#not next chapter but maybe in like. three chapters

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight

anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333

you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.

it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.

drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.

you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.

the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.

“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.

there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.

“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”

“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”

“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”

“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.

you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”

gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.

you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.

“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”

“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.

you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.

“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.

“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”

libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”

you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”

and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.

when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.

theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.

“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”

roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.

“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.

she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”

“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.

you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.

you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.

drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”

you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.

libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.

she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.

“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.

after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”

you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”

libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”

the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.

it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.

fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.

and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.

“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”

“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.

when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.

“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.

you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.

drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.

you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.

and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.

you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.

you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.

after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.

there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.

you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.

“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”

“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”

“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.

“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.

“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.

and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.

you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.

you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?

you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.

you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.

the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.

you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.

drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.

“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”

you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.

he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.

“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”

he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”

you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.

he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”

you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.

“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”

he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”

there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”

what?

you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .

his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”

“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”

“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.

he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”

you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.

“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”

your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”

you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”

his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”

you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?

you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.

“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."

he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.

“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”

you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.

“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”

you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.

he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”

the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”

his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”

you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.

you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.

you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.

and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.

you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.

toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”

the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.

his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.

his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”

you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.

you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.

you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?

“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.

finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.

“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.

he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”

“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.

he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”

your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.

you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.

after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”

he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.

“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.

“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.

he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”

and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

[yazthebookish]

Maybe I'll spoil you guys and talk about Gwynriel and ACOTAR5 and anything related to it overall. I recently finished my HOFAS reread and have some fresh thoughts. I'll let my thoughts guide me and some of these points I've already addressed in my insta stories yesterday. I just rather share a lengthy post here since I'll only tag under #gwynriel.

I often see arguments about how Gwyn and Azriel can't move the plot forward because the series is centered on the Archeron sisters.

First, that's not true because Sarah is following what she called "a traditional romance route". She's following the same patterns of Nalini Singh, Kresley Cole, and Lisa Kleypas where they publish multiple books in the same series following different couples.

This is fitting for a series like ACOTAR because it's romance-centered. And Sarah have already said that each couple is getting one book and there will likely be more books beyond ACOTAR6.

Saying that doesn't dismiss the importance of the sisters to the story, Feyre already has a trilogy centered on her. The spin-off just follows different characters including the sisters.

I won't try hard to convince people on this because I've already posted almost everything Sarah said about the spin-off series and what's it's about. So if the next book is not centered on an Archeron sister, that's for Sarah to bamboozle the fandom with.

One thing that stuck out to me is when I compared the ending of ACOSF with the scene of Bryce giving Nesta Gwydion and seeming like she left Nesta with a new quest.

First, this is what the text says, and this is Chapter 80, the very last chapter in ACOSF:

Succeeding in the Blood Rite didn't mean the training stopped. No, after she and her friends told Cassian and Azriel most of the details of their ordeal, the two commanders had compiled a long list of mistakes that the three of them had made that needed to be corrected, and the others wanted to learn from them, too. So they would keep training, until they were all well and truly Valkyries. Gwyn, despite the Rite, had returned to living in the library.

1. The Valkyries are not yet a unit.

2. SJM only and specifically highlighted that Gwyn, despite the Rite, returned to living in the library. It was like "hey, remember all the talk Gwyn did about wanting to leave the library after two years? Yeah that's on hold a bit but keep that in mind". She didnt even add Emerie or the other priestesses to that sentence.

With Nesta being left with Gwydion to find out why the 8-pointed star was tattooed on her, I don't think the next book will start with "hey Elain take this sword and deal with it". Who are Nesta's main companions now? Gwyn and Emerie.

I'll be back to the Valkyries but let's just talk about Azriel for a bit.

It is so painfully obvious to me that Azriel is being handed the Illyrian plot on a golden platter. How big or small of a plot it is depends on SJM, but it's important based on the fact that she fleshed out the Illyrian's origins and tied them to the crossover AND making Truth-teller the knife of Enalius.

That is a big deal for an Illyrian like Azriel.

And I quote my friend Lacie on this, it is very poetic for Azriel to be the owner of the knife that originally belonged to the person who freed his own people from the Daglan's clutches, perhaps because he saw his people are more than just slaves to the Daglan—how powerful would it be for Azriel, who loathes his own people, to parallel Enalius.

And for years some people were against Azriel dealing with this plot because he shouldn't make peace with his "abusers", its true his own family and some Illyrians failed him but he is condemning an entire population. Good people like Emerie and Balthazar. Even Rhys's mother, who had valid reasons to hate her people especially as a female, still made sure to make Rhysand connect with his Illyrian heritage and he even goes on to say that his mother didn't forget what they did to her but still loved her people.

If both Cassian and Rhysand (and by extension the author) continue to flag Azriel's hatred of the Illyrians as an issue—then it is a damn big issue for it to be addressed repeatedly.

Okay so to address my final point about Gwyn and Azriel and how they can move the plot forward.

Now I didn't detail out much about what the next book will deal with because that's another post (and I already have a post on that).

All of our theories and predictions are based on information that is available to us. Saying Azriel and Gwyn cannot move the plot forward does not make any sense because the central plot is tied to multiple characters, Archeron or not.

If SJM wants to make a character move the next book's plot forward, she can do it because she's in control of the story. She's in control of the narrative. She's in control of the characters.

The characters are puppets and this is an unfinished story. If some characters would add more value and make for a more interesting story before the others, she can decide on that. If she wants to make Eris the protagonist of the next book, she can easily do that whether the fandom wants it or not.

Let me give you an example of minor characters that pushed the plot forward and became main characters: Yrene Towers and the Hind. These kind of arguments could've been used for them in HOEAB or HOSAB and Pre-TOD. Before HOSAB/HOFAS and TOD, could we have predicted that they would have played a crucial role before those books? Not likely because they had minimal appearances and were not part of the main cast. This is what I'm talking about.

You can't know how a character will contribute to a story until you see how it all unfolds. We can make guesses on the information we have which is why I believe three characters are likely to join the main cast: Gwyn, Emerie, and Eris.

Why is it so easy to accept that Emerie might be sharing a book with an original character like Mor but it's hard to comprehend the fact that Gwyn could also share a book with Azriel? Because Emerie showed up in ACOFAS? To me that's not really a strong argument based on Sarah's writing and what we have in the books, she doesn't really pick based on who showed up the earliest. Here's a good example: Hypaxia, who showed up earlier, didn't even get her own chapters but the Hind did.

And there's one argument I recall about how I need to rely on Nesta to have a plot focused on Gwyn or the Valkyries in the next book. Nesta's arc is clearly not over based on HOFAS, but does that mean she's getting a POV? Not necessarily. I don't think she is. Gwyn is the perfect candidate for us to see what's going on with Nesta post-HOFAS and how they all deal with the Valkyries and whatever Sarah will set up with them.

There is this whole Valkyrie/Illyrian conflict that could be triggered as a result of the Blood Rite, with Ramiel definitely being an important location to explore in the next book, we also have the Pegasi and the Prison and the implications of the crossover. It makes sense to have an Illyrian and a Valkyrie POV to deal with some plots in the next book.

"Gwyn contributes to nothing" we can't know until the book is out. How sure are we that maybe SJM won't connect her to the crossover by making her mysterious father a Worldwalker? Or Prince of Hel? Or an Asteri? Maybe I'm right maybe I'm wrong.

"But Koschei! And the Human Queens!" Koschei will always be a background player pulling on the strings until the final book as it's obvious he is the big bad in the series, unless someone even worse is revealed. But no one is dismissing Koschei or the Human Queens messing around.

Literally what's the point of the story or the fun elements of surprises or plot twists if you need Sarah to list down everything that the next books will deal with. That's not how a story develops to me. I don't need to know everything in advance to just know how it will go. That's like knowing spoilers early on and checking off with each book what happened and what didn't happen. I feel like it's close to how a lot of readers were disappointed with not having enough ACOTAR in HOFAS, because Sarah implied half of the book would be set in Prythian. So by the time the book came out and it wasn't that, people were vocal about it.

In my opinion, SJM set a good foundation for Gwyn's arc to build up on in ACOSF and her arc is not over. We won't get mentions of her still carrying the guilt of her sister's death or not leaving the library after she said she's sick of being there for two years without us seeing resolution for that. She wouldn't be in Azriel's bonus chapter if she is not involved with him.

To conclude, my reread still affirms to me that the next book with an Azriel/Gwyn book. Azriel is clearly being set in the forefront.

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Turning Point" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, dark themes implied, oral (male receiving), body piercings, cum-eating, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour 📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune 📍AN: As a birthday gift to me (9-24) I am posting this hecka early. But also annoucing that there will not be another CIY posting until after October (most likely. who knows, i might get impatient myself) as ill be focusing on Kinktober and some fics i have planned for October! There are 6 chapters left (roughly) so please enjoy <3

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Three weeks. Three weeks had gone by and you had to admit, you missed them. Well, some of them. Wooyoung’s incessant need for you. San and his flirting- his dimples. Yeosang’s cute little lisp and the sound of him tapping away on his keyboard. Hell you even missed hearing Mingi fuck others and keeping you awake at night. You might even miss Jongho’s constant scowl in your presence.

Seonghwa had been taking you to and from the club every night, five nights a week, and would tell you to rest the other two. You wouldn’t come into the office but now you wanted to. Maybe then you could do something about this odd bundle of emotions in your stomach. Yeosang sent you instructions on how to fill out a report of your undercover work on the program he installed in your laptop, which automatically stored the vital information and categorized and compared it with the rest. So in short, now you couldn’t even tell them about the new rumors you’ve picked up at the club.

At least now you knew why they were so busy, far too busy for you. The Vipers and the Wolves were still at each other’s throat, fucking up cash grabs, stealing product, or raiding known businesses of the other. San told you he was cleared to head back to fighting soon, and it worried you that the Wolves would hit the fighting ring while he was there.

But, what could you do about it? Undercover work was something that took months to years to gain enough influence to make a difference. You were nothing more than a fly on the wall gathering information, searching for weaknesses to use against the big players. A slip up that could get them behind bars.

Once more you thought of the dead boy in the alley. Once more you pictured someone else as that dead body. And once more you realized that, as a detective, there was nothing you could do to prevent that. It was a frustrating feeling.

And that’s why you found yourself heading to the gym on your next free day, ready to punch the frustration out or work up enough of a sweat that your muscles would be screaming at you until tomorrow.

It was a nice sweet surprise to find Hongjoong there, working on one of the machines, a thin sheen of sweat coating his bare arms and calves. He was wearing a hat, black tank and black gym shorts with an airpod in as he was chatting with someone. He didn’t notice you at first, but when you got close enough to hear his conversation, you frowned at how quick he hung up when he did notice you. “I’ll call you back later.” The weights dropped as he let go of the handles to turn the call off, shifting to look up at you with a bright and charming smile despite your deepening frown. “Firecracker, lovely to see you here.”

