He didn't think he was actually going to feed someone.

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

the pro

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby. 

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored. 

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days. 

Art Donaldson. 

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage. 

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks. 

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine. 

“We’ll start with the basics.” 

-- 

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go. 

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.” 

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him. 

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you. 

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace. 

-- 

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.” 

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days. 

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?” 

“No.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches. 

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?” 

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?” 

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit. 

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.” 

“Lily?” 

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.” 

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.  

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.” 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?” 

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?” 

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.” 

“...He seems to be pretty busy.” 

“He is.” 

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?” 

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“It shows, you know,” He says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.” 

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm. 

“Just good?” He plies. 

“The best. A real pro.” 

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat. 

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?” 

“She’s killing it.” 

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it. 

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.” 

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds. 

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.” 

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.” 

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.” 

--  

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him. 

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw. 

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap. 

-- 

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch. 

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies. 

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud. 

It spurs you to lunge a little too far. 

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side. 

“What hurts?” 

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left. 

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.” 

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand. 

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?” 

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort. 

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns. 

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.” 

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips. 

“Of course.” 

-- 

“How’s the ankle?” 

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again. 

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks. 

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Good enough to walk on?” 

Hardly. 

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again? 

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up. 

-- 

I invited Art. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all. 

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days. 

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely. 

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room. 

“Almost ready in here?” He asks. 

“All set!” 

-- 

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile. 

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds. 

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests. 

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself. 

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves. 

“Wanted to come say hi.” 

“Well. Hi.” 

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet. 

“Thanks for the invite.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours. 

“He isn’t taking care of you.” 

“My ankle is fine.” 

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down. 

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—” 

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip. 

“Condom?” He asks. 

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.” 

“Sssh.” 

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip. 

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—” 

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Art—” 

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?” 

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm. 

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties. 

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room. 

--  

“Can I see you?” 

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him. 

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies. 

“Where?” 

“I’ll send an address.” 

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk. 

“...You regret it?” He asks. 

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do. 

--  

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck. 

“Is this Lily?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.” 

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.” 

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully. 

“Art?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why am I here?” 

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer. 

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.” 

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.” 

-- 

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up. 

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

--

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[ailelie]

Essays and Meta on Interactive Fiction Design

2025.5.20: Updated original list with more resources. I've also fixed the links.

Structure

Standard Patterns in Choice-Based Games

Design Patterns in Choose Your Own Adventures

Small-Scale Structures in CYOA

By the Numbers: How to Write a Long Interactive Novel That Doesn't Suck

Adventures in Text: Innovating in Interactive Fiction

Structuring IF Side Plots

Narrative Graph Models

Beyond Branching: Quality-Based, Salience-Based, and Waypoint Narrative Structures

Puzzle Dependency Charts

What does your narrative system need to do?

Narrative Logics

Design Decisions: Stats

Loose, Tight, Flat, and Bumpy Stats in ChoiceScript Games

7 Rules for Designing Great Stats

Think Before You Stat

Set, Check, or Gate? A problem in personality stats

Design Decisions: Choice

Mailbag: Moments of Non-Choice

Should Games Have Meaningful Choices?

Creating Choices in Interactive Writing

A Bestiary of Player Agency

Making Interactive Fiction: Branching Choices

Successful Reflective Choices in Interactive Narrative

Design Decisions: Other

Writing in Collaboration with the System

Story vs. Game: The Battle of Interactive Fiction

Narrative States

How to write a branching narrative and won't lose your mind

Storygame Genre

Narrative Mechanics, Narrative Dynamics

That Darn Conundrum

Writing Advice and Opinions

The Seven Deadly Sins of Writing Interactive Fiction

Three Solutions to Three Problems in Interactive Fiction

Writing Interactive Fiction in Six Steps

Writing IF

Game Analysis

CYOA Structures: Tween Romance

These Maps Reveal the Hidden Structures of 'Choose Your Own Adventure' Books

Playing With Words: The remarkable Firewatch is part of a new generation of games taking cues from the text adventures of the 1980s

