#this wasn't where i was meant to go with this but here we are

[barcaatthemoon]

familia ii || alexia putellas x reader ||

a couple of the struggles of your first child with alexia.

part i

alexia brushed her hand against the back of your knuckles. she hadn't taken her eyes off of you for the past hour. out of the corner of your eyes, you could see the way that her body sagged and threatened to fall forward. still, alexia sat dilligently watching over you in the hospital room.

"ale, come here please," you said weakly. alexia's head snapped over to the hospital bed. you had moved over a little, just enough to make room for her to lay with you. alexia knew what you wanted, and she wasn't in any sort of mood to deny you. not after what you had just put yourself through to make her happy.

"are you having trouble sleeping?" alexia's voice was full of concern. she knew that you hated sleeping in new places. that wasn't what was keeping you away, however. alexia's staring and occasional knee-bouncing right next to your bed was the cause of your restlessness.

"cuddle me, please." you pouted as you stared up at alexia. she was more than happy to crawl into the bed with you. almost immediately, both of you fell right asleep in the hospital bed. you don't know how, but you managed to get a good night's sleep all cramped up in alexia's arms.

when the morning came, you had your fair share of visitors in the form of alexia's friends and family. a few friends that you had made stopped by, but your family was too far away to make it on such short notice, not that you expected them to. alexia's family doubled as your family now, especially since you had fallen pregnant.

most of the visitors were just passing through, but mapi, ingrid, alba, and eli stayed all day. they helped alexia move you and the newborn baby home. you had never thought that you'd have such a good support system in your life. they did everything for you except for feed the baby. you noticed that ingrid in particular stayed very close to you and the baby.

"have you ever thought of having a baby with maria?" you asked. ingrid bit her lip as she gave you a small nod. you knew that she was nervous to bring it up again, but you had been watching the way that maria melted whenever ingrid held your daughter. "you should. the two of you are in a good place, and there might be an opening for the apartment across the hall."

"do you really want those two together even more?" ingrid asked as she motioned towards where alexia, mapi, and alba were standing. alexia and mapi had joined up to shove alba back and forth. it was probably more than annoying for alba, but you loved the look on alexia's face as she laughed.

"i don't mind it most of the time. besides, we wouldn't have to be in the same place as them constantly," you reminded ingrid. she did seem to like the sound of that and agreed to look into the apartment across the hallway. they were large apartments, so you wouldn't have any more neighbors on the floor.

…

loud wails seemingly echoed through the hallway of your apartment. it was pitch black outside, the kind that it only ever was in the odd hours of the morning. alexia had gone back to training and her usual duties, so you were taking on a bit more with the baby. that meant you tried to get every late-night feeding or diaper change that came up. tonight wasn't going to be an exception, not with alexia going in for an important meeting in a few hours.

"jaime, baby, what's wrong?" you cooed as you stepped into the nursery. your daughter wouldn't answer, but you hoped that the sound of your voice would work. of course, it hadn't, not even as you said all the things you'd heard alexia say before.

you had carried jaime for nine months, but that girl was obsessed with alexia. at times, you felt like a failure for almost never being able to comfort your baby. in almost all of the books, it had warned about the other parent struggling to make a connection. the thought had never occured to you that it could be the other way around.

"shh, please don't cry," you begged and pleaded with jaime. however, it was too late. you heard alexia's footsteps, and once she had entered the room, jaime seemed to calm down. "i'm so sorry. i-i-," "it's okay, just go lay down. i've got this," alexia said. she took jaime from you and managed to get her down before you had gotten back to the bedroom. alexia wasn't sure what to expect when she got back, but it wasn't for you to be nearly sobbing into your pillow.

alexia got into bed with you and pulled you away from the pillows. her arms felt nice, but you didn't feel like you deserved it. you had one job, one agreed-upon job. you were supposed to take care of the baby, and it felt like you couldn't even do that. alexia was being patient with you, but even her patience had its limits.

"talk to me," alexia ordered. she had been worried about you for the past month and a half. alexia had stayed by your side for the entire offseason, and things should have clicked for you by now, but they hadn't.

"i'm a failure. jaime hates me, i don't get it." this time, you openly sobbed into her shirt. alexia was afraid for a moment that you'd wake the baby with how intense your crying was. she had a meeting that day, but it was going to be pushed back. there was no way she could leave you to do anything on your own when you were so obviously burnt out.

…

"alexia!" you groaned as eli yelled at her daughter. jaime was supposed to be down for tummy time, but alexia had continuously been picking the baby up instead. the doctors said that jaime was healthy, just a bit behind developmentally. you had been a bit beside yourself at the news, and alexia wasn't making it any better. "put her down!"

"mami, she was whining. she hates being down there by herself," alexia tried, but it was no use.

"then go down there with her, but do not pick her up," eli ordered. you hadn't expected eli to play the bad cop with alexia when it came to jaime, but you were grateful for it. alexia had warned you before jaime was even born that eli had been waiting for years to be a grandmother. there was no way she wasn't babying and spoiling her first grandchild, but alexia's mother had surprised you in putting her foot down when alexia wouldn't.

it wasn't surprising to you when alexia got down onto the floor. jaime barely ever seemed to crawl around when the doctors had told you she should be starting to stand up. you had been fighting with alexia about keeping jaime on the floor longer, but alexia always picked her up whenever you weren't looking. she didn't have the chance with eli there watching her like a hawk.

"mami, look at her. she wants to be held." alexia looked genuinely distraught as jaime began to whine a little.

"then you check on her to see if she needs something. there will be trouble if you coddle her for too long," eli warned. alexia brushed the warning off and took jaime into the kitchen to see if she wanted a bottle. "you need to put your foot down with alexia better."

"i don't want to start a fight." you were careful in choosing your words. eli didn't know about the arguments between you and alexia about coddling jaime. alexia had crossed a few lines resulting in you staying over with ingrid while mapi knocked some sense into your wife. "ale just hates to see her upset, that's all."

"how are the two of you doing? alba mentioned that she can't seem to get the two of you to brunch at the same time," eli was gentle with her prodding, but it was still prodding nonetheless.

"we have had some arguments, but nothing too permanent," you told her. eli didn't quite believe you, or at least she didn't believe that you were relaxed about this. she had seen how you and alexia were, how terrified you got whenever alexia seemed a bit annoyed. eli knew that one of your biggest fears was that alexia would leave you.