“Cut the bullshit” you weren’t having it today. Had the three weeks away changed something? Had your observations just been wishful thinking? Why was he hiding things from you? They still didn’t trust you fully did they? Ah, that hurt. Hongjoong seemed to catch on by your tone and stance, the smile softening to something more genuinely welcoming. “It was San, he was giving me an update on the Vipers I-” “Am I not allowed to hear what you had to say?” You cut him off, still staring him down. You shouldn’t be getting so worked up, you really shouldn’t.

But Hongjoong seemed good at reading you, reaching out and holding his hand palm up. “Would it ease your mind to know what is going on? What he was telling me? Or can I ask you to trust me on this, and you can learn all about it later?” You stared at his hand for a moment, eyes running up his arm to the tattoos that covered his bicep. Briefly you glanced at the ink before meeting his eyes. “It’s a delicate matter?” You decided to ask, arms uncrossing to rest at your sides. “Yes. The war they have going on is turning into a bloodbath.” He didn’t elaborate, just smiled wider when you did take his hand finally. Gently he pulled you closer.

Relaxing a bit further, you let him. He didn’t need to explain, because you realized what he meant. The Vipers were losing everything, and the Wolves would take what they could from them. Killing, maiming, or selling off each member or even associate. “I see… what are we doing about it?” He lifted a brow at your choice of words, pulling you right between his knees and holding both of your hands. You don’t know why he insisted on this sort of touch, but you didn’t mind one bit. “Nothing we can do. We can’t pull San out safely, but there isn’t a way we can stop the Wolves either. Not without risking more. Did you come here to blow off some steam? Worried about him?” Slowly you nodded, staring at your joined hands. “I don’t want to punch anything, just not think. The Boas don’t care much for either, but I hear how ruthless the Wolves are. They’re scared of them much more than the Vipers and-” Your words were cut off as he pulled you onto his lap. “Captain?” “How do you think San can get out of this unscathed? I’m worried too, Firecracker, and even if we can’t do much, it’s better to have some hope that something can happen to save him. Right?” He was comforting you, wasn’t he? The notion had your cheeks warming, mind shifting to the question. With everything you knew, what needed to happen for San to be truly safe from the Wolves? “I… well the Vipers are no match for the Wolves alone but if they had help… then San’s chances of- well you know. The Guardians are the only ones who can stop the Wolves, but I don’t see how they would get involved. Not unless this war causes significantly more damage, or they believe it will.” Your original thought was the Guardians getting rid of the Wolves anyways. After all, the more you learned about them, the more you realized that the biggest, scariest monster out there was the Wolves. The Vipers would be easier to take down, same with the Goblins. The Golden Circle could just be bought out, most of them just greedy cowards. And the Guardians and Pirates? They cared more for regulation to an extent than chaos.

The Wolves enjoy being cruel for cruelty’s sake. Sadists, killers, men who wanted to see the world burn and wanted to be the hands responsible for it. People were toys to them. Ones they wanted to break and use any way they saw fit.

You’d rather see San with his busted lip and black eye from a fight in the ring rather than the possible torture the Wolves would put him through. “The Wolves won’t stop until every last Viper is dead or turned to them or sold. I’d rather the Vipers win, and that can't happen without the Guardians. Either working together or the Guardians step in to apply pressure to the Wolves to back them off.” Hongjoong’s sudden bright smile threw you off and you were on your feet in a second. “What?” He chuckled, just to pull you back down with enough force you tumbled into him, hands on his chest and lips suddenly on his. He swallowed up your squeak, pulling you fully onto his lap as his tongue sought yours. You hadn’t expected it, but he tasted so good that you didn’t want to pull away. Yet as soon as melted into him, he was separating your mouths. “You really are a genius, I think. That’s something we never thought of.” You blushed at his compliment, staring up at him as his fingers carded through your hair. “What ideas did you have?” “Ones that involved what the Vipers alone could do, or we as detectives. Sometimes we forget to take a step back and see all this from a different angle.” “I see… but can we really do anything like that?” He shrugged. “We could have Wooyoung or San suggest it. If the Vipers are smart, and want to survive, they’ll latch onto that idea hopefully before it’s too late.” Pride swelled through you, as well as respect. Hongjoong did respect you, to go from easing your worries, to turning your thoughts into something productive, and then backing your idea as an equal. All while he was kissing you, touching you, melting you in his arms like you were his lover.

“Captain-” “Please call me Hongjoong, or something like that outside the office. Especially when you’re in my arms like this.” He stopped you, arm tightening on your waist while his other hand massaged your scalp a bit. He chuckled at the pleased sound you made at the touch.

“H-Hongjoong… did Seonghwa- ah Hwa- tell you about…” You trailed off, eyelids getting heavy the more you relaxed in his embrace. He nodded. “S-so you know how much this means to me?” “I do, Firecracker. And he told you how things work, and his unofficial invitation?” When you nodded, his hand tightened in your hair enough to pull an unexpected moan from your lips. “I’m going to take how pliant you are in my arms as an acceptance of that if you keep this up. Wooyoung might be the most vocal about his desire for you, but I feel it just as intensely.” Your hands gripped his tank tightly, lips parted as you enjoyed the way he was getting a bit rough with your hair. Massage, then tug. Smooth then tug harder. “Then why pull me onto your lap?” “To treasure you, though I didn’t think you would let me.” He admitted, shifting you on his thighs a bit until you could feel his hard on against the side of your thigh. “Yeosang is going to get another show at this rate.” Laughing under your breath softly, you shifted on his lap. “Good. I’m not too happy about him telling you all about San and Chan. He likes to watch and then run his mouth to you all? I should show him what he’s going to miss because he’s always hiding behind those screens.” Detaching yourself from Hongjoong, you stood back up between his legs, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders to card your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck, just under the cap. Latching your lips onto his to keep him from questioning you, your mind wandered to Yeosang and the expressions he made when he had been watching you and Wooyoung. Would he make those now? Better yet… What expressions would Hongjoong make?

With your lips still attached, brushing over his soft ones, letting him chase yours with each stroke, your hands ran down his chest. His shirt stuck to him with damp sweat, muscles tensing under your fingertips: first over his pecs, which had a nice curve to them, and then over his stomach. The lower they got, the more desperate his lips on yours.

The sound he made, the breathy whine as you cupped his sizable bulge in his shorts, turned you on even more. So eager to see just how far you could push him.

In a way, this was your first time initiating with them. As you slipped down onto your knees, palming at his hardening cock through the material of his shorts, you acknowledged the fact he hadn’t asked for this, or done much to make you want him: you just wanted him, and wanted to do this. Wooyoung had begged and begged. And Mingi had wanted to prove to you how much he wanted you. You just let them have the opportunity, reaping the ecstasy they gave you. And as much as you loved taking what they had to offer, you wanted to give back as well. In particular to the man before you. The man who was trying so hard not to pull your hair too much. Who was gripping the seat beneath him as his hips rolled up into your hands, pretty lips parted and swallowed from your kisses.

If Hongjoong had turned you away, or tried to block you at every turn like you had expected him to do before meeting him, you wouldn’t have this growing warmth in your heart at every thought of them. The swell of pride at your ongoing work. You wouldn’t have a confidant in San and Seonghwa. Wouldn’t have the eager lovers Wooyoung and Mingi. The witty banter of Yunho and Yeosang.

And perhaps, pressing your lips to where you could feel his tip twitching beneath the material, you wanted to convince them that they had to have you, just as you had to have them.

Selfish, greedy, maybe a little manipulative: that’s what you thought of yourself as you pulled his shorts down enough to expose his cock, staring up at him with a question in your eyes. 

Maybe you were all those things, but it was worth it as he tightened his hold on your strands significantly and pulled you against his cock, smearing the bit of precum and sweat on your lips and cheek, pleading with you. “Take what you want, gorgeous, I’m yours to use.”

How could you deny him- deny yourself- when he looked so delectable like this? 

Taking the invitation for what it was, your tongue ran up his length as your hands worked his pants down further. His words rang in your head, the adoration mixed with lust in his expression adding to the pit of emotions coursing through you.

With your lips wrapping around his tip, eyes focused on his expression, you marveled at the warm metal now clicking against your teeth. Quickly you pulled away and glanced down, breath hitching at the metal bar on the underside of his tip, right through the soft flesh in between the twi curves of his hood. “Oh fuck-” Mingi and him? Different places but you could remember how the piercing felt… if you took Hongjoong inside, you’d feel the metal scraping against your walls and the thought had you dripping in your underwear.

Wanting him to want that just as much, you took him back in your mouth, humming as you quickly took as much of him as you could. His eyes rolled back momentarily, breath hitching and fingers curling in your hair. He could fuck your mouth right now and you’d let him.

You’d let him do a lot of things if he continued to let out sweet whines like the one that just fell from his pretty lips. He wasn’t small, but definitely not Mingi’s size. But Hongjoong never needed size to get his point across, or for you to notice him- there was much more about him and the man utilized that to command a room and gain a grip on anyone he wished. 

Right now you were the one in his grip, both figuratively and literally, as you pushed his shorts down and spread his thighs wider. Shuffling a bit closer, you took more of him in, humming around his cock once more as it hit the back of your throat, nose so close to his pelvis, but you managed. The sweat didn’t bother you, neither did the feel of the hard floor under your knees, not when he seemed to be unraveling at your touch. You were enjoying him so much you swore you could suck him off for hours without a reprieve. So what if your throat was sore? If you were tasting his cum and sweat for hours after with every drink and food you devoured? Pressing your tongue up as you pulled off his length, sure to add even more pressure to the piercing and was rewarded with a whiny moan as his body reacted: hips bucking and hand tightening in your hair to hold you still.

Oh so it made him sensitive?

Bobbing your head back down, taking as much of his length as you felt comfortable with, you focused more attention on his tip. Every time you pulled away you added pressure, letting your teeth scrape against it or twisting your head just enough as you pushed back down.

Hongjoong was noisy, between high pitched pants, to low curses under his breath, his fingers in your hair a give away to what he liked best. You used that to your advantage, nails digging into the inside of his thighs when you realized he liked that.

“Ah- fuck- gorgeous- Gunna make me- mmm fuck fuck~” His head kept rolling back but he would push forward to watch you as much as he could, mouth hanging open, teeth clenching in little hisses of pleasure. You hummed and moaned around his cock, picking up pace and pressure as your own need was clouding your thoughts. Have him cum first then maybe you could convince him to fuck you in the showers.

Your nails dug into his thighs more when he started pushing you, just slightly as if guiding, down on his cock. His head rolled back again, moans gaining volume as your name and praise joined the sweet sounds.

In awe of him you nearly choked when his thick cum hit the back of your throat in spurts. You pushed away a bit, lips still latched onto his twitching tip as he emptied his pretty balls on your tongue.

He lifted his head once he was spent, panting heavily and meeting your gaze. He slipped out of your mouth with a loud pop, your tongue lolling out to show the bit of cum still pooled there before you made a show of swallowing it.