7 works of interactive fiction that every developer should study

The Illusion of Free Will: On "Bandersnatch" and Interactive Fiction

Scarlet Sails (and a discussion about game size

Musings on IF

Interactive Fiction as Literature

Riddle Machines: The History and Nature of Interactive Fiction

Toward a Theory of Interactive Fiction

Interactive Fiction for the Modern Game Designer

The Joy of Text: the fall and rise of interactive Fiction

Going Interactive or: How I Learned to Relax and Let the Reader Take Control

In the Beginning Was The Word

An Alternative Taxonomy for Interactive Stories

Misc

Ethically Designing Unethical Worlds

Break the Loop

Game Taxonomies: A High Level Framework for Game Analysis and Design

An in-depth look at what otome players wants

Mailbag: Self-Training in Narrative Design

[phantomrose96]

The conversation around AI is going to get away from us quickly because people lack the language to distinguish types of AI--and it's not their fault. Companies love to slap "AI" on anything they believe can pass for something "intelligent" a computer program is doing. And this muddies the waters when people want to talk about AI when the exact same word covers a wide umbrella and they themselves don't know how to qualify the distinctions within.

I'm a software engineer and not a data scientist, so I'm not exactly at the level of domain expert. But I work with data scientists, and I have at least rudimentary college-level knowledge of machine learning and linear algebra from my CS degree. So I want to give some quick guidance.

What is AI? And what is not AI?

So what's the difference between just a computer program, and an "AI" program? Computers can do a lot of smart things, and companies love the idea of calling anything that seems smart enough "AI", but industry-wise the question of "how smart" a program is has nothing to do with whether it is AI.

A regular, non-AI computer program is procedural, and rigidly defined. I could "program" traffic light behavior that essentially goes { if(light === green) { go(); } else { stop();} }. I've told it in simple and rigid terms what condition to check, and how to behave based on that check. (A better program would have a lot more to check for, like signs and road conditions and pedestrians in the street, and those things will still need to be spelled out.)

An AI traffic light behavior is generated by machine-learning, which simplistically is a huge cranking machine of linear algebra which you feed training data into and it "learns" from. By "learning" I mean it's developing a complex and opaque model of parameters to fit the training data (but not over-fit). In this case the training data probably includes thousands of videos of car behavior at traffic intersections. Through parameter tweaking and model adjustment, data scientists will turn this crank over and over adjusting it to create something which, in very opaque terms, has developed a model that will guess the right behavioral output for any future scenario.

A well-trained model would be fed a green light and know to go, and a red light and know to stop, and 'green but there's a kid in the road' and know to stop. A very very well-trained model can probably do this better than my program above, because it has the capacity to be more adaptive than my rigidly-defined thing if the rigidly-defined program is missing some considerations. But if the AI model makes a wrong choice, it is significantly harder to trace down why exactly it did that.

Because again, the reason it's making this decision may be very opaque. It's like engineering a very specific plinko machine which gets tweaked to be very good at taking a road input and giving the right output. But like if that plinko machine contained millions of pegs and none of them necessarily correlated to anything to do with the road. There's possibly no "if green, go, else stop" to look for. (Maybe there is, for traffic light specifically as that is intentionally very simplistic. But a model trained to recognize written numbers for example likely contains no parameters at all that you could map to ideas a human has like "look for a rigid line in the number". The parameters may be all, to humans, meaningless.)

So, that's basics. Here are some categories of things which get called AI:

"AI" which is just genuinely not AI

There's plenty of software that follows a normal, procedural program defined rigidly, with no linear algebra model training, that companies would love to brand as "AI" because it sounds cool.

Something like motion detection/tracking might be sold as artificially intelligent. But under the covers that can be done as simply as "if some range of pixels changes color by a certain amount, flag as motion"

2. AI which IS genuinely AI, but is not the kind of AI everyone is talking about right now

"AI", by which I mean machine learning using linear algebra, is very good at being fed a lot of training data, and then coming up with an ability to go and categorize real information.

The AI technology that looks at cells and determines whether they're cancer or not, that is using this technology. OCR (Optical Character Recognition) is the technology that can take an image of hand-written text and transcribe it. Again, it's using linear algebra, so yes it's AI.