"if you need help with the big baby, let me know," eli told you. you chuckled a little and nodded. there had been times when you wished that you had eli's help while arguing with alexia. the woman could be acting like an asshole all week, but would immediately be on her best behavior if her mother was there.

…

"mummy!" jaime squealed as she reached for you from alexia's arms. lately, you had been jaime's favorite person, which was making alexia jealous. you could see the way that her jaw clenched as jaime began to scream and wail until you took her out of alexia's arms. "mummy."

"yes, mummy's here," you cooed softly. jaime rested her head against your shoulder as you walked her around. alexia watched from the couch as you got jaime settled down enough to rest in her playpen. once she was down and asleep, you joined alexia on the couch.

"she hates me," alexia grumbled. "i left for a tournament, and now she fucking hates me."

"alexia, she doesn't hate you. she just isn't used to you being back all the time. when you left, she was in shambles, it took a lot to get her to stop crying all the time. you weren't here, so you didn't see how we got to this point," you told her. it was a second too late when you realized that you had said the wrong thing as alexia's face fell.

"yeah, i wasn't here. that's the point," alexia raised her voice at you, something that hadn't happened since she came back. "you told me to leave, and then i had the euros camps. is this what you wanted all along?"

"ale, why would i want jaime to hate you?" you asked her. you hoped that it would help her realize how ridiculous she sounded, but it seemed to do the opposite instead.

"because you were so torn up about before. you and mi madre plotting behind my back. how many times did you go running to her before she told me that i had to go back home with her for a bit?" alexia asked you. she was slowly getting louder and louder. you didn't want to leave jaime in the living room all by herself, but you had to get alexia out of there. you knew she'd follow you to keep the fight going, so you got up and walked to the bedroom. "now you're walking away from me, ridiculous! we aren't done here."

"did you only come back to fight with me and see jaime?" you asked her. alexia paused, not having expected you to bite back. normally, you just sort of took whatever she threw at you until you had a chance to text or call eli or alba. you didn't have the energy to fight and make up with alexia in the same night. "because i can't do that, alexia. i'll go stay with ingrid or something and we'll work out a schedule, but if you are going to act like this, i'm not staying here anymore."

alexia seemed to realize that she had really fucked up because she immediately began to apologize and plead with you. "that's not what i want, (y/n), i swear. when i left, that was my little girl. she adored me, but now she cries when i'm in her arms. it's like she can tell that i've been bad. i'm sorry for snapping at you, i don't know what's wrong with me."

"you're stressed ale. jaime is picking up on the stress. there's nothing wrong with you to make our daughter hate you. she's still your little girl. do you think you can handle staying here while i go to ingrid's for a little while? i just want to calm down," you told her. alexia nodded. you could see that she wanted to hug or kiss you, but knew that you were mad at her. "i love you, ale."

"i love you too. i'll be better, i swear," alexia promised you. you pressed a kiss to her cheek on your way out. alexia ran a hand through her hair, let you leave the apartment, and then went back to watch jaime as she slept.

…

you laid curled up in alexia's arms as mapi laid on the grass with jaime. they were playing some game together, one that they had been playing inside originally. ingrid had shooed them outside at alejandro and manuel's naptime. you smiled as you watched the scene in front of you as mapi and jaime played together with ingrid watching from the porch.

"she's getting so big," alexia whispered in your ear. she ducked her head down a bit to press a kiss to the side of your jaw.

"yes, she is. i think it's the putellas genes. she's got your height," you told her. alexia hummed in agreement. jaime was nearly half a head taller than the other kids her age. she was also the spitting image of alexia, despite having your more reserved nature. next year, she'd be old enough to start with soccer, and alexia was so excited.

"if we start the treatments again soon and they go well, we could have a baby by my next birthday," alexia mentioned casually.

"i don't remember asking you what you wanted for your birthday," you teased. alexia scoffed as she gave you a little nudge. "i think that i'd like that too, but you would be playing for a lot of the pregnancy. are you okay with missing appointments?"

"back and forth. i'd like to retire with my girls on the pitch with me," alexia told you. you smiled at the thought of alexia giving her speech with you, jaime, and a second baby by her side.

"how do you know that we'll have another girl?" you asked her. to be fair, alexia had been pretty accurate in telling you beforehand how jaime would be.

"i don't for sure, but i've got a feeling. so, what do you say?" alexia asked you.

"i'd like that. the plan was three, wasn't it?"

"it was, but i'd like to carry the last one. i want to give you something as special as what you've given me." alexia pulled you in for a kiss, one that was only broken at the exaggerated gags of mapi and jaime.

"ew, gross mami!" jaime squealed. her squeals mixed with laughter as alexia got up and scooped jaime into her arms. alexia alternated between tossing jaime up and peppering the little girl's face in kisses. "te amo, mami."

"te amo mucho, jaime. your spanish getting much better," alexia said. jaime beamed at the praise. jaime had taken to english, but struggled with her spanish to the point where alexia wondered if they'd ever get around to catalan."

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Imagine a meet cute where Eddie is alone on a stormy night and he thinks someone is breaking in, but you’re just crawling under his trailer because there’s a stray animal under there and your rescuing it!!

Eddie usually didn't mind being alone in the trailer, being alone meant he had a sense of freedom to do whatever he wanted, but tonight is one of the nights he really wished Wayne was home. The news issued a severe thunderstorm warning that lasted from 2pm to 2am so Eddie made sure to have everything he needed prepared ahead of time. Pizza was on the table as was a few beers and all the movies he could ever want to watch was on the floor next to the couch. He settled in around 7pm and all was going as planned.

That was until 11pm rolled around. The storm was getting worse and there was so much noise surrounding the trailer that Eddie was starting to freak. As a trash can knocked over right outside of his window, Eddie finally decides to investigate. He puts on shoes and a sweatshirt and starts mumbling to himself about how stupid he is acting, "Why am I doing this? It could be a killer or some shit, what the fuck am I doing? Getting killed that's what you're doing Eddie my god." As he turned the corner he nearly screams as he runs into someone. He took a step back and realized that it was the newbie that just moved in the week prior.