“Fuck, Firecracker… I didn’t expect you to do this.” He smoothed out your hair, your scalp a little sensitive from how hard his grip had been.

Smiling, you rested your head on the inside of his knee, smoothing over the crescent marks you had made with your nails and admiring the piercing on his softening cock. “I wanted to. Wanted to show I want you too. I know I wasn’t as… vocal about it. Maybe with work but not in this way.” You tilted your head to look up at him, licking your lips and still tasting him on them. “If you have time… would the showers be private enough? I think Yeosang got enough of a show.” He chuckled, pushing the hair out of your face before gently tapping your cheek. “I should. Stand up for me?” 

Once you did you watched as he pulled up his underwear and shorts. Now you had a moment to admire the work on his arm, you liked learning about them and most people got tattoos that represented a part of them. Plus, tattoos were big in the underworld, often a way to show your rank or who you belonged to.

You noted a few portraits, black rimmed hats and masks, the eyes sharp. There were eight, you counted, surrounded by waves with… with a pirate boat detailed on the upper part of his arm. 

He called your name, moving just as you took note of a few letters on his arm. Sex was no longer on your mind, your brow furrowed as your mouth fell open to speak the first question that formed instead.

But the words were overshadowed by an alarm ringing through the gym and Hongjoong cursing. “Fuck- there’s an emergency.” He quickly pecked your cheek. “Head back to your apartment and wait for a call? I’ll let you know when everything’s okay.” He started grabbing his other things, but you were in shock.

The alarm turned off once he was gone but you were still rooted in place.

From the letters you had been able to make out, two of them had been “B” and “P”, just like Mingi had. 

Were they part of the Black Pirates? Were they… the enemy?

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (PART ELEVEN)

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 3,5K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, angst, talking about feelings

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

*Saturday, April 6th*

It was early in the morning when Oscar found himself seated in the meeting room. He wasn't alone, you, Zak & Sophie from the media team where there too. It was time for Oscar to get introduced to the one girl he absolutely did not want to meet. The one he was supposed to fake a relationship with.

The reason as to why you were there too, was Zak. He said something about it being important that you would meet the girl too, considering Oscar and you spend a lot of time together being his trainer. Zak pointed out that it would be practical for you to know some of the ins and outs as well.

Oscar looked around the room, his eyes landing on you, pressing his lip together. Almost as if he was silently apologizing to you, trying to not be obvious about the hidden knowledge between the two of you.

It was then when the door opened, a man and a woman walking in. She looked kind, she actually did. She was tall, skinny, had a slightly tanned skin & long brown locks. You could easily tell they tried to find someone with similar features to you, probably to make it more believable that it was her in those leaked pictures. She was pretty, very pretty. In your opinion, a lot more beautiful than you were. It stung a little, if you were being honest with yourself.

Oscar felt bad for you, for himself, but also for the other girl. Wondering if something similar brought her into this as well.

Zak's eyes lit up, a professional smile spreading across his lips. He stood up from his seat, gesturing to the man and woman to take a seat.

"Oscar, Sophie, Y/n, this is Ava, the lovely lady we told you about" he started, looking briefly at the lady. His eyes then shifted to the man next to her "And this is her manager, Liam" he continued.

Ava smiled kindly at all of you, first leaning over the table to hold her hand out to Oscar. He shook her hand and send her a polite smile "Nice to meet you, I'm Oscar, but you probably already knew that" he said, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

The brunette returned a smile "Likewise" she spoke, before moving her attention over to Sophie, introducing herself to her as well, before shifting her attention to you.

She held out her hand, her nails perfectly manicured. When you took her hand and shook it. She send you a smile.

"Nice to meet you!" you weakly spoke, your tone kind, but laced with an uncertainty "I'm Y/n, I'm Oscar's trainer and physio"

"That's lovely" she spoke with an honest smile.

"So, Liam and I have already talked a bit about what could be a plan" Sophie started, clearly not the one to have came up with this fake dating plan. She sounded as if she only said these things, because she had to.

Liam nodded, a smile on his face "We were thinking it might be a good start for Ava to be in the McLaren motorhome tomorrow during the grand prix. Maybe wearing something that's Oscar's, like a bracelet" he started, his attention shifting to Ava "Then maybe after the race, we could arrange for Oscar to walk by you briefly, maybe brushing your hands or him quickly hugging before he walks on?"

Oscar looked at Sophie and Liam, his breath catching in his throat. Not in a good way, but in a way that made him realize how real this all was getting "Y-Yeah.. sure"

Ava nodded "Sure, I think that could work"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

Oscar sat on the edge of the small couch in his driver's room, hands clasped loosely in his lap as he glanced at Ava. She was perched on the other end, her posture relaxed but attentive. Her kind smile didn't quite reach her eyes, though, and Oscar could tell she was just as unsure about this arrangement as he was.

"So," he started, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "This is... definitely a strange situation to be in."

Ava let out a soft laugh, nodding. "You can definitely say that, yes. It's not every day you agree to fake date someone you barely know."

Oscar's lips twitched into a small, half-hearted smile. "True. I mean, I get why it's necessary, but it's still... weird." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Did you get into this in the same way?"

She tilted her head, considering his question. "Something like that. It's complicated, I guess."

Oscar nodded, his mind flashing to the conversation with his manager, the pressure of the rumors swirling around him and you. But he didn't want to get into all that. Not with Ava, not yet.

"Yeah, I get that," he said, leaning back a little. "I'm sure we both have our reasons for agreeing to this."

Ava's smile softened. "I'm not really one for drama, to be honest. But sometimes you just have to play along, right?"

Oscar chuckled lightly. "Yeah, exactly. I'm not a fan of all this PR stuff, either. But, I guess it's part of the job sometimes."

They shared a brief, understanding look, the tension between them easing slightly. Ava shifted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "So, how do you want to play this?"

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "Well, we don't have to overdo it. Just enough to make it believable. We can show up together to events, act friendly—like we're getting to know each other. I don't think anyone expects us to be all over each other."

"Agreed," Ava said, relief in her voice. "I think we should just be ourselves, but maybe add a bit more... I don't know, closeness? Like we're actually interested in each other."

Oscar nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. We don't want it to look obviously fake."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the awkwardness from earlier gradually fading. Oscar found himself relaxing a bit more around her. She was easy to talk to, and he appreciated her straightforwardness. Though she was not you.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Ava asked, her tone light but curious.

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, this is a first for me. Feels a bit like acting, doesn't it?"

Ava laughed softly. "Yeah, but without a script. We'll have to improvise."

"I'm not great at improvising," Oscar admitted with a playful grin.

"Well, good thing I'm here then, perks of being an actress" Ava teased gently. "I'll cover for you."

"Thanks," he said, his smile growing. "I appreciate that."

They lapsed into another easy silence, and Oscar found himself feeling grateful that Ava wasn't making this harder than it needed to be. Despite the odd circumstances, she seemed genuinely kind, and that put him at ease.

"Let's just take it one step at a time," Ava said finally. "We'll figure this out."

"Yeah," Oscar agreed. "One step at a time."

As they sat there, sharing a quiet moment in the midst of all the chaos outside, Oscar couldn't help but think that maybe this wouldn't be so bad. As long as he could keep things clear between them—and with the reader—he could get through this. And, with any luck, things would settle down soon enough.

After that they spend some time getting to know each other, just so it wouldn't be awkward when they would have to do interviews. He learned that Ava was 22 years old and born in Australia, but moved to the UK at a young age, something Oscar and her had in common. Ava told Oscar that she had started acting when she was just a kid, so she kinda rolled her way in it when she was young.

Oscar, on his turn, told her about his hobbies outside of F1. He told her about you. Explaining that you have been best friends for a while, leaving out the detail of your feelings for each other. Not wanting to break his promise to you.

"She's the girl you hooked up with according to the media, right?" she asked, honestly interested.

Oscar stayed silent, but did give her a soft nod.

"That explains the awkward look you both had in the meeting" she replied with a laugh "Let me guess, shit-faced drunk?"

Oscar laughed "Pretty much covers it, yes" he stated, scratching the back of his neck.

Ava send him a compassionate smile, folding her hands in her lap "So, let me get this straight" she started, a chuckle leaving her lips "The girl you kissed is not only your trainer, she's also your best friend. And to top it off, she's also your teammates sister"

Oscar shrugged "Yep"

"Yeah, that makes it all a whole lot more complicated" she laughed.

Ava then leaned back on the couch a little, looking back up at Oscar "Before I forget to ask. Liam mentioned that it maybe would be smart to discuss our boundaries. You know, considering the things we have to do. Affectionate wise"

Oscar looked back at the other Aussie, then shifting his gaze to his lap. Time for the awkward stuff, he thought.

"I'm fine with anything to be honest, I'm used to it all considering my job. So if you're up for it, I'm fine with kissing, if that helps convince the public eye"

Oscar felt a tight knot forming in his stomach as Ava brought up the topic of boundaries. He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt as he avoided her gaze. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be convincing in this whole fake dating scenario—it was just that every time he thought about doing anything more than the basics, guilt hit him like a punch to the gut. Your face flashed in his mind, and he swallowed hard.

“Yeah, um,” he started, voice a little shaky, “I guess we should talk about that.”

Ava nodded, her expression calm and open. “I know this is weird, and I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea of putting on a show either, but if we’re going to do this, we should be on the same page.”

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m… I’m kind of socially awkward, to be honest. I mean, I’m fine with doing some stuff, like, a hug or holding hands maybe. A kiss on the cheek is okay too, I guess. But anything more than that—” He hesitated, his heart thudding in his chest. “I just… I don’t know.”

Ava tilted her head slightly, her eyes gentle. “That’s fine, Oscar. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. This whole thing is just acting, right? We can take it slow, one step at a time.”

He glanced at her, grateful for her understanding. But even as she spoke, he couldn’t help but feel like he was betraying you. You hadn’t exactly defined what you were, but the thought of pretending to be with someone else, even just for show, made his chest ache.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, looking down at his lap. “It’s just… complicated, you know?”

Ava seemed to pick up on his unease, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, I get it. Really. But you can trust me, okay? I’m not here to make things harder for you. We’ll go at your pace. And if it ever gets too much, just let me know, and we’ll dial it back.”

Her words were sincere, and he found himself relaxing a little, but the nagging feeling of guilt still lingered. He knew she was right—it was just acting, and it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, the idea of kissing Ava, even if it was just for show, felt wrong. Like he was betraying something fragile and precious between the two of you.

“But, if you’re up for it,” Ava continued cautiously, “a real kiss could help sell it. But only if you’re okay with it. We don’t have to, Oscar. Not if you don’t want to.”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew she was just trying to be professional about the whole thing, but it still felt like a rock was sitting on his chest. “I know, it probably is… I just have to think about it, I guess. It’s not that I don’t want to be convincing, it’s just—”

“You’re not comfortable with it,” Ava finished for him gently. “That’s okay. We can stick to hugs, holding hands and kissing each others cheek.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, giving her a weak smile. “I appreciate that.”