Many other such examples exist, and have been around for quite a good number of years. They share the genre of technology, which is machine learning models, but these are not the Large Language Model Generative AI that is all over the media. Criticizing these would be like criticizing airplanes when you're actually mad at military drones. It's the same "makes fly in the air" technology but their impact is very different.

3. The AI we ARE talking about. "Chat-gpt" type of Generative AI which uses LLMs ("Large Language Models")

If there was one word I wish people would know in all this, it's LLM (Large Language Model). This describes the KIND of machine learning model that Chat-GPT/midjourney/stablediffusion are fueled by. They're so extremely powerfully trained on human language that they can take an input of conversational language and create a predictive output that is human coherent. (I am less certain what additional technology fuels art-creation, specifically, but considering the AI art generation has risen hand-in-hand with the advent of powerful LLM, I'm at least confident in saying it is still corely LLM).

This technology isn't exactly brand new (predictive text has been using it, but more like the mostly innocent and much less successful older sibling of some celebrity, who no one really thinks about.) But the scale and power of LLM-based AI technology is what is new with Chat-GPT.

This is the generative AI, and even better, the large language model generative AI.

(Data scientists, feel free to add on or correct anything.)

[reasonsforhope]

"The first satellite in a constellation designed specifically to locate wildfires early and precisely anywhere on the planet has now reached Earth's orbit, and it could forever change how we tackle unplanned infernos.

The FireSat constellation, which will consist of more than 50 satellites when it goes live, is the first of its kind that's purpose-built to detect and track fires. It's an initiative launched by nonprofit Earth Fire Alliance, which includes Google and Silicon Valley-based space services startup Muon Space as partners, among others.

According to Google, current satellite systems rely on low-resolution imagery and cover a particular area only once every 12 hours to spot significantly large wildfires spanning a couple of acres. FireSat, on the other hand, will be able to detect wildfires as small as 270 sq ft (25 sq m) – the size of a classroom – and deliver high-resolution visual updates every 20 minutes.

The FireSat project has only been in the works for less than a year and a half. The satellites are fitted with custom six-band multispectral infrared cameras, designed to capture imagery suitable for machine learning algorithms to accurately identify wildfires – differentiating them from misleading objects like smokestacks.

These algorithms look at an image from a particular location, and compare it with the last 1,000 times it was captured by the satellite's camera to determine if what it's seeing is indeed a wildfire. AI technology in the FireSat system also helps predict how a fire might spread; that can help firefighters make better decisions about how to control the flames safely and effectively.

This could go a long way towards preventing the immense destruction of forest habitats and urban areas, and the displacement of residents caused by wildfires each year. For reference, the deadly wildfires that raged across Los Angeles in January were estimated to have cuased more than $250 billion in damages.

Muon is currently developing three more satellites, which are set to launch next year. The entire constellation should be in orbit by 2030.

The FireSat effort isn't the only project to watch for wildfires from orbit. OroraTech launched its first wildfire-detection satellite – FOREST-1 – in 2022, followed by one more in 2023 and another earlier this year. The company tells us that another eight are due to go up toward the end of March."

-via March 18, 2025

[sincerelybubbles]

hotch x shy!bau!reader <3 fem content: slight age gap implied. reader is new to the team and more on the introverted side! not proof read, as is my hubris.

Tired, nerves buzzing from a night spent up and chasing sleep that was not welcoming, you throw your bag down on your desk and go off in hunt of coffee. You usually try to curb your caffeine intake, especially with the travel associated with your new job, but this morning is a happy exception to your new rule.

"Here," Emily says, watching you scan the cabinets of the kitchen. You hadn't heard her walk in, but she's offering you a mug with a sympathetic smile. "Long night?"

"Yes," you say, tone thankful, and spin to figure out the coffee machine.

"Three weeks and i haven't seen you use that once," she comments, sipping from her own warm mug and watching you settle the filter in place.

"I've stayed away. it's harder to sleep when I get back because of the jet lag, anyway, don't need to add coffee at all odd hours to the list, too."