He bite backs his scream and watches your movement. You lay on the ground and stretch your arm out as if you're trying to grab something that is under his trailer. "Oh sweetie come out please, it's okay I promise." He grows even more confused and curious as he watches you scoot to be closer to the side of trailer home. "It has to be scary out here all by yourself sweetie, I have some food you can have..." You call out trying to ease whatever is under the trailer.

He clears his throat and finally gets your attention. "Uh...What are you doing under my home?" He asks and if he looked any closer he would've been able to see your cheeks redden. "There's a baby possum...it's mother, well she didn't make it." You stand up, brushing off your jeans and start to explain more of the situation. "You know Susan? She lives like three trailers down I think, anyway she ended up hitting their mom and now it's alone and it has to be terrified! I mean look at this weather!" You started sniffling and Eddie couldn't tell if it was because you were crying over the situation or if it was because you were getting sick from being outside for so long. He really hoped it wasn't either, he'd hate for you to get sick but he also couldn't handle seeing someone so pretty and clearly so sweet cry.

"Look, I can try and help. I think I have some I don't know maybe some cat food? Would that help l think I have some, I know we have grapes..." You two finally agree on the grapes and about an hour later you finally rescued the baby possum from under the trailer. Eddie walked you and the baby that was just rescued to your trailer and you properly introduce yourselves. By the time you got to your front door the two of you seemed pretty smittened with one another and a date had been planned for the next night. Hopefully the storms would be passed by then and neither of you ended up with a nasty cold.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 7)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: here we are! and CHARLES WON MONACO! (also sorry for the lance slander RPM influences me far too much)

P7 - 2.5L water bottle

"Oh for fuck's sake."

The lyrics rapping over the Metro Boomin beat were cut off as you turned off your engine. You huffed spotting the asshole in green getting out of the Aston Martin in front of you.

Mother fucking Lance Stroll.

Stroll got on your every nerve from the fact that he, as a paid driver, was the epitome of what you hated about F1 and the cash is king nature of the sport. It didn't help your opinion of him that his treatment of the Hospitality workers was very telling of his personality (i.e a spoiled little bitch) - but he also treated the rest of Aston Martin like that.

His engineers he bossed around. His PR team he bossed around. His fucking team principle he bossed around. You had never ever seen a driver be able to literally pick and choose what Media they wanted to do until Lance Stroll. Not even Räikkönen had gotten away with things that way Stroll did.

The worst part of it all, though, was that Lance's attitude of I can do whatever I want meant that he really thought he could get any girl he wanted.

Namely - you.

Your Supra wasn't exactly inconspicuous and Lance had (unfortunately) been in F1 long enough to make the connection that the flash JDM car parked in the lot tended to belong to you. And even though your windows were tinted a few shades darker than legal limit, Lance was getting out of the car right next to you. There was no chance he didn't know that it was you.

If anything, he likely made his driver park next to your Supra on purpose.

"Lord give me strength." You muttered seeing him come up to your window.

But then Lance Stroll had the fucking audacity to tap on your window.

You immediately reached for the handle and opened the door which caused him to stumble for the lack of space as you did so. "Oh, woah! Hey!" The Canadian accent pissed you off for no other reason than it reminded you of Drake. Someone else you fucking despised.

"Don't touch my car." You said, voice flat.

"Oh, er. My bad. Nice looking ride."

"Thanks." You said curtly, internally cringing at how he said 'ride' like that. You went around and grabbed the vast array of things you always hauled with you. Said items for today consisted of your gym bag, your workbag, your lunch bag and your comically large 2.5L water bottle. You always were carrying a lot.

"Need help?"

"No."

"I insist."

"Don't."

"Why you always gotta play hard to get?"

You said nothing, forcefully biting your tongue. You were out of practice with Lance Stroll's shit since Domenicali had finally relented and cut the amount of shifts you would be rostered on Aston Martin. Which had been a shame since the crew were quite nice and you really taking the piss with Nando.

Still, Lance Stroll was insufferable - and you were evidently out of practice dealing with his spoiled delusions. You were just glad his father wasn't around. God help you when it came to the European races.

"I have to get to work." You said and locked your car. There was a call from behind where some Aston Martin people were waiting Lance but he ignored them. Instead, falling into step with you.

"I don't see you around Aston Martin anymore." He said, trying to make conversation.

You kept ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint. Pulling out your phone, you started to compose a to text to Oscar. He would coming here with Lily and had said something about finally introducing the two of you. Your eyes checked the time at the top of your phone screen. Based on what time it was, Oscar should've been here by now - and could save you from Lance Stroll.

to: piazzas 👼

where the fuck are u ?? lance stroll is trying to talk to me send help

"I don't know." Was all you said, typing away with one hand as the other held a bag, hoodie, bottle and lanyard. You lifted the arm to tap in through the gate and then continued to ignore Lance - who continued to walk beside you and speak.

"That wouldn't be because you're working for McLaren." Lance said. This made you fingers pause as the blatant comment caught you off-guard. You sucked your teeth and took a deep breath. You adjusted your grip on your bags and continued to type another message.

to: piazzas 👼

srsly im gonna fucking rage at this point

"I don't know what you're on about." You said and felt relief seeing the Read time-stamp arrive below your sent message and three dots finally pop up as Oscar typed a response.

Lance made that irritating sound - his laugh. "You know my dad will pay you double what they're paying."

from: piazzas 👼

I'm at the McLaren motorhome. In a meeting with some PR. Can you come?

You huffed and pocketed your phone. Your shift was at Ferrari today and so there was no logical reason for you to walk into McLaren. Then again, it was early and you were yet to get dressed. It should be okay. People rarely noticed you since you looked like some random trainer with the amount of stuff you always carried.

Except, right now, Lance Stroll was not getting the hint and pissing off. Meaning you couldn't exactly freely walk into McLaren no questions asked.

Especially after that comment about you working for McLaren.

"What do you say?" The annoying idiot stood there, still waiting on you apparently.

"What?" You asked, shifting the items in your hand and pausing in your steps. You were in front of Ferrari right now and considered going in to dump your stuff before sneaking off to McLaren. That would at least get rid of Lance.

"Just say the number. How much. Dad wants you onboard and so do I. And all that legal stuff we can sort out." Lance said with a nonchalant shrug that pissed you off more than it should've. "My trainer isn't really working for me anyway."

You stared at him. Was he being serious right now? Your mouth fell open at the audacity and you glanced at his manager behind him who was looking up at the sky, clearly uncomfortable.