"I just suggested it, since in the pictures that got leaked, it all seemed pretty intense. So I thought, that might sell it a little better, but.." Ava smiled back, her eyes soft. “We’ll figure this out, Oscar. Just remember, this is all for show. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He nodded, though he couldn’t quite shake the unease. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he also couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him. He needed to tread carefully, not just for the sake of the act, but for the sake of whatever it was between you and him. And maybe, just maybe, he could get through this without messing everything up.

"I gotta go now, tho. Liam needed me for something around this time" Ava spoke as she looked at her phone, her voice soft and understanding.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks again" Oscar replied, not moving from his spot on the couch.

Ava stood up, but not before bending down over the couch, kissing Oscar gently on his cheek "Well, see you later, boyfriend" she said, before sending him a cheeky wink and leaving the room.

*Later that day*

A few hours had passed, and you found yourself sprawled out on the couch in Lando's hotel room. The evening had been spent in casual conversation with your brother over dinner, discussing random topics that flitted in and out of your minds. But now, the silence in the room was thick, heavy with unspoken words. Lando had noticed your shift in behavior, the way you’d grown quieter, more introspective, and it was starting to concern him.

He watched you carefully, his brow furrowed with worry. The quiet stretched on, and eventually, he broke it, his voice gentle but insistent. “You know you can always talk to me if something’s bothering you, right? That’s what big brothers are for,” he pointed out, his eyes soft as they searched your face for a clue.

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting away from his. The guilt gnawed at you, the weight of the secret you’d been keeping pressing down on your chest. Lando knew some things, sure, but he didn’t know the whole truth about you and Oscar. The part where you and Oscar had crossed that line from friends to something more, something you hadn’t been ready to share with anyone else yet. And keeping that from Lando, of all people, made you feel terrible.

“You’ve just been different,” Lando continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, tinged with the slightest hint of disappointment. “You’re so silent. Normally, you always tell me everything. Is it the whole fake-dating thing that Oscar has to do?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a pang of anxiety ripple through you. “No?” The word slipped out, but it sounded more like a question than the firm denial you wished it could be.

Lando rolled his eyes, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. “Who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?” he pointed out, leaning back slightly as he observed you with that perceptive gaze of his.

You sighed deeply, sinking into the couch in defeat. There was no point in pretending anymore; Lando could always see right through you. “Ugh, fine,” you huffed, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “To answer your question... Technically, no, but also yes.”

Lando raised an eyebrow at you, silently urging you to elaborate. The way he looked at you, with that mixture of concern and patience, made it even harder to keep things hidden. Another sigh escaped your lips as you met his gaze, knowing you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I get why he has to do it,” you began, your voice low and tinged with frustration. “The reasoning behind it makes sense. Besides, it means nothing—it’s just a business deal.”

Lando nodded slowly, waiting for you to continue. He could sense there was more, much more, that you needed to get off your chest.

“But…” you trailed off, your voice catching in your throat. You hesitated, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. Admitting it out loud made it all too real, and that terrified you. But Lando was patient, his presence steady and comforting, like an anchor you could cling to in the storm of your emotions.

“But it’s complicated,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly. “Oscar and I… We’ve been trying things. We decided to give it a shot, you know, without labels. And it felt great, Lando. It really did. But then, not even a week later, this whole fake dating thing comes up, and it just… sucks.”

Lando’s expression softened even more, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened intently. You could see the concern in his eyes, but there was also an unspoken encouragement there, urging you to keep going.

“It sucks because… because I wish things weren’t so complicated,” you continued, your hands wringing together in your lap as you struggled to put your feelings into words. “He’s your teammate, I’m your sister, and we work together. It’s already a mess. And now with this PR stunt… I can’t help but wish I could just allow myself to fully be his. But I can’t. It’s like… I’m holding myself back.”

Lando reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm, comforting, and it made you feel a little less alone in your confusion. “You’re in love with him,” he stated softly, more of a realization than a question.

You nodded, your eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “Yeah, I am. Honestly, I’m so in love with Oscar. But I’m scared, Lando. Scared of what happens if we make it real. What if it all goes wrong?”

Lando’s thumb brushed gently against your shoulder, a small gesture that carried so much understanding. “You know, sometimes things are worth the risk,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful. “If you’re both feeling this way, then it’s real, with or without a label. And sometimes, putting a label on it doesn’t change anything—it just makes it easier to define what you have.”

You looked at him, biting your lip as you considered his words. “Maybe,” you murmured, “but it’s still scary. And then there’s Zak, and the team… I just don’t want to make things harder for Oscar.”

“Have you thought about talking to Zak?” Lando suggested gently. “Maybe it wouldn’t be as big of a deal as you think. And Oscar’s strong, he can handle this. You don’t have to carry it all on your own.”

You nodded slowly, the idea swirling in your mind. Maybe Lando was right. Maybe talking to Zak could ease some of the pressure. But there was still that gnawing insecurity that wouldn’t leave you alone.

“I thought about it, but I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do. Also, the PR thing might be the solution to, you know, fix things,” you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I understand why it’s necessary, and I don’t mind it too much, not really. But it still sucks. It sucks to see the person you love having to act like that in front of the cameras with someone who’s not you. Someone who’s way prettier, someone who wouldn’t make everything so complicated.”

Lando’s eyes softened, and he squeezed your shoulder gently. “Are you afraid he’ll fall for her during this PR stunt? That you’ll lose him?”

You let out a shaky breath, the question hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “I guess I am,” you whispered. “I definitely trust him. I know he wouldn’t do anything, but… I’d understand if he did. It would be less complicated with someone like her, and besides, we don’t have any labels. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

Lando shook his head slightly, his expression firm. “Oscar is head over heels for you, sis. I’ve seen the way he looks at you—there’s no way he’d want to look at anyone else like that. Not even for a second.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the cold fears that had been gnawing at you. You took a deep breath, letting the tension in your shoulders ease just a little. “Thanks, Lando,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of gratitude.

“Anytime,” he replied, pulling you into a gentle hug. You rested your head against his shoulder, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his breathing. The conversation wasn’t easy, but it had been necessary, and now, with Lando’s support, you felt a little more prepared to face whatever came next.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff @silentreader128 @edixttor

[lotuseye]

and you look even more handsome...

satoru  gojo  and  his  special  grade  sorcerer  ex-wife  are  assigned  to  a  mission  together. part iii , trash magic.

word   count:   2779.

genre:   multi-chapter.

characters:   satoru gojo & special grade sorcerer ex wife.

trigger   warning:   none. kinda angst? as adele says: ' divorce babes, divorce! ' also kinda suggestive but lord help y'all with the next and the final chapter. a lot of yearning.

the car ride is uncomfortably silent.

it’s all familiar and all so different at the same time. the last time they had shared a car was three years ago, right after their last christmas together, before the court, before everything. she remembers him with his large hand on her thigh, soft knuckles kneading the plush flesh idly as he sang alongside to whatever that was going on the radio. his hair was shorter, and instead of the black blindfold that kept his six eyes at bay he wore the sunglasses she had stolen from time to time to try on, marvel every single time at how it was impossible to see anything at all. they were twenty-four, back then. it seemed like a lifetime ago, the memories feeling more of glimpses of a beautiful dream she once had, still craving the bittersweet taste that cursed her mouth eternally.

“ so… ” satoru, as restless as ever, taps his fingers on the steering wheel. he doesn’t drive often, rarely ever did - it was not stimulating enough for him, having grown tired of having to be glued to a seat and watch the same roads over and over again, he usually left that part to ijichi when the car was necessary. she knows why he jumped on the opportunity now, knows why he is driving at a speed that would put turtles to shame, using the slowest lane. frustrated, she sighs, keeping her gaze on the window, watching the orange rays & the setting sun. it is not the slowness that irritates her, it is how satoru simply never fucking learns, no better than a child who wants to roll on the greener side of the grass without the responsibility of tending to it whatsoever. “ what’s up? ”

the arch of her brow and the squint of her left eye is just as telling as any answer. “ what’s up? ” she repeats. “ dunno’, sweetheart. you tell me. you’re the one going on a 50 on an empty freeway. ”

“ is that a crime? ” satoru’s expression remains undecipherable, using the advantages of blindfold that covers near the good half of his face, but the subtle twitch of the corner of his mouth gives him away - he had never been good at concealment anyway, his heart on his sleeve, an outpour that would not be outdone by anything as humane as shame or embarrassment. he had not been shy a day in his life, and she often wishes that untrue, often wishes satoru would do her the grace of sparing her heart - his openness tore her open inside out, and she hated the sensation of being so naked. so bare. stripped to the core of her existence, something beyond the rare talents at the tips of her fingers. “ maybe i just missed you. ” he confesses, and it sounds like a death sentence. he glances over, and she feels the weight of the six eyes on her, suffocating. “ would that be so bad? ”

yes, yes it would be that bad. “ eyes on the road. ” she grunts, arms folded in her chest, so reserved it is difficult to remember that they had been sharing laughters like little children at tengen’s chambers an hour ago. thus was life with him, a whirlwind of emotions, a duality that dazzled her & made her nauseous with the rhythm at the same time. satoru sighs, obediently turning toward the empty freeway, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as one hand sat idle on the steering wheel. “ i just don’t understand why you’re being so dramatic, ” he confesses, more like complains, so seemingly oblivious to the reasoning of the woman that sits on his passenger seat. “ we got married, didn’t work out, we got divorced, fine, ” a mocking gesture is made, and he finds that sweet nerve in her artery. “ you don’t gotta be like that. aren’t you the one that said we could handle this like adults? ”

her left eye twitches. oh yes, now, now this whole thing feels familiar -

fighting in the car.

how nostalgic.