It's the most you've said in casual conversation like this. To say you've been shy with your new team would be an understatement. You're good at your job, you were pulled from the academy early to do this for a reason. You fit well into the team, generally. You like listening to Spencer ramble, especially on the longer flights. Rossi's dry humor reminds you of one of your old professors you grew up admiring. JJ is a constant breath of fresh air, Morgan's consistent strength has built up your own moral. Garcia took no getting used to, lifting you up and settling into your life easily. Hotch is intimidating but kind under the colder-tones, long glances sometimes distracting but oterhwise comforting. Emily is easily one of your favorites on the team, friendly and whip-smart. But, at the core of it, you're shy. Painfully so, even.

The team caught onto this quick, settling into the truth that your observational nature that makes you so adept at noticing the smaller details is bound to weep into your social life as well. So, despite your comfort levels rising with the team, you find these situations hard. Do you explain your nightmares to Emily? Share that you're a diagnosed insomniac who spent the night watching FRIENDS reruns after chasing sleep that pranced beyond reach?

"You're better than me, then," Emily says, smiling over her mug. Her eyes tell you she's pleased at the little crack into your life that you've let her see. They're all like that: insufferably kind and polite with your introverted nature but greedily sipping up everything they can learn about you.

"It's a new development," you admit, clicking start on the machine and settling back against the counter facing her. Something about your sleepiness makes it easier to talk, your tongue looser, your ache to let loose around the team more profound. "I'm sure most of us are insomniacs, though."

"Not me," Emily says, chuckling. "I get home and feel like I don't wake up until I get back here."

"Ah, well, I'm sure it can feel like a curse no matter what way you fall," you say with a shrug. Emily lifts her coffee in cheers to that.

"Morning," Morgan says, turning into the kitchen and giving you a surprised smile. "Hello, sunshine, you're looking bright eyed today."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I know, I know."

Emily points with her chin at you, "She's making the coffee this morning."

"Ah-ah, remaking it because you and pretty boy always get here first and finish the first pot." Morgan teases her with a slight shake of his head, grinning and opening the fridge to pull out the creamer.

"Well, you snooze you loose. Or," she sends you a smile, complete with a little nose wrinkle and a tilt of her head, "you don't snooze and still loose."

"Clever," you say, voice dry with humor, hiding your laugh by turning around as the pot finished brewing. "I'll remember this later."

"Careful, she's got teeth," Morgan warns Emily, reaching around you to grab the coffee before you can and filling his cup.

"Hey!" You call in protest, voice raising louder than usual and a pout hitting your lips. Morgan laughs, white teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Here, here," he says, placating, tipping the pitcher to fill your cup as well. "Any sugar or cream to placate the beast?"

Before you can answer, a laugh on the tip o your tongue, Hotch walks in and settles his watchful eyes on you, interest sparking them. You shrink, not in fear but in self-awareness, and send him a closed lip smile. Stepping away from Morgan, you turn quickly to fix your own coffee.

"Good morning," Hotch says, nodding at Emily and Morgan, answering Emily's question about Jack's recent sickness (he's recovering well, thank you) and trying to catch your eye.

You duck away, cowardly and regressing back into your shell, deciding it's time to get to work and stop indulging. You catch Morgan tease Hotch as you leave, though, "Aw, you've scared her off."

You try not to think about it as you duck away, pushing all thoughts of your boss away.

You're unsuccessful.

The problem isn't that you're afraid of him because you think he's mean or unkind in any way. He's done his best to welcome you to the team, allowing you to take investigations in your own direction and listening to your insights since day one. There was a brief moment in your first week where you felt tested, like his questions weren't to gain your insight but to see if you were up to the task, but you slipped past that easily. you have the credentials to back yourself up. you're quiet, yeah, but you're always right on track to where you need to be. pulled early from academy to jump into investigating was hard but it made this easy. a few years of experience under your belt and the job feels natural and, even with the shift in teams to join the big guns in Quantico, you feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

No, embarrassingly, this has nothing to do with you not liking your boss or being afraid of him. Rather, he makes you too comfortable. He ducks his head to hear you speak as you walk and talk, settling deep eyes on your face. He's sturdy, dependable, and exactly everything you're all too interested in.

You hate it, harboring a school crush on your boss like you're a teen pining over your teacher. You know it's normal, you know it's perfectly reasonable and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to him, but you still slink away from him more than the others because of that attraction.

Because it's more than physical.