But, of course, unable to say anything.

"Ah, Stroll! Mademoiselle is with us today!" You turned your head to the French accent of your other favourite Team Principle. Fred Vasseur arrived with one half of the Scuderia drivers beside him. Your eyes widened on the sight of Carlos there, sunglasses pushed up in the head of hair that had its own fan-accounts and was the star of many, many Tiktok thirst edits.

Fuck.

Last night, your uncle had thrown you for a loop. Carlos Sainz had somehow infiltrated your uncle's sphere with a video of him refusing to sign a Barcelona jersey. This, your uncle took as a good omen and a worth his approval.

"Approval for what?"

"None of these drivers are worth your time. But this one seems good." Your uncle's voice had sounded through the speaker function of your phone as you balanced a ball on your head. Hearing his voice always had you picking up a football - and Dia had never been in short supply of balls at home.

"Because Carlos didn't sign a Messi jersey?"

"His name is Carlos?" Your uncle asked and you had groaned, expecting him to make some ridiculous comment about the similar names being a good omen or something.

"Yeah. Carlos Sainz."

"Sainz? Hm. Is he's father a rally driver?"

"Yes." You had frowned, not expecting that. How did your uncle know that?

"Ah! I know him. Good family." Your uncle had said. "Why didn't you tell me about him before?"

"What?" You said, still stuck on how your uncle knew the Sainz family. How?"

"I want you to talk to him. Carlos." Your uncle didn't relent. "Go have dinner together. He has a good face."

Your uncle's attempts to get you married to what he deemed was a 'respectable man' and not, in his opinion, 'some limpy Frenchman' (you would often remind him Charles was from Monaco nor was it was like that between you two) or 'some tatted up Australian wanna be Italian' (Daniel barely identified as Italian).

However, all of your uncle Carlo's options had always been footballers which, you and Dia knew, was just a ploy to move you from car circuits to football pitches.

But last night, you found, Carlos Sainz apparently had the Ancelotti tick of approval and he was adamant you and Carlos apparently go out for dinner.

You took your uncle's comments to be why you suddenly found yourself feeling a little awkward seeing the driver in the flesh.

That and the fact that they had led you through a #carlossainzedit deep dive unlike anything before.

You had lost count of how many times you'd heard the "all I see is sainz all I see is carlos sainz" version of the Rihanna lyric.

"Maybe next race you can have her." The Spanish driver - who apparently had your uncle's approval - said. Carlos took a sip from the small coffee cup in hand. He was on his piccolo, you noted.

Carlos came up to you and you felt yourself caught out and taken aback by him openly reaching for the strap of your gym bag and your bottle, prying them for your hands. The surprise had you letting go and once Carlos had a grip on them, he nodded at everyone in green. "See you guys on track." And put a hand on your back to guide you into the home. His clear dismissal towards Lance made you smile and it made your face warm up even more.

Your smile dropped.

What the fuck?

"Um. Thank you." You said, once you were out of earshot.

"He's an idiot." Carlos said, with a tired sigh. This made you laugh.

"You're telling me."

It was then that you realised your laugh was nervous. You cleared your throat. You were going to rip into your uncle. And then yourself for being so stupid. Because this was stupid. You barely ever noticed Carlos. What? You find out he really hates Barcelona and has really, really great hair and suddenly you're tongue-tied around him?

"Ha. Yeah. I get that. And I can hold that." You went to reach for the strap of your bag on his shoulder. Carlos moved away.

"Don't insult me." He said, tsking you with a grin on his face. "Let's go. Fred spoke all morning about your pizzas."

"Yes! I did." Fred said, reappearing with his assistant who was handing him a paper he was half reading as he spoke. "Guenther didn't let me have any last time."

You couldn't but smile, remembering Guenther's loud curses echoing throughout all of Haas when he found you plating some aside for Fred. You gave Fred a salute. "I'll get right to it. Let me just dump my things in the backroom."

"I'll take them there." Carlos said, evidently not relenting. You sighed and let him carry them for you as you both made your way to the backroom.

Unfortunately, this meant walking through the entire motorhome in which case many Ferrari staff did a double take seeing you walk with Carlos. Whilst it wasn't uncommon to see you around, nor for you to have any interactions with drivers - you literally made their food and coffee - but Carlos was holding all your many, many belongings and walking to the small backroom that were reserved for Hospitality.

"Thank you." You said, appreciating the chivalry. What you didn't appreciate, however, was how your body was reacting to Carlos.

You didn't get why you were suddenly so... hyperaware around Carlos. Seeing driver content wasn't something new to you. Why did it affect you like this? Maybe addressing it would just help.

And so your mouth just came out with it.

"My uncle likes you."

"What?"

You quickly elaborated. "He saw a video of you refusing to sign a Barca jersey."

Your uncle had even sent you said video of Carlos, the driver windswept in his Ferrari, driving off when a fan passed him a pen and the jersey. You had to admit he did look good in the video and the way he drove off like that had made your eyebrows shoot up, impressed.

"Your uncle... Don Ancelotti?"

"Yeah." You said with a laugh at the name. The Don. You were proud of your uncle and what he achieved, earning him such a nickname. Dia always said her brother's intimidating Don cigar smoking aura had been passed down to you - and not his own children/your cousins.

You weren't surprised Carlos knew about who your uncle was. It wasn't exactly a secret. And considering the world of Formula 1, that wasn't even the craziest connection for someone working in the Paddock. An Alpine techie was distant cousins with Mbappé, a Haas mechanic was close cousins with LeBron, and Valentino Rossi's babysister's best friend's brother was a PR manager for George Russell.

Also, apparently, you'd heard of a Haas employee who used to babysit Harry Styles or something. You thought the LeBron thing was cooler.

So, no. No one really paid much attention to you and your uncle. The most it had ever come up was the odd few comments of the Paddock's EPL fans coming to you lamenting Carlo Ancelotti moving from Everton to Real Madrid.

"Woah, that's pretty cool." Carlos said, his eyes widening. You knew he was an avid Real Madrid fan since last night's video had let you down something of an internet stalk.

"I definitely need to let my dad know." Carlos said.

"Apparently they know each other?" You asked, hoping he might shed more light on the connection your uncle somehow had to Sainz Sr.