“ oh, you think you’re being an adult? ” here comes the poison, her voice laced with the regret of ever agreeing to get in the car and shame of thinking perhaps they could manage to be civil, perhaps even friendly - but she is proven wrong. “ is that what you’re thinking? because all i’m seeing is a child that only wants what he can’t fucking have. you don’t miss me, satoru - you miss chasing me. ” and he did, he did chase her, the way that sunflowers chased the sun, the way that the moon chased the sun, spinning in circles around her… until he had her. until the game was over. the lump in the back of her throat is truly just embarrassing at that point. it was truly sickening how the simple sight of him was enough to undo her, how he still pulled the strings of her like a puppet and its master. a twisted belonging she would never be rid of. “ you would be bored of me in a week. ”

satoru remains uncharacteristically silent. then, a sudden signal, and the four way flashers. the car is pulled into the side of the road, and she truly believes he could yank the handbreak clean off its box with the strength he pulled on it. “ wanna’ elaborate on that, baby? ” he asks, and the undercurrent of needles is simply agonizing, condescending out of rage. it’s unlike him to speak with such vigor, too contrasting to his aloof character that could not bring himself to care for anything for the love of god. at least when it came to her. “ if my memory isn’t failing me, i was the one that got served with the papers. ”

yes, yes, the poor satoru who was dumped so suddenly out of nowhere - out of nowhere except the fact that every single conversation she had ever attempted to make was brushed aside and disregarded, the nights she has slept alone, the loneliness of a household she thought she would never shed a single tear in. “ maybe if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d understand why. ” she responds, and it is so funny that this conversation is happening nearly three years after - spilling their guts out in a car that didn’t belong to them, no longer bound by a ring or a vow. “ but you can’t. you’re incapable of thinking about anyone but yourself. and i’m only mad at myself for how it took me a near decade to see that. an entire decide i could have been loved in. happy in. all fucking gone. because i was an idiot. ”

anguish contorts his beautiful features, and she gets the terrible feeling that she has said something she should not have, but the cat was out of the bag - it was easy to forget how destructive grief could be, how nasty mourning could turn out to be. chewing on the inside of her cheek, she remains silent, trying to come up with something to dissolve the tension and make them get back on the road. all that needed to be said and done were already through, they were already done. “ you don’t mean that, ” it comes out as a hoarse pleading, searching for some truth in each crevice of her face. “ you’re just pissed off. tell me you don’t mean that. ”

satoru never really wants to look, but he has to look. reaching beyond them with the familiarity of a touch that was once a privilege she had been blessed with, she finds the knot of his blindfold, and tugs it free until the silk material bunches in her palms, satoru remaining as pliant as a loyal dog, with pure disbelief in the azure gaze. her knuckles white around the fabric she bunches in her palms. “ look at me. ” she tells him, drawing a deep breath that resonates in each bone in her body. “ i have never felt as lonely as the time i was married to you in my life, do you understand that? it was unbearable. when suguru left, when you came home one day with megumi - i was there for you and you just liked that, satoru. you just liked having a shoulder to cry on. you just liked being not alone. have you ever considered how i felt? ” one hand pressing over her bosom, her palm right on top of the heart that drums against her ribs, voice unstable like the rest of her. she’s never thought she’d be saying any of this to him. “ if i needed you? if i was upset, if i was happy? i have spent the last year of that marriage thinking you would have never married me if suguru hadn’t left. ” the big bad confession. the big bad revelation. “ and you’re sitting here like i was the one that failed. ” a shaky breath, and the way she withdraws from him, from everything, shows that she had said everything she could bring herself to say in that moment. “ i’m done being scolded for an end i did not bring. you doomed us the day you kissed me. start the car. ”

she pulls herself out of the clutches of agony, having too much time to think it over and over again, in sleepless & cold nights. it’s not that easy for satoru.

“ no, ” he says, and the whisper sounds like an afterthought, a horrid dawning and an enlightenment instead of something he intends her to hear. gaze unfocused, like he is revising every single second they had together to see if it made sense, somehow. “ no, no - that’s not true, none of this is true. ” all caution and the new rules of their new game abandoned as he reaches, her pointy jaw caught in his palm to tilt her head back towards him, eyes widened with something she had never seen in them before. “ wrong, all of this - i have spent my entire life loving you, ” he chokes on it, chokes in the weight of his own emotions. “ i get it, i was a shitty husband, i failed you, i get all of that - but i can’t let you think you were a second choice or a warm body in the sheets. i won’t. i loved you, i breathed you, i lived for you. you have to know that. ”

i loved you, i breathed you, i lived for you.

she’s never really hated anyone as much as she hated him, the three years that took to mend her heart all undone with the palm that cups her jaw and the pleading love me eyes of a man that had not loved her properly a day in his life. like he was supposed to, like she wanted. she wanted his bones, his sinews, his entire bloodline to start and end with her - it only felt fair, with how much of herself she was willing to lay at his feet with the mere promise of nothing. it takes her a few blinks to realize her gaze is blurry, lips drawn into a thin line. “ why are you doing this to me? ” she asks, teetering on the edge of something she doesn’t want satoru to witness, a whole new chamber in her heart that hadn’t been opened since she left him. a closed door she had no idea what resided beyond. “ what difference does it make, when we're over? ”

he stares at her endlessly, taking in the red-rimmed eyes & the chewed out lips & the flushed red cheeks. unable to gather her courage to withstand the vulnerability of it all and the desire to win the whose dick is bigger contest, she tries to pry his hold away from herself, her bony fingers wrapped around the sinewy wrist it yank it off her jaw in futile efforts. the infinity is gone, and with the new-found silence the only thing she can hear is the heavy breathing of the man next to her. “ let me go, ” she asks him, but despite the grunting it is a plea, a near damn begging. “ let me go, satoru. you have to let me go. ” she doesn’t know if she’s still talking about his palm on her chin.

“ you think there is scenario where i ever get to be over you? ” he asks and he sounds like a dying animal more than a person, the entire conversation taking a kind of effort they could have moved mountains within’. it’s what a decade old love did to people. his hold a one of steel, bringing her closer despite her pleas. satoru was not the only one that avoided things they did not want to look at. “ you think i wake to a day where i don’t think of you, where i don’t miss you, ache for you? ” it almost comes through gritted teeth, rattling like he is holding onto the restraints. “ you can tell yourself whatever makes you feel better about leaving me, but you don’t get to look me in the eye and tell me i didn’t love you - i will love you till my dying day and i have to live with knowing you’ll never see that because you’re too goddamn stubborn. is it better this way, honey? is it better to keep lying to yourself because the truth is too heavy? ”

he’s suffocating her and there is no escape, squirming in his hold with wet cheeks & beads of tears clinging to her lashes. “ i hate you, ” she gasps out, guttural and full of resignation, no longer attempting to pry his hand away from her, instead grasping his wrist, eyes squeezed shut just to spare herself some dignity and save herself the humiliation of looking him in the face when he still pulled the strings she tried so, so hard to break.

“ i hate you, ” she repeats, and he whispers with hushing her with a soft coo, thumb collecting the droplets before they ever get to travel down her soft cheeks. “ you wish, baby. ” he murmurs, wiping her tears away and the scent of his cologne burns the back of her throat with longing. “ it’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? ” his forehead falls against hers, and the other hand of his comes to help, tucking an unruly strand behind her ear, trailing to cup the nape of her frail neck in his fingers, holding her close, and she melts on the spot, boneless as she lets him carry the weight of her head, too tired from the tension that had been pounding in her ears like a migraine.

“ i was a stupid, stupid man. ” he mumbles, nose indenting her cheek with an exhaustive sigh, warm breath mingling with hers. thumb brushes over the lip she kept biting at to tug it free from her cruel teeth, her heart skipping eight beats at once in her chest. “ to have ever sign those fucking papers, to have ever let you walk away. a moron for not treating you the way you deserved to be treated. ” and the brush of his mouth against her cheek is too subtle to be by mistake. neither is the sound that leaves her throat, half relieved and half agonized. her nails dig into his biceps through the fabric of his jacket, dizzy. “ but we all learn from our mistakes, ain’t that right, baby? ” this time, it is a blatant, outrageous kiss that he plants on her jugular. his voice is half muffled by her skin, half lost in the translation, her face easing into a dangerous kind of comfort, shedding every ounce of tension from her sharp features. “ ‘toru, ” she breathes, not being able to find the strength it would take to walk away from this, again. “ we know how this ends. ”

“ tell me you don’t want this, ” he whispers, close enough to devour her whole if he would wish so but still in the right mind enough to keep himself from indulging, to keep her begging & pleading, at the edge of something he is intentionally keeping from her. dangling the leash of her need, cruel & demanding in the same breath. “ tell me you’d walk away from me if i let you go, right now. ” he watches her, gaze heavy lidded, all his cards out on the table, a dangerous gamble. she thinks of walking out this second, pushing him away like she intended, teary eyed and hollow in the hallway.

but that’s not even an option, is it?

there is no options, there is only the proximity that unravels her and the mouth she has been forgetting the taste of. there is no decision to make: she leans forward, and kisses him the same way she hates him - with a vigor that would put animals to shame, and with devotion that could only be found in a religion.

[lailawinchesterr]

remedy (vii) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: somethings just aren't meant to be, and you can't force them— tags: underage!reader, 22-year-old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing, angst, 6k chapter (yeah, it needs a warning), daddy issues I think.

You don’t text back for two days, and he ignores you. All of a sudden, it’s ‘we need to talk’. No way, man; an idiot can see this is a breakup text if they look at it for a second too long. And you’re not stupid enough to end something that means this much to you over the phone. 

If he decides you’re boring, or you’re not it, or whatever, he can say it to your face—

Your phone is ringing.

Worst case scenario, he calls you names, best case, he says it’s not you; it’s him. Maybe switch them around?

Maybe you should change your number.

Maybe you should answer. You answer. “Sam, hey.”

“Hey, you okay? Were you asleep?” Maybe if you say yes, he’ll feel stupid breaking up with you while you are half asleep. 

“No.” You’ve never been good at lying to him. “Do you need anything?”

“Sweetheart, what’s with the silent treatment?” oh, great, now he wants to talk about it? It’s been two days, he didn’t bother then— God, what is happening to you! You’re acting like such a bitch, right now, like all the times you’ve yelled at your friends to stop being so annoying with their boyfriends, and now you’re doing the same. 

“Sorry, uh— yeah, no, I guess I was just being silly because you didn’t call when you said you would.” Your voice is so timid, you wouldn’t believe it if someone said it was you. Sam has responsibilities, such as finding his dad and taking care of Dean, and you are being petty. Fuck this whole thing, this isn't you, why are you suddenly changing around him (without him here).

“It's not silly. I just had something to take care of that night and forgot to tell you.”

“Why'd you pretend? Why not just tell me the next day?”

“I thought you forgot, I didn't wanna remind you; besides, it was one call, I didn't think you’d care.” Where in your exterior of panic did he get ‘wouldn't care’ from? Unlike Sam's tendency to just ooze nonchalance, always seeming uniquely unbothered by this entire thing, he wasn't like this when he was next to you, in fact, he used to care more about your feelings than you did.

Is this what distance is doing to the both of you? Ruining Sam's gentleness and consideration? The things you liked about him from the start? Love about him? God, it's like your parents all over again. You love your father, of course you do, he’s an incredible dad, but he was disappointing as a husband, and you fucking swore that you’d never marry someone like him, even if you’re as physically far away from marriage as possible with Sam, it doesn't mean you’re wrong for thinking of your future with him.

“Baby?”

“Right. Sorry. It isn't a problem, you're right.” You never were as strong as your mother.

“Okay, but I'll text you next time. Promise.” You nod, noticing your nose burning and your vision getting blurry for a second before you breathe. This is not worth crying over. You've always given your entire being into every relationship and lost yourself halfway through, you told Jess that this was different, that Sam was different. But Sam is just like every guy you've ever liked, he's normal, caring, and sure, a little different in the sense that he's not a dick to other people and doesn't curse at you because of how you feel– okay so he's very different, but you aren't. You’re trying so hard to hold yourself back from thinking of those three words, from being all in for once, but you can’t help it, and you’re fucking mad at Jess for being right. Sam lost you. He went to a different state and is staying there for weeks, and it's okay with him. It should be the same way it should be for you, but it isn't. It was never going to be.