He listens when you talk. Granted, so do the rest of the team - they're profilers, of course they catalogue everything everyone is saying for future reference. But, beyond that, you catch him paying attention. He complimented your new blouse earlier in the week and it caused air to catch in your throat, suffocating you. It looked new, bright white and without wrinkles, but you knew he must have been looking, noticing, to remember you not wearing it before. He's kind, remembering details about you and the team and using them to aid in everyone's comfort. He knows Spencer can't handle dairy and you've heard him reminding an intern to stock the dairy-free alternatives for creamer in the jet. He brought you a neck pillow on your second flight because you didn't have one.

That gift you accepted with stuttering thank-you's and a flushed face. It hadn't flared this crush, but it definitely aided in your ability to accept it when you finally got around to no longer avoiding how he made you feel with every kind smile and gentle good morning.

You settle down at your desk, putting your steaming mug on a pile of paperwork you really need to sort through, and try to physically push the thoughts out of your head by ranking your hands through your hair, lifting it from your forehead and squeezing your eyes shut. Today isn't the day. You're too tired, sure that the team will be flying out today, and really need to be on your A-Game.

"Everything okay?" A calm voice asks from your elbow. When you look up, you decide the universe hates you. Hotch is leaning on the desk adjacent to yours, holding his own travel cup full of fresh coffee, chin tilted down to check on you. His gaze is kind, light on your face, and his eyebrows are lifted slightly. You get the feeling that he's doing everything in his power to present himself as less imposing.

"Yes, of course," you answer automatically, heart thudding in your throat.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to profilers," he says, tone teasing, voice still low. "If you're tired, it's okay to admit it to me, too."

You're about to brush him off when something in your brain freezes before clicking into place.

He's looking at you, pleading, expression open. He's usually guarded, professional. Caring, but with a guard up. Rare are these moments of genuine asking, especially rarer so are the moment of pleading hidden behind a mask of gentle humor. You think, briefly, about how it must seem to him. He heard you, Emily, and Morgan joking in the kitchen. You haven't been here long, you're shy, but slowly thawing to everyone but him. He doesn't know your reasons, he couldn't, you've made a genuine effort to hide them, and you force yourself to see it from his perspective.

"Sorry," you say, softly, slowly. "I didn't sleep well. First nightmares and then insomnia. Hence," you gesture toward your mug. You shrug, heart beating out of your chest, eyes searching his. Nice, be nice, be open and kind and yourself. "At least I have FRIENDS reruns to keep me company."

You see something relax in him at your gentle offering of the information. He sends you a not-quite-smile, nodding once and pushing himself off of the desk he was lightly leaning against.

"Take a few minutes, I'm sure JJ will call us in soon." He scans your face for a moment before looking down at your desk. He reaches forward, slowly but with purpose, and lifts a file that has been nagging you for days. The new computer system is hard to get used to and the paperwork load is heavier than you've experienced before. "I can help you with this to ease some of your load, too."

He's walking away before you can protest, tucking the file under his arm and ducking into his office. He moves swiftly, leaving no room for argument, and you're left at your desk, mouth agape and heart in your mouth.

"Wow," Spencer says, jolting you in your chair to spin around and face him. His desk is near yours, across a walkway, and you hadn't registered him sitting there. You think he was nose-deep in a book when you walked in but you hadn't been paying attention. "I don't think I've seen him warm up to someone that fast," Spencer admits, leaning back in his seat and giving you a confused look, eyebrows lowered. "Actually, he's never offered to help me do my paperwork. Ever."

"That's because you read far too fast for it to actually help you," you offer, mind racing, words hollow as your thoughts are elsewhere.

Eyes trained on the windows of Hotch's office, you take his advice and relax for the few minutes before JJ comes to gather you all in the conference room. Coffee on your lips, you let yourself smile behind the rim of your mug. You can't imagine how you could think of anything other than that, really.

[beifong-brainrot]

People will go on about how "Katara's story is a tragedy" because she... ended up marrying the guy she loves, having children and grandchildren which she was always excited about and literally becoming a master waterbender and rising to the top of her field as a healer.