"Do they? He never said." He said and you blew a raspberry. You really were going to give your uncle a piece of your mind. You shook your head and Carlos laughed, saying something that went to deaf ears as he took his sunglasses off his head - causing some strands to fall across his forehead as he was looking down at you.

Fuck.

He used the other hand to run through said black locks.

Double fuck.

The man seriously could've made it as a hair model.

You looked down from his hair to meet his eyes and felt yourself flush even more knowing he'd caught you staring at his hair. You cleared your throat again - when had it gotten so dry? - and spoke. "You um, you could really make bank doing hair endorsements, you know?"

"Bank?" Carlos asked, not picking up the slang.

"Money." You explained the slang and then thought of the Spanish translation. "El dinero."

"Ah, so was it the Don who taught you Spanish?" Carlos asked, lips turning up to grin.

"Nah I don't really speak Spanish." You shook your head and explained. "I just know that word from some from lyrics and stuff."

"Stuff? From living in Los Angeles?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You blinked, surprised he knew that tidbit about you. "I remember you telling Max about it back in Torro Rosso."

Carlos' observational skills evidently had you in surprise. Let alone that he would remember such a minor fact like this - and about you.

"I, uh. Yeah for a year and a bit. I worked in a garage." You explained, feeling more awkward and, well, something else that you refused to acknowledge as nervousness. You didn't get nervous. You had literally served countless celebrities and prided yourself on not getting starstruck or fucking nervous.

And yet, here was Carlos running a hand through his hair catching you off guard with how hyperaware you were of him.

"Ah." Carlos laughed and you stared at the way a thin gold chain glittered around his wrist. "Well, if you know any sponsors you'd recommend, let me know."

"Oh, yeah. Done." You said, going back to the previous conversation. "But I'm expecting a cut, then." You said, opening up a locker and beginning to stuff the bags into it. "Hoy por ti - "

" - mañana por mi." Carlos finished the phrase, amused. "It's different in Spanish, though, you know?"

"What is?"

"English you say scratch my back or something. In Spanish it's more about generosity. You take care of me so I will take care of you next."

"Oh." You said, taking in the mini Spanish lesson. Admittedly all your Spanish came from working with Tyler in the garage on Fairfax Ave and, of course, song lyrics. There had been a few funny conversations with Fernando - but nothing intimate such as I will take care of you.

You didn't really know what to say next. Your face was already flushed and you'd probably be able to cook something on your cheek from how hot it was.

You were going to kill your uncle.

"Also," Carlos casually continued, unfazed - or not noticing - your lull, "there's going to be a game tomorrow night. I'm not sure if you were planning to watch it."

Thankfully, his words momentarily distracted you from the embarrassment. Real Madrid wasn't playing this weekend. Atletico Madrid was. Maybe it was Carlos being from Madrid or following the Spanish league religiously but, either way, it wasn't a game you had intended to watch.

"Oh, I mean I like Griezmann." You said, referring to the famed Atletico player, "but I don't watch La Liga games unless Real Madrid is playing." Besides, if you showed any interest in any other team, The Don would have your head. Your uncle still didn't know you owned a jersey of another team. Even if it was only for Mo Salah.

"No, the Liverpool game." Carlos corrected. "They're playing Manchester United, are they not?"

This was surprising. There had been no indication in the past of Carlos ever caring about any other team besides Real Madrid - let alone being that interested a whole other league. If you ever were going to talk EPL with a driver, it was probably a passing conversation with Lewis. Maybe George if the Wolves were involved. And that was when the drivers themselves initiated the conversation.

Max, and his love for your team's biggest rival Barcelona, was who you used to talk to about football, who you used to stay up and watch games or play Fifa with.

And since that was no more, you sort of lost any passion for it.

So this was very much news to you.

Carlos Sainz. Talking to you about EPL.

More than that - asking you if you were going to watch an EPL game.

"Uh, yeah maybe." You finally spoke. During your drive to work, you had vaguely thought about changing your schedule so as to be able to watch the game. You had played around with the idea of doing a workout after your shift tomorrow so you could stay up after qualifying and watch the match.

The only issue was that this would you mean you wouldn't be able to work out before the race on Sunday - and you were definitely going to be stressed working a whole weekend at Ferrari.

But if you watched it you could stream it on one of the TVs in the driver's gym - that way Oscar could workout with you also.

Suffice to say, you hadn't yet made up your mind.

"Lando and I were going to watch it. He's a fan of Manchester United." Carlos said, looking at you expectantly. "Don't worry, I won't tell the Don."

It was that look which made your eyes widen slightly, the thought suddenly dawning on you: was Carlos asking to watch the game together?

Something erupted in your stomach.

However, your reflex to any driver interaction had immediately kicked in.

"Oh, nice. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to watch it with the schedule. You guys enjoy, though."

Carlos opened his mouth but thankfully someone, a man dressed in the red uniform, appeared in the doorway calling for Carlos. The interruption was very much welcomed as the driver nodded and was resolved to leave you before your body gave you any more confusing signals.

You took a second, a steading second, before you slammed your locked shut and went out to look for Oscar.

-

“And there’s the young rookie, Oscar Piastri. Looking really good after his amazing win in Jeddah. 9th, outperforming everyone’s expectations!"

“Yes! He’s just arrived with his - is that his trainer?”

“She looks tough enough to be one. Wait is that — “

The commentators immediately realise and change the subject to something else to do with Fernando’s winning streak and Aston Martin’s upgrades. You sigh at the clip that had been playing on the TV in front of you. Zak had informed Oscar who had informed you about the conversations had between all the TPs about, well, you.

It was startling to say the least. 

"I'm afraid people are starting to catch on." Oscar's PR Manager said with a stern look as she stared at both you and Oscar. Her name was Sophie and despite her young age putting her in the same ball-park as you and Oscar... it still felt like you both were students in trouble, being told off by your teacher.

Oscar had asked you about a Sophie Wright a few months ago. You briefly knew of the girl from her interning days, following other PR members around the McLaren motorhome over the years. She was a little on the shorter side, the chubbier side and, unfortunately, these two appearance traits meant she was excluded from the other PR girls who definitely already had a group chat going.

However, you also knew this meant she would be good at her job. Sophie could blend in the background quietly, unnoticed and do her job well. You also doubted she would easily jump around for a better opportunity and do Oscar dirty. Then there was the fact that when you served her a skinny latte one time, she made sure to read your name badge and thank you with a genuine smile.