Your feelings were never going to be like his, and deep down, you knew that, Jess knew that. And you let it happen.

Fuck you’re crying. Fuck he’s calling out your name. “Sam, I'll call you back, okay?” And you hang up to his protests.

He didn’t cause this, you did by being so fucking careless with the most crucial thing in your life– your heart. And men will always be men. They'll forget to call, or they'll move to another country or state for work, they'll have girl friends that they hang around, and you will never be able to deal with it. 

It's terrifying to think about because you spent your senior year of high school making damn sure something like this would never happen, you didn't breathe near a boy, and you worked your ass off both in school and out of it to have achievements you can add to your transcript. Your first two years in Stanford have been spent right here in your apartment (or the first one was in the dorm), away from anyone who could ruin your progress– then Jess introduced you to him, and so what? She's introduced you to anyone she's ever hung out with. But you knew Sam was different. You knew everything about him was different the second you were both in the car alone, and you let all your nerves go so that you could sit in the passenger's seat and talk to him.

That should've been enough to scare you the hell off. He’s older and more experienced, and you promised you wouldn’t do this– you threw it all out the window the second he asked for your number.

He’s calling, your phone's ringing, and you know it's unfair to him, God, you know it is, but how unfair is it to whatever’s left of you if you answer? 

After an extensive crying session, you pick yourself off your bed and get on the desk for some serious study time. All your best studying has been done with your eyes bloodshot red and your heart broken. It doesn't take a few hours to finish and revise your assignments, and then you make flashcards for the chapter you (daydreamed during) missed last week. It's the most productive you've been this year. You're not complaining— until you are because Jess is barging through the door, and she doesn't yell, ‘honey, I'm home’, which can only mean she spoke to Sam. She knocks on your door twice before slamming it open with a frown. 

“No, because what the actual fuck do you mean you're not answering any of our calls?” Oh, she's worried. You shrug, pointing to the phone that you shut off and abandoned on your bed a few feet away. “How many times have I told you to stop shutting your phone off if you're not going to keep your laptop open? What if your parents call and you don't answer? They can't exactly just knock on your door.”

“I texted them before I shut it off.” She lets out an exasperated breath, walking over to you.

“What about me? Why didn't you text me?”

“I forgot, Jess, I'm sorry, it's no big—” Before you can even finish your sentence, you're hit with an insane case of deja vu, except it's more like your brain stops working. You genuinely did forget. It wasn't like you'd hurt your best friend on purpose, but she doesn't look like she forgives you or, quite frankly, even cares. And you're repeating his words right back at her.

“No big deal? Seriously, what has gotten into you? First, you don't listen to me about Sam– you actually fight me about it, then you ruin it! Sam is racking his brain thinking of what he did wrong, and all he came up with is that he forgot to call once. Tell me you are not being bitch to Sam because he goddman forgot!”

You're not surprised by Jess saying it any more than you were scared when you did. You already knew it was irrational; you're overreacting and rounding up all the bad things happening since you've known him to justify it. But you're not stupid, you know Sam doesn't deserve it, you just– honestly, you didn't think he'd call Jess or care that much. 

“I'll call and apologize—”

“No, God, no, this isn't what this is about,” she sighs, her voice quieter and pensive as she sits on your bed. You turn the chair around to face her. “Babe, talk to me. What is going on with you?”

“You were right.” You can't cry again, and you're not in front of Jess about something you're ruining yourself. “It's too much, I just can't do it, Jess. You were right—”

“Come on, babe, no, you fought for him, you convinced me he's right for you, what is this about?”

“I just can't be okay with it, every time something happens, I just— I'm scared it'll all go to shit, so I can't focus on anything, but the second I closed my phone after I hung up on him, I felt like— it was closure. I'm not scared anymore. I can focus and see everything clearly when I'm not…”

“When you're not in love with him.” You don't meet her eyes, instead, they pan to the floor. Yeah. You were scared to say it, but Jess certainly isn't. She won't shy away from the truth for your benefit; maybe that’s why talking things out with her always works for you. 

“Jess, you were so right, and I'm sorry I didn't—”

“Hey, don't be stupid, no. I didn't mean it— I never wanted you to do this. Sam is good for you, and you are great for him. Me and Gen, we talk about the two of you all the damn time and how incredible Sam treats you, how thankful and accommodating you are to him. I didn't know that that's what you were thinking.”

“I fell in love with him in a month. I can't, I just can't be like this again. I can't keep doing this and–” Yeah, you can feel your tears deep in your chest, and it doesn't matter what Jess hears or sees, you just can't keep going like this, “— I keep losing myself, and I accommodate to him and I want to please him and I shut up when I'm sad because what if he doesn't want to hear it—”

“You know he–”

“I don't care! I don't care how good of a person he is, unless he pulls it out of me, I don't… God, I'm so high maintenance, and he's too comfortin– Jess, I'm done. I can't keep…” She frowns, and you notice her red cheeks as she opens her arms for you. You oblige, moving off your chair and next to her on the bed, your head on her chest while her arms wrap around you. It never hurts less, and the fact it never fucking might scares you more than you thought was possible.

You both fall asleep like that on your bed, your head on her chest and her embrace warming you, it makes you curse yourself for waking up at three. You were in a deep sleep, too. Thankfully, she still is, so you grab your phone and head out of your room, turning off the lights behind you to– oh fucking SHIT.

“Sam!” You scream, a hand on your racing chest. You're already wincing at the thought of waking Jess up, but you don't hear anything except a change of rhythm in her snores. You’re panting as you take a step back from him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We finished early,” He lies, his eyes on yours. He’s a good liar, you have to admit, even if you can see right through it. He takes a step closer, examines you, and places his hands on your shoulders as he does before pulling you in close. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

That's— what on earth is happening right now? “Were you crying?” He furrows his eyebrows, fingers wiping under your eyes even though your tears dried hours ago. 

“Yeah, but that— Sam, what are you doing here?” You repeat, still starstruck. You like surprises when you know they’re coming. Like not knowing where you're going for dinner or not knowing what type of party someone is planning for your birthday, but this? It's very not cool. Extremely terrifying.

“I just told you we finished the case early.”

“You— what about your dad?”

“Dad left us a clue, well, he left Dean something. We went to find him in Blackwater Ridge, and he left something for Dean there about where to find him next. It's a couple of states over, and when I saw that this isn't a two-week kind of thing, I told Dean to bring me back here.”

“Sam it's been five days—”

“I know. I know, but you— trust, right? Technically, I made it back before the end of the week, so even that promise I kept…” and it's a weak attempt to lighten the situation with his hands still lighting your body on fire. You're not angry with Sam, of course you aren't, you never expected that you'd be with him every second of every day, you even knew that in less than a month you'd have to go back home for the summer vacation— it was never Sam's fault to begin with. It's yours. Your heart, your stupid, childish feelings, because despite being emotionally intelligent like almost everyone you've ever known has told you, and a damn hard worker to get into med school a year early, your feelings are where you draw the line.

“Honey, were you crying?” He should probably stash the monikers away for the time being if you're going to be able to do this.

“No— I mean, yes but it's fine I had Jess here.” You don't mean to sound bitter but it seems as if he took it that way because he frowns and nods slowly in a manner that pains you. He doesnt deserve this. He doesnt, hes been so fucking good to you, he cares about you, he—

He’ll never love you the way you love him. If you break it off now it's better for the both of you, he won't have to deal with a crazy girlfriend and you won't feel your heart shatter every time he forgets to call or goes out with Lily. This is good.

This is for the better. You know it's for the better.

“Sam.” You say with a breath, suddenly self conscious of your hair, is it messed up? And the makeup you slept with (though you're not too worried with it being Jess's and all her stuff is waterproof). “I— uh, we should probably go to sleep. I'm still tired and you just came back, right?”

“Yeah, but if you want to talk about something, anything—” Why is he making this so hard?

“No, no, we should just… wait, did Dean bring you here, with your bags? You don't have your car?” He confirms your words and you groan, walking past him to the kitchenette, opening the fridge door to hopefully find the iced tea you hid from Jess. Thank god for blueberry iced teas.

“I can go back to my apartment, it's no problem,” And you freeze your movements as you curse yourself under your breath. That isn't what you meant, you're just very overstimulated and there's too many thoughts going on in your head, you wish you could calm them down, and now sam is staying over, and he’ll probably expect you to crash with him in Jess’s room. 

“Sam, ‘m sorry, it’s just I’m so tired—”

“No, I get it. It’s fine, a cab—”

“What? No, I mean I’m sorry for being bitchy, I just wanna head to bed, that’s all. And I’m not hauling you into a cab, we’ll take Jess’s room… unless you wanna be alone?”

You look up from your drink to gouge his expression and he shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “‘Course not.”

Great. “Okay, you wanna drink something?” 

At his refusal with a short ‘thank you’, you tell him you’ll be in the room in a moment which he takes as the dismissal it is, shutting the door behind him so you’re completely alone in the living room. Kitchen. What the fuck ever this is. 

God, this is— you brush your hands through your hair shutting your eyes aggressively. You’re okay. It’s okay. The earth is still spinning and you haven’t failed any of your classes— and Sam is here and he’s being a loving boyfriend saying he misses you, what is wrong with you?

You decide that enough thinking’s enough as you drown the rest of your drink and enter the room with soft footsteps. Sam’s sprawled out on your best friend's bed and you check yourself out in the mirror quickly to see that, surprisingly, you look somewhat decent. You shut the lights off before you get in the bed, lying on your back just as Sam is. 

Is it rude to sleep on your side? Definitely is. You can’t find it in yourself to care as you do it, moving the covers so they aren’t all on your side, and sing yourself to sleep because what the hell else are you supposed to do after today?

Waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and maybe even food? Yes. Always. Please. 

You don’t waste a second getting off the bed, not like you’re getting any more sleep with the sun filling the room with a warm, golden glow. You shut the blinds off for good measure before freshening up in the bathroom quickly, not wanting to miss whatever was happening in the kitchen outside.

The second you open the door you’re engulfed in the scent, though this time you notice how sweet it is. You smile as you look over and see— oh. Right. You forgot. That’s why you’re in Jess’s room.

Jess is sitting on the counter while Sam cooks, what you assume are pancakes, on the stove. At the sound of the door, they both face you, Jess quickly running off the counter and into your arms. You reciprocate in no time, squeezing her tighter. “You okay?” She whispers in your ear, as good of a friend as ever.

“‘M okay. Please stay today.” When you pull away, she nods at you, like it’s a given then drags you to where she was sitting, right next to Sam. His smile pulls at your heartstrings and he leans down for a kiss that— there’s no way you’re not kissing him back. Your left-hand lands on his bicep as you steady yourself. When he pulls away, he doesn’t go completely, his face inches from yours, and he steals another quick one. 