Yes, Katara's story has tragic aspects to it. And there are certainly flaws in how she is written in tlok (Though I will argue that there are actually more issues with how Toph and Zuko are just plopped in there for no reason in later seasons). And her storylines aren't perfect, for example her resolving her trauma around the murder of her mother being more used to prop up Zuko than her own internal turmoil. (Most of TSR is from Zuko's perspective and I hate that actually)

"Katara's story is a tragedy" Why do you have such a hard on for this woman's misery? Let her be happy, man.

You know what gaang girlie's life is an actual onscreen tragedy?

Toph's!

People will fucking downplay Toph's childhood abuse because she wasn't physically hurt, but her childhood was a never ending carousel of abelism, misogyny, neglect and isolation. The way Toph describes her parent's treatment of her as "pressure and pain" is heartbreaking.

Toph's only escape was Earth Rumble and earthbending, but despite her skills, she remained the perfect little lady her parents always wanted her to be. She's never known a different life, and she was only able to be her real self in secret.

And when Toph finally opens up to her parents, when she finally lays her real self bare in front of the people who are supposed to love and care for her?

She is met with what may be, in my opinion, the cruellest rejection in the show.

Despite this, even when Toph runs away, she still cares for her parents' approval. Hell, she's even lured into a trap due to her getting a forged letter from her mom and getting excited because it looked like her mom was finally accepting her.

It's also important to note how determined to be self sufficient and to prove herself Toph is. We can especially see this right after she joins the Gaang, where she refuses to participate in splitting with the rest of the group, insisting on "pulling her own weight". This isn't Toph being a brat, or spoilt, this is her wanting to prove that she can handle herself because people have handled and understimated her her entire life.

Eventually, Toph starts to learn to trust the members of the Gaang and this is a step in the right direction. She's literally making friends for the first time in her life I'm so proud of her.

However, I was genuinely upset when Toph's life changing field trip with Zuko didn't work out. When Toph was trying to connect with Zuko and he blew her off (I'm not blaming him tho they had shit to do), I couldn't help but remember the rejection Toph suffered from Lao.

Post canon, Toph continues to try and prove herself, starting a metalbending school and training new metalbenders.

She also reconciles with her father. Not before Lao disowns he rmultiple times and calls her a rude, ungrateful thing. And while he eventually comes to understand Toph and cherish her, that type of trauma sticks with you.

So it's no wonder really that Toph, someone who went her entire childhood seemingly without even speaking to someone her age, would have trouble forming connections. She has children with two different men, neither of which seem to stick around.

Toph tries to do right by her daughters and gives them the freedom she never got. Sadly, the pendulum swung too far to the other side, since it seems that she started to neglect her daughters, which led to them developing a sleugh of issues of their own.

Toph becomes the cheif of police, which kind of makes sense. Republic City was only slowly emerging as an actual metropolis. Toph took on a role as a protector, and probably as a way to prove herself. But as Republic City grew, Toph probably realised that she became something she hated. A cog in the machine, and started to despise her job.

Searching for a semblance of the freedom and happiness her travels afforded her in her childhood, Toph leaves the city and takes up the life of a hermit in a swamp. She managed to fix her relationship with Suyin to some extent, but still seems reluctant or simply unable to connect with her daughter or grandchildren. Since she apparently hasn't seen Opal, a grown 20 year old woman since she was a little girl.

On the surface old Toph doesn't seem terribly dissimilar to young Toph, still tough and spunky. But she is more jaded, depressed and pessimistic. She comes out to save Suyin from immediate harm and manages to somewhat reconcile with Lin, but then she fucks right back off to the swamp where she seems to literally hide until Wu and Korra straight up force her to come with them.

Toph's story began with her alone and it seems to end with her alone as well. It's a story of a girl who grew up isolated and handled by others, and was woefully unprepared for the real world, which only jaded her further. She lives with the guilt of fucking up her daughters' lives and a belief in the pointlessness of life.

Toph started off longing to experience the world and ended up willingly isolating herself from it.

If that isn't a tragedy, I'm not sure what is.

Mind you, this is not the trauma olympics. I'm not saying that Toph has suffered more than Katara or that Katara's trauma is not as valid as Toph's. Katara and Toph's experiences are completely different, Katara being a victim of genocide and war, Toph being a victim of child abuse. I'm just saying that, objectively, Katara had a happier 'ending' than Toph.