And so you had given Oscar the thumbs up.

Never, in a million years, did you think you would be here though. Getting a debrief from her as Sophie tapped on her iPad. You risked a glance at Oscar who looked indifferent and nonplussed.

"Sorry Soph," he said, "but I'm not exactly aware what this means exactly."

There was some noise at the door and in walked Zak Brown himself. He was still talking to someone outside in the hall and said a 'yep, bye!' and then finally turned to address the room he was halfway in. "Ah, here we are. Just the people I need to see." His eyes fell on you and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

"No trouble at all. I know you're friends with Oscar and just wanting to help him out." Zak said, coming to sit down. "Ah, so you've seen the clips." He looked at the TV where Sophie's iPad was still screensharing the clip from yesterday.

Thursday's media days was always the least loved day for everyone - save for the bloodthirsty journalists. Drivers hated all the mundane questions and the paranoia of microphones and cameras everywhere. And you hated media day because it meant extra long barista shifts.

"Yes, Sophie showed me before but I thought Tezza should see it." Oscar explained, using your nickname. Your heart warmed at how considerate that was. You met his eyes and smiled softly at him. Your love for the kid grew daily.

"Good thinking!" Zak said, nodding agreeably to his driver. You fought to keep your face passive as you regarded the McLaren CEO.

Your opinion of Zak Brown was that he got further than he ever dreamt to get from starring on Wheel of Fortune. And whilst you did admire him for not being brought up in the snobbery and pretentiousness of the generational wealth that F1 tends to circulate through... you did note how he sucked up to the those snobs and their pretentious generational wealth.

Namely, how he did anything and everything for to make Lando Norris happy. In your opinion, it was a lil cringe at times.

"Well, the problem is that it's getting harder and harder for me to just make it out to the rest of the Paddock that you and Oscar are just friends spotting one another at the gym." Zak said. "Christian Horner is running rampant, scared you'll turn Oscar into the next Max Verstappen."

You snorted at this. Unfortunately this drew everyone's attention to you and you knew you would need to explain. "Max and Oscar are polar opposites."

Oscar could very easily become a World Champion without you. He was smart, dedicated and very talented. And whilst Max was all those things, he didn't need someone to train him up so much as tame him down after all that Jos did to him. You guys had just as much sessions on anger management as you had sessions on endurance training.

"Either way, it's coming to be viewed as a breach." Zak said. "And if you breach your contract then - "

"I know." You interrupted him. He didn't need to explain that to you.

"There's also the issue that people think you two are dating." Sophie spoke up from the front. She tapped on her iPad a few times and up came up a few screenshots of Twitter threads hypothesising about the two of you. "Your Twitter had a followed increase of 150% since Oscar followed you. Which didn't help."

"And whose fault was that?" You said, looking at Oscar with an unimpressed look. "You're lucky I deleted that shit so quickly."

"Yeah look, my bad. The timing was off." He said, accepting responsibility. You still remember all the notifications of the Twitter shit-storm Oscar set off. You literally had to delete your account because of it.

"Yes, Christian did bring that up." Zak said. "And it's a good thing Oscar's lovely Lauren is here--"

"Lily, sir." Sophie quickly corrected her boss. You wanted to groan. Oscar just looked down to hide his smile. Under the table, you kicked at his legs.

"Lily! Sorry." He gave a sheepish look to Oscar. "Yes, you and Lily this morning was a good idea."

"Unfortunately, Daniel did like a few of these Tweets." Sophie added, bringing up the screenshots of a Tweet about you and Oscar that was liked by none other than @danielricciardo.

You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palm as you thought of how fucking petty that was. Daniel wasn't a fucking idiot. Aside from the fact that he knew your type - (admittedly, the tall/dark features combination always got you) Oscar was so young.

If anything, you thought of Oscar, genuinely, as a younger brother. As you had Max. Daniel knew that. So he knew exactly what he was doing by liking those kind of fucking Tweets. Tweets you wouldn't put past Red Bull to send out themselves.

Because, if anything, they would be praying it wouldn't be true about you and Oscar. Otherwise Christian Horner wouldn't have any leg to stand on. That was how you got around being connected to Charles, anyway. Family was the exception.

"I know your contract has you tied to only working for Red Bull and Ferrari's drivers but--"

"Red Bull and Charles Leclerc." You corrected in a tight voice, your eyes falling down to the table in front of you. "I was only granted exemption to work with Charles as he was considered family."

This caused him to frown as he pulled out his phone and began typing at it I thought you were allowed to work for Red Bull or Ferrari. No new teams."

"Yeah, no new teams outside of Red Bull and Torro Rosso. Charles was granted exemption from my Red Bull contract because he... he was considered family." You cleared your throat, not able to even look at Oscar. "I was signed for Torro Rosso. Never Ferrari."

"That's not what Toto said at the meeting." Zak said, shaking his head. "He made it seem that you could work for Ferrari." You said nothing. Toto had approached you once or twice but your none answers evidently were enough for him to realise and drop it. You didn't realise he dropped it because he had sought out the fine print.

"Wait so why aren't you Charles' trainer?" Zak asked, looking up from his phone. "He'd be insane to not have you!"

You froze. How were you supposed to answer that? For once, you had hoped the F1 rumour mill had properly run its course and Zak would know better than to ask that obvious question.

"Eh, Leclerc's loss." Oscar interjected with a casual shrug. "Let's be glad we don't need to worry about that."

The hidden meaning behind his smooth words were clear and you felt your love for the boy increase tenfold at his save.

"What - if I may," Sophie started, trying to be sensitive with her wording and her eyes darted between you and Oscar, "what were the grounds for family?"

You took a moment to think of how you might answer. You really didn't want to but if this might help the boy beside you, you would. "Charles -- I, we grew up together? I don't know. Everyone knew."

"You didn't date?" Sophie asked. Your face must've shown something very unpleasant because she was quick to amend. "I'm only saying because the grounds for family are always a grey area."

You pressed your lips together and went back to staring at the table. "There was nothing romantic between Charles and I." You said. The room fell silent for a moment as Zak tapped on his screen a few times and then he spoke up.