He’s back to cooking as he mumbles, “Missed you.” 

What’s happening right now?

What on earth is happening right now?

You’ll think about it when you’re more awake. Or at least when you have food in you. 

“Jess, what do you have planned for today?” you ask, your hand still on him as you rub it absentmindedly.

“I have classes— so do you, Sam!” Isn’t Jess a year younger than Sam? you never noticed how much she knows about the graduating class despite not being a part of it. She reads your mind like she's always done, “Gen’s with him, ‘sides most of my friends are from his class.”

Right. Gen. you should probably apologize to her for stealing her girlfriend for an entire night. Only god knows how she’s coping right now. When you glance at Jess you notice her surveying you and Sam, so you quickly take a step back to remove your hand.

“What about you, Sam? Any plans?” She listens, leaning over the island that separates the small kitchen from the living room, “other than class obviously, which you will be attending— by the way, Lily is so fucking pissed at you, dude.”

Sam throws his head back with a groan, “i know. She wont stop texting.”

That’s reassuring. He continues, “But I don't think I’m up for anything today. I’ll go the classes and talk to lily about finishing the project next week. You think she’ll understand?” His eyes catch yours and you feel obligated to answer with a quick nod. 

He’s back to flipping pancakes that look surprisingly delicious considering you’ve never once seen him cook before. Though, in your defense, you’ve usually eaten out for every dinner and breakfast you spent together. Which now that you think of it, isnt cost-effective. Someone should chek on your bank account. Not you, obviously, but someone should.

“It smells really good.” you compliment, gesturing to jess to bring you a brush, which she complies, leaving to find one. “Where’d you learn to make food like that?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’, i used to read lots of books growing up, guess i picked up some cooking ones.”

“Really? That’s nice. Dean mustve been real lucky having you try out recipes.” you joke, dipping a fork into the batter to try it. ‘S horrible, just like you expected. It isnt cake batter, it wont taste good, and you knew that— doesnt mean you wont try it.

“Yeah he didnt really, i mean i never actually cooked or anything, just read them and when i got the apartment with Gen i started cooking more, turns out its something i like.” oh its cute to think that coming to stanford, getting his own place with gen, had opened up this kind of opportunity for him, and it has you wondering what else he did when he was younger. Youd hardly spoke of either of your childhoods— mostly because as much as you love your parents, you dont like thinking too much of how they were when you were younger, and apparently that lead to not asking about sam’s. Hes never talked about his mum, now that you notice it.

Is she out of the picture? Are you even allowed to ask? Did you want to ask considering whats been on your mind since yesterday? God, you dont even know if youre going through with it. Hes here and hes cooking breakfast, kissing you, holding you— why would you want to let that go?

“Here, whore.” jess emerges from her room, throwing the hairbrush.

“Thanks, slut.” she smirks, plopping onto the couch and you catch the look of surprise on sam’s face. “What? Whats wrong? We’re joking its just a thing we do.”

“No, i now, just didn't know you do that. Never heard it before.”

“Yeah, i don't even know how it started but it's cute.” he agrees leaning down for another kiss which you, stupidly, let him do. Your hand comes up to brush against his cheek before you remember the object you’re holding and disconnect, sitting on the counter, brushing your roots so you can tie your hair back with no fly-away strands. “You okay?”

You nod, not quite meeting his eyes as you focus on making sure your hair is perfect without so much as a phone camera. “Really?” He prodes, “you don’t look it. You’ve been weird since yesterday, did I do something?” Oh, did you ever, Winchester . 

“No, Sam, ‘m fine.” He sighs but lets it go. It doesn’t take more than ten minutes for a stack of pancakes to finish cooking and Sam serves it on the counter next to maple syrup and some chocolate sauce he says he found in the fridge (you made it a few days ago but didn’t like it). 

Thankfully, everyone enjoys the food, and Jess seems like she has a lot to say about him skipping out on you, then coming back all of a sudden, for losing communication with her— she doesn’t bring up yesterday at all which helps you relax since you’re not even sure what you’re going to do anymore.

It’s ten by the time you’re all done and the dishes are in the sink, you (like a fucking idiot again) kiss sam’s cheek, thanking him excessively. “I’m glad you liked it, it was my first time, I think.”

“You think?” He takes a step closer, both hands coming to rest on your waist as he nods. Why does he just love talking when you’re close to each other? Don’t people have conversations a few feet away anymore? Not possible?

“Yeah, I’m not sure if the first time counts, ‘nothin like what you had today, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, it was amazing.” You wish you could say you missed the faint blush on his cheeks, but you didn’t, and it did nothing but make you want to kiss him more.  “When do your classes start?”

“Two hours.” You frown, looking behind him at the clock you have hanged up. 

“Seriously?”

“Dead.” You groan, looking around to find his bags on the floor on your front door, “I already packed.”

“I didn’t know you unpacked.”

“I didn’t exactly, just got some stuff out for this morning, but I’m ready to go, I’ll see you later today?” 

You tilt your head after he kisses it, and you watch him walk away. “Today? What’s today?”

He shrugs, carding the duffel, “nothing specific, just thought I’d see you. If you want.”

If you want. Do you want? “Sure, we’ll see.” He nods, uncertain, before he yells out for Jess who rushes out of her room to hug him, muttering about ‘not being sure if she’ll ever see him again considering he likes to disappear’. 

Couldn’t have said it better, Jess. You don’t have any classes today but some studying would do you good so you lock yourself in your room for an hour before Jess barges in and you’re more confused to find she’s not at Sam’s than you are to see her in lace lingerie. Because. What. The. Fuck.

“Jess!”

“Do I look pretty?” She teases, twirling around like a Disney princess, before going for something more R-rated, playing with the waistband of her panties. “Was gonna wear it last night for Gen, so I wanna surprise her but I’m scared black isn't my color.”

“Slut! Absolute slut. You’re showing me your girlfriend’s outfit? Sluttiest whore there ever was.” She giggles, walking over to your desk, “black is definitely your color, babe, you know that, don’t worry about it, Gen’ll love it.”

She still seems hesitant, but because Jess would rather kill herself before ever giving you reason to comfort her, she changes the subject, closing your books, “okay, tell me about Sam.”

“What about him? He’s in class— or has class in an hour, just like you do.”

“You’re breaking up with him?” You shrug, leaning back in your seat, “what do you mean,” she repeats your gesture mockingly, slapping your shoulder, “man up and choose a side.”

“Not a man. And besides, he doesn’t know so—”

“Stop being like this,” she scolds, crossing her arms in front of her chest, though it does nothing for her modesty, not that you care, “I know you and you can’t even fucking focus on anatomy. Come on, you need to do something. Talk with Sam or stop trying at all, there’s no other option and you know it.”

“Yeah well the two options suck.” You groan, slamming your head down on the desk. “I—”

“You love him, yeah.”

“Do you… think he does too?” You mumble against the desk before hearing her sigh. And it fucking breaks your heart to hear it indirectly. She hasn’t said anything even yesterday. She didn’t deny it, but she didn’t confirm that your fears are valid— she is now. She’s telling you again, as if you haven’t repeated it like a prayer in your mind, that you’ve just gone too fast. 

“Sam cares about you, you know that, baby. I mean, he just cooked breakfast after staying the night. You guys shared the bed— he wants you, loves having you around.”

“But doesn’t love me.” You look up at her, already being sure tears will stain your face any moment now. 

“It’s not even about time, it’s just— you’re scared and you’re letting it affect everything else in your life.”

“Isn’t that normal—”

“It isn’t. You know it isn’t. Me and Gen spend almost everyday together, but I know my place in her life, as her friend, girlfriend, lover, that’s all I am. At least for now, till we’re done with college and then me and her will figure it out. You’re different, you’re thinking of the future all the time and you’re overthinking what he says when he’s not here, and Sam's been doing things that don’t sit right with you— I know he has, don’t tell me he hasn’t. The first night you spent at his apartment when we told you about Lily I knew something was off. You don’t deserve to live in fear and anxiety because of a man being in your life. And it isn’t Sam’s fault, maybe— it’s not yours either, but it’s just not the right time.”

What’s worse, hearing what you want to hear or hearing what’s honest?

“Hey, Sam. I know you’re in class right now so just, call me when you’re done, we need to talk.” You wince at the last phrase, regretting it already. You’re about to put the phone down when it starts to vibrate with a call from him. Huh.

��Hey, baby, I’m done with class, I was just speaking with the professor. I haven't listened to your voicemail yet, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shut your eyes at the lie, your breathing heavy, “just need to see you. Or actually,” you can’t bring him in blind, “it is something. Just, when can I see you?”

“Oh. I have a few classes then the project with Lily, so maybe eight?”

“Is there— when’s your next class?”

“Few hours.”

“Can we meet up now?”

“Is it important? because I don’t wanna cut it short and I don’t want to be late for class.”

“It’s important but it won’t take long.” He sighs, probably at your vague answers before deciding to meet up with you in your apartment. Like the gentlemen he is. That you’re leaving. 

You call Jess the entire twenty minutes it takes him to knock on your door and she helps your through it all, the same way she has the second this started.

He greets you with a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and somehow that eases your worry. At least he knows something is coming. You close the door behind it and gulp before you let go of the knob and lean against it, not sitting down. He’ll probably want to leave anyways. 

“What’s wrong? Is this about why you’ve been acting this way since yesterday?”

Maybe. Why does your mouth stop fucking working the second you actually have to say something? How on earth is that fucking fair. “It’s not fair.” Oh, great. There goes your speech.

“What’s not—”

“It’s not fair to us, what’s happening right now so I think we should just, you know, like not be together.”

Like, not be together? Way to show off how much of a seventeen year old you actually are.

“What?” He— Sam looks genuinely confused and that’s not something you anticipated. 

“Breaking up. I’m breaking off what we’re doing because it’s just not working.” And that seems to register for him, finally and lets out a defeated breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “What?”

“I knew it was coming, I just have no fucking idea why. Why you’ve been so— I just need an explanation.” 

“It’s everything, okay? It’s my fault, I started this knowing I wasn’t ready for a relationship and you’re great, Sam, but it’s not what I need right now.” You’re not sure what you’re saying half way through, this is not the script you rehearsed and he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you, shaking his head as if to say ‘bullshit’. “It’s a lot of things that we just can’t change about you and about me, we’re just not supposed to be together.”

“Don’t give me that crap, what can’t we change? And why can’t we change it?” He’s frustrated, not exactly angry and you wish you could gauge more of his feelings than just that but the truth is you’re radiating fear and anxiety that you can’t focus on anyone else’s emotions. “And why are you so tense?”

“Because I’m—”

“Breaking it off doesn’t mean you have to be shaking.” His voice is slightly raised so he cuts himself off, taking a breath before taking a step towards you, “You shouldn’t be shaking, okay? It’s fine, I respect your decision, but talking about this is also important.”

“But it’s over, right?” He tilts his head in confusion. “I mean, because, you’re not trying to convince me or anything, you’re just asking.”