"You also trained Daniel. I remember he told me." Zak said and put the phone down and you wanted to roll you eyes. Of course Daniel would say that. "And I don't want to get into all the drama but you were dating him." Zak did have a point.

A key point that you had forgotten.

"I guess so." You began. "It was nothing official in print but yeah, Christian allowed me to work with Daniel since we were... well yeah." You trailed that off, awkwardly. "But yeah, it was fine even though I was contracted to Max under Torro Rosso then Red Bull."

"Hm." Zak said, bringing a hand to his chin as he leaned back, pensive, in his chair. "Well I can see how romantic grounds could be argued." He said it with a laugh, looking between you and Oscar.

You raised an eyebrow at the comment. You honestly weren't sure if this was just Zak Brown being Zak Brown - i.e saying dumb things to suck up since he was out of his element - or if he actually meant that. Either way, it pissed you off.

Because there was no fucking way you'd let that happen to Oscar.

"No it can't. Contracts aside, I'm not forcing someone I think of as my younger brother into a PR relationship with me." You said.

"It could work, though." Sophie said, taking a professional tone as you turned your glare to her. "This is what I was trying to say before. The Twitter comments about you and Oscar are not necessarily negative. If anything you've helped increased Oscar's public image and Red Bull wouldn't able to say anything about you two."

"Yeah, look guys. Tezza's pretty but not my type." Oscar finally chimed in, lighthearted. "Besides, I think we should focus more on the car and that way it's a fair advantage to both me and Lando."

You looked back at him and took a deep breath. He smiled at you, chill as always, and you took another breath. You wanted to give the boy a big hug.

"Look, Zak," you said, looking back at the TP, calming down a little more, "I'm sorry. I'm causing you all this shit."

"You got Oscar into the points." Zak waved off. "Don't worry about it. I just want to find a way that works for everyone." You sucked on your teeth. Whilst it was nice to know that Zak Brown was willing to take risks on you also wanted to know how this conversation would've gone if Oscar hadn't finished 9th in Jeddah last weekend.

Such was the way of F1.

Sophie then tapped on her iPad and the TV showed a picture taken by Ky Millman. It was of Oscar hugging you after the win in Jeddah. Some comments were displayed and you found your lips turning up as you read them. They were, as Sophie said, sort of positive.

kymillman

liked by mclaren, saintescuderia and 15'483 others

kymillman SUPPORT FOR SUCCESS! Oscar surprised many with his amazing performance in Jeddah and goes to celebrate with a F1 Hospitality worker and friend @ynusername!

view all 76 comments

halaaaamadrid girl help his shoe game pls

ln44girlieee @mclaren we need content from this duo plssss u have them right there

logansversion as if mclaren is going to post a couple?

f1fanforever they're friends?

ln44girlieee idc the level of sarcasm between them would be SO GOOD

oscarpastries i love THIS! 😫😫😫

justanotherinchident omg charles finna be RIOTING!

team44roscoes wait why would charles be upset ?? i thought @ynusername was with dannyric?

maxiel4eva_16 yeh 😒 jumping on all them aussies

You rolled your eyes at the last comment. Maybe it was a good thing you were off Twitter and had barely used Instagram in how long.

"It'll be hard to argue to make up that Oscar is family since you haven't known him as long as you did with Charles," Sophie spoke up, bringing your attention back to her, "but we can maybe try to build it up from a PR point a view."

"That Oscar and I are family and not dating?" You asked. Sophie nodded. You looked at Oscar, wanting his confirmation.

"Yeah, sure thing Vin Diesel." He laughed.

"Hey, hey. Fuck you." The grin on your face was contagious and he broke out laughing also. You liked this new idea and turned back to look at Sophie a lot more positively. You were glad McLaren gave Oscar the girl.

"Okay, so what do we do to show the world I've adopted Oscar?" You asked.

"I think you'll find my dad's already half adopted you." Oscar corrected. "He wants to see your Supra."

"That's perfect!" Sophie said, excited. "Maybe Oscar can post a story of the interaction sometime this weekend? Make sure Lily is there. Maybe you can play the tired third wheel of them!" Sophie looked at you as ranted off her ideas. You nodded, feeling tired of it all already.

Whilst it was nice to know there was a plan in place to help you and Oscar continue to work together, you didn't like the way Sophie said for you 'play' a role. The one, sole consolation you had going for you these past few years was the lack of needing to play any PR role. Hearing Sophie speak was giving you flashbacks to times long gone.

"Happy with that gang?" Zak said, placing his palms on the table. "We'll work on building the PR and hopefully that will get Red Bull off our back as we also improve the car!" He stood up and left, not joining Sophie and Oscar as they said goodbye to the boss.

"Wait does this mean I need to actually start using Instagram?" You asked.

"Yes." Sophie said. Then she looked up from her iPad. "Don't you? You were tagged in it?"

"Like, I have an account but I stopped using it. I'm pretty sure I deleted the app." You said, pulling out your phone to see that yes, there was no pink app downloaded. You pressed the download button, knowing what was in store for you.

"Download it. You're already at 1.2k followers." She said, bringing up your profile on the TV screen.

"The fuck? I had like two or three hundred last time I checked."

"Yes and then you started training the F2 winner who follower you after the most controversial Formula 1 Tweet that ever was Tweeted." Sophie said, eyeing Oscar with a raised eyebrow.

"I already said sorry about that."

"Do you know how stressful you made my first day?" Sophie asked, humour on her face. "Nothing like jumping in the deep end."

The app had downloaded and you logged on to be met with a plethora of notifications that suddenly had you overwhelmed. As such, you immediately went out of the app and put your phone in your pocket. You would deal with that all later.

"I'm not using Twitter again." You said, thinking back to the Tweets Daniel had liked. "Fuck that."

"Yes, only uses Tumblr or Reddit over here." Oscar said, pointing to you.

"Tumblr?" Sophie looked at you, surprised.

"Yeah? What of it?" You asked, defensive.

"Nothing. Just surprised. I would ask to follow you but Tumblr is the safe haven of anonymity. I get it." She nodded. "Alright, perfect. I'll draft up a PR plan. In the mean time, do you mind if I review your profile and send you some tips?"

"By all means." You said, half wishing you could give her control of it like Oscar and be done with it. You just wanted to be able to work with Oscar without causing him any trouble and not having to worry about this PR bullshit.