“I’m not, what does that even mean? Do you not want me to fight for us?”

“Fighting for us would entitle fighting me, so I don’t think so. I’m sure this is the right thing to do, Sam. I’m very sure—.”

“Why?”

“Because of a—”

“Real fucking answers.” You flinch at his tone, supporting your weight on the other leg.. 

“A lot of what you think is okay and normal just isn’t with me. Like hanging out with Lily or leaving out of nowhere with Dean—”

“We talked about both of these things before I decided on them! Do you just keep a list of all the things I’m doing that you slightly disapprove of?”

“No, but it’s still early and this just shows we’re not for each other.”

“What about the things that show that we are? Studying at the apartment, the dinners, what was all of that? If you’re gonna make a list at least make it fair.”

“This isn’t a list!” You huff, angry at this point and you move away from the door so you’re not standing face to face, “it’s what I think is right. And I can’t live like this if I’m going to have to be okay with all of these things.”

“Live like this? You’re making thsi sound like—”

“—that’s just the way I see it, Sam.” You’re not sure what you would do if you hear him mock your overthinking. Mock marriage and your future.

“Well it’s wrong. I think we’re good for each other when you aren’t getting in your head about everything. You don’t have to think about things so intensely, and I’m not brushing your feelings aside, I get that they’re there, but if you keep giving them more than they deserve they’ll eat at you.” 

“So will being with you.”

You’re a lot of things, but weak isn’t one of them. You’re starting to think that just isn’t true. And it’s starting to sink in as you watch Sam scoff out a breath, his hands covering his eyes as if he’s willing the entire conversation away.

And you’re starting to think it’s not true when he makes a move to leave the door.

And you’re sure it’s not true when you let him leave without a word.

part eight (epilogue); honey, you're familiar.  

title: all my habits came back around (calgary by tate mcrae)

as we near the end of this thing I made that you guys decided to care about, I want to say thank you. I wrote the first chapter as a one-shot, and here we are over thirty thousand words later. I'm so grateful to this fic for how much it has allowed me to interact with the fandom and the amazing people in it.

on another note, this is not the end— don't worry— though this is exactly how I wanted the fic to go because when I wrote this, I had a very specific character in mind: one who is self-sabotaging and constantly struggling with an internal battle, she's complicated. While, of course, she will figure that out, it won't be now, and it won't be with Sam.

this doesn't spoil anything for the last and final chapter, but I did want to give some of my thoughts + I'm a sucker for reusing the first words of the first chapter in the end if you guys noticed + swear this series is a happy ending just wait!!

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@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

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[alexanderwales]

I'm going through a profound period of writer's block, except I've always maintained that writer's block is really like seven different things.

Right now it's just ... aversion. I sit down to write and immediately want to be doing something else. I write a hundred words and it's fine, I'm having ideas and things, I know what comes next, but I finish those hundred words and it's like my brain is so ready to be doing something else. The writing is, in my opinion, not suffering from this, except that the output has been pitiful. The flow state is particularly elusive.

My all-time best day for writing was 16K words. That's like ... three chapters in a single day, maybe four if they're on the shorter side for my chapters. I was going unsustainably fast, fingers flying, neglecting my family, neglecting my body, really in the zone. That's not something I can replicate, but I remember the feeling, and it's so close. It doesn't feel like that me was a world away.

I think I would like to figure out the cause of the aversion. It's coming after a period of deep depression, maybe the worst I've had in twenty years, and maybe that came from anxiety of some kind, but not being able to write at the level of output I want is definitely not helping with the anxiety I've been feeling, so I don't know.

My plans for my next web serial, the one after Thresholder, are premised on being able to reliably write and edit 10K words a week, all killer no filler, as little wasted words as possible, new and interesting things around every corner, stellar fight scenes, meaty character interactions, but I'm feeling like a floppy baby, unable to hold up my own head, and if I can't maintain that pace ... I don't know. I can only scale back, and obviously if you want to make money writing for people on the internet, scaling back runs contrary to that goal.

I would feel better if I had what felt like a good path forward in terms of the writing muscle, if there were some life hack that would work for me. I think I'm at the point of wanting to try sprints again, which have historically been good for me but also a great way to burn out. I don't know how you get over an aversion to something you actually enjoy doing, but I'm not really a stranger to aversions. Usually I just buckle down and get it done, which I don't think is going to work if that feeling of aversion is with me for one of the primary things that I do.

This is mostly a gripe rather than me seeking solutions. I think this is probably a personal thing for which the solutions you might want to offer in the spirit of helpfulness would not actually work. Mostly, if you read my stuff, I want you to know where I'm at right now.

[peijizerojournal]

re: 'khaos reigns'

i have SO much to say about it lol but i'm still gathering my thoughts. all i know for sure is : even though the bar (in regards to quality of story and characterization) was on the floor, i am still, yet again, extremely disappointed !

(rant/review/spoilers below. will maybe add to this, but also maybe not. just purging some of my thoughts lol)

in a nutshell,

the way liu kang, kuai liang, cyrax, sektor and bi-han's characters were all deviously misrepresented was just appalling.

kuai liang is depicted as heartless, arrogant and temperamental. posturing as a 'grandmaster' even though he's done nothing but usurp authority by establishing a 'clan of his own' and pointing the finger at everybody but himself. lecturing cyrax about honour... pfft.

liu kang is strangely unforgiving and not very compassionate (he was literally more gracious in how he handled shang tsung/quan chi over bi-han?? like what??) not to mention his lack of urgency with dispatching of havik and rescuing geras. instead of extending some authentic benevolence to bi-han, he instead goads and chastises him after his transformation, and fails to elaborate further when they have their brief interaction regarding his hopes for a different future. the miscommunication between them -- in other words -- continues to be infuriating.

sektor doing nothing but being comically op and fawning over bi-han every three seconds is so all over the place, like they couldn't decide or couldn't find a nuanced balance in her persona (an issue with many characters, it seems...). while i thought she was the most accurately characterized out of all of these major players, her defining traits such as her obsession with the cyber initiative and boosting the lin kuei's position are not made so clear in the actual story? instead the writers chose to focus on her over-the-top, one-sided adulation toward bi-han. it makes her so hard to take seriously as a threat or as the next acting-grandmaster. another storytelling fail!

cyrax starts off the dlc defiantly, standing up for what she believes in and deciding to help the shirai ryu, yet during the rest of the story, she has no agency and just follows kuai around profusely apologizing for something she didn't even do (and kuai was relishing in that shift of power.... gross.)

and bi-han... i think that situation speaks for itself. missing chunks of the leak script and clever editing in the trailers left most of the fanbase baited and switched, and not to mention literally anything could happen next because of the lack of commitment to any of the lore and to even the timeline itself. many of the tower endings contradict much of the intro dialogue and the campaign itself. i guess by introducing alternate timelines and universes so early on, it gives the writers fair game to retcon anything and everything. which, effectively, pulvarizes any meaning for liu kang's 'new era' going forward.

i could keep ranting but, in short: 'khaos reigns' was rushed, boring, full of poor characterization and enough 'macguffins' and 'red herrings' fit for a superhero movie. so many plot holes and loose ends that weren't followed up on (like hello, what's with the hand on noob's hip? and where the hell did titan havik go at the end? was he banished? what about the kamidogu???). there were so many missed opportunities to flesh out preexisting conflicts too, and the pacing of everything from dialogue to the transitions between chapters was completely disjointed. all the characters actions were seemingly shortsighted and many of the decisions made led to nowhere and nothing really changed by the end. nobody went through any real character arc or growth, nobody knows what happened to our over-hyped 'villain of the week,' and the tower endings cancel out the dlc's true ending, essentially making all of it, and none of it, 'canonically accurate.'

it's clear whoever's writing this has no respect or insight for the source material, and is just doing whatever they want: whatever's popular, whatever sells, right? the one thing about a multiverse story is, you can keep that going forever. the possibilities are endless, and if they don't like something... it can be changed with a snap of the finger. kind of reminds me of one of supernatural's awful later seasons, or destiny 2's "shadowkeep" expansion. 'khaos reigns' comes across as a shoehorned seasonal narrative that exists solely to sell noob, cyrax and sektor and little else.

oh yeah, and the future dlc's that are sure to come.

[lbhslefttiddie]

Update: I read the fic instead of sleeping and got juked into around 40k words of YQY and SY father-son relationship feels and then maybe 9k more of actual Qijiu starting to happen (?). I'm fucking dying. I'm also crying as I type this because the entire sequence of the past few chapters is just :^)

eh... you mean mouse on the thorn? its not actually that long is i

what the fUCK

[kyouka-supremacy]

:O

[thedemonscrawler]

"the phenomenon whereby a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy or course of action because they have invested heavily in it, even when it is clear that abandonment would be more beneficial" Or– Eclipse has put too much effort into getting the star to give it up now. Even if it kills him.

Something with SAMS Eclipse, inspired by recent plot stuff (aka buddy that star is bad for your health, we're staging an intervention) because hooboy i cannot resist a self destructive spiral with an inevitable crash at the bottom, especially for our resident disaster

[duskandcobalt]

wip wednesday 💕

Another week, another snippet. What's this from, you ask? that's for me to know and you to find out at some unspecified point in the near(ish) future 😘

She’d crawled into their bed just a little while later, silently laying down and facing away from him. He’d pulled her into his chest after a few minutes, one hand slipping up the front of her t-shirt to cup her breast.

"Elain," he started, voice scratchy with sleep. “You can’t blame me for being jealous when someone else looks at you like that.” His teeth scraped over the sliver of skin that the stretched out neckline of her shirt left exposed.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Elain whispered, biting down on her bottom lip as his hands moved to grip her hips and pull her on top of him.

He ground his hips up, letting her feel him against her. “Prove it to me.”

She wasn’t particularly in the mood for this but she couldn't help but give in, her body responding to his touch despite her better judgement. She allowed him to slip her shirt over her head before she bent forward and pressed kisses all the way down the center of his chest.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I just looked at the price on the back of a book I’ve had for a bit over a decade and it was four. fucking. dollars. Just four with no taxes. No extra 97cents or something before taxes. Just a round number that you would add taxes to.

I googled the price of a new edition and it was almost thirteen! Not an even thirteen, it was like 12.96 or something. Close enough that it’s basically thirteen but if you’re adding multiple items together to try and get the price on a purchase with more items it would add more confusion.

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 9 ! :)

[finniestoncrane]

running around in a circle tugging at my hair and holding back tears: too many things too many things too many things too many things too many thi

[dinitride-art]

looks at ao3, finds nothing new that I want to read right at this moment (probably a fic in there I’m gonna end up reading later and being like woah this is great! But I don’t have the energy for that right now). Goes to my own works page. Stares. Glances over a multi chapter fic (incomplete), moves on. Sees another multi chapter fic, my baby, (incomplete) but… there’s not much else left to do. What if… no. I couldn’t. I- I shouldn’t. But… maybe… if I opened the document I could just… look and see