"Perfect!" She said, beaming.

Your phone buzzed. It was a text reminder about you needing to go back to check on some dough you'd prepared. Back at Ferrari. You sighed and stood up.

"Alright, sounds good. I gotta get back to work. Take your supplements and electrolytes. The green one." The last bit was aimed at Oscar as you met his eyes and then turned to leave the room and walk, head down, out of the McLaren motorhome.

You took a deep breath as soon as you made it into the open air. With how things were going, it was likely that you would be having another gym session today. You arrived at Ferrari and saw the back of Carlos' head. You felt yourself gulp and turned to hide behind the coffee machine. Maybe you would watch Liverpool play.

The mention of your connection to soccer was also pointed out in the room you had just rushed out of. Sophie made a small sound and rounded on Oscar, shoving something in his face.

"Did you know that half of Real Madrid are following her? Jude Bellingham just commented on the post!"

She stared at Oscar, hoping he might provide an answer. The young driver just shrugged. "She did say something about her uncle coaching a team." Sophie stared at him, incredulous. "How was I to know? I don't watch soccer."

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams @itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19 @formula1mount @bokutos-babyowl @stampiej @alilcloudy @bingussthirdtoe @sisinever @lilymurphy03 @inlovewmarlenemckinnon @charllleclerc @richardniixon @sp1rl @nikfigueiredo

[mooncrestedwaters]

Been thinking about Rafayel and how he shows his love (especially after his newest card trailer).

On the surface, Rafayel seems like he's an open book. He's witty, affectionate, chatty ect ect

But once you dig deeper you realise that he's that way...but only with the person he loves. He's actually quite reserved and doesn't enjoy being the center of attention, even going so far to say his job is a thing of self expression rather than something he actively strives to make money off of.

With the upcoming new 5* card of Rafayel's, I wasn't shocked that we didn't have a kiss or one where he tried to kiss us (and tbh his sweeter form of affection in wanting to cuddle us and snuggle into our neck made my tummy do flips and had me having a near breakdown from how much it made me gooey)

I feel like Rafayel is a yearner to his core, even his interviewer noted as much that he gave an air of 'romance' to him.

The best way I can describe it is; His love is like his profession and his EVOL.

Art takes time, it takes an observant eye and mind. I've grown up with artists my entire life and to make a painting is much more than slapping some acrylics onto a board and calling it a day. It takes tempering, to prepare the board, to build up layers upon the canvas to correct any mistakes without an eraser or undo button.

It's gentle, tending to the whims of the canvas to make a happy compromise of your own.

Onto his EVOL, Rafayel treats a relationship like a firepit. He wants it to have longevity, keeping himself and the fire alight. So instead of chucking a log onto the firepit he nourishes it with kindling, giving it a poke here and here to check on its status while being warmed by the flames.

Rafayel is also horrifically traumatised from previous encounters with love.

Think of it this way;

He was a Prince. Set to be throned as a King and live with his beloved forever.

He set out to find a devout follower to sacrifice their heart to him in turn found himself giving them his own heart and betraying everything because he wouldn't let a pre-destined prophecy rule himself or his beloved.

When he got his love back, in another timeline they were brainwashed and ended up killing him. The absolute agony you must go through, to be maliciously murdered and know that it's by the person you love but not their intention to do so and in your last breath you grant them mercy to die alongside you by singing them to death.

Moving onto Abysswalker Rafayel, the weight of being told you have to kill your love to resurrect your hometown, taking the love of your life on a wondrous journey to know you have to kill them in the end and instead erasing their memories of you permanently to protect them and keep them alive, rewriting a tome for their sake and thus dooming his beloved kingdom and people to be tormented for eternity of his peoples damned screams of death and agony.

Do you ever wonder if he has sat with himself and laminated over this horrifying fall from grace?

Yet he still does it, for them.

After ruminating over this; I wouldn't be as forward as the other LI either.

I think Rafayel is immaculately brave and loyal for even trying again, for still searching for his beloved over years and years.

He has his insecurities, they show when he gets bratty or needy. Quipping at his beloved for not having their sole attention on him, he's meant to be worshipped after all, doted on, praised for having put in so much effort.

Alas, his love doesn't remember, doesn't see the accumulation of sacrifices and things hes done for them.

So he hints, he prods and pokes gently and he starts having them warm up to him again. Braving a tender word here, a lovingly gentle touch there and moving up and forward until he can see that his beloved has fallen in love with him again.

Rafayel is a love that doesn't burn bright, it burns with stability, it burns with loyalty, it burns with truth and gentle care. He would never want to scorch his love.

Rafayel makes accommodations for them, weaving them into his life in any way, if that may be employing them to inviting them on little excursions. Even keeping a watchful eye over them, noticing when they're in need, hurt or just simply making his presence known as a comfortable 'You can come to me'.

He's a gentleman, a romantic...with a little edge (Rafayel audios I'm looking at you, hard)

Anyways, I should not drink copious amounts of caffeine within a short allotment of time. I hope my ramblings have been enjoyable 🤍🪽

[allthingsfangirl101]

The Reason I Quit – Steve Harrington

I held the test in my shaking hands as I went over the possibilities of how he could react to this. Sure, Steve and I have been dating for two years and are in love. We've even talked about spending the rest of our lives together. But this is big.

About six months ago, Steve and I moved into his parents' house. They moved to California after the "earthquake". When they moved, Steve begged me to move in with him and I did.

This changes things now. A baby changes our situation.

I looked at the clock on the wall and took a shaky breath. Steve would be home in a little over an hour. Which meant all I had to do was distract myself until he got home. To do this, I cleaned as much of the house as I could. Before I knew it, the front door opened and closed.

"Y/N?" Steve called out from the front door. "Where are you, baby?"

I cringed at the last word. I walked out of the laundry room, nervously playing with my hands. I headed downstairs, holding my breath as I waited for Steve to come into view.

"There you are," he smiled. He walked over, took me in his arms, and pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss when he realized I wasn't kissing him back.

"What's wrong, gorgeous?" He asked as he studied me.

"I umm. . . I'm just not feeling that well today," I whimped out. Steve reached forward and felt my forehead.

"You don't have a fever," he noted. "Any nausea? Dizziness? Have you been able to eat anything today?"

"Just some crackers," I said honestly. "I feel like I have a rock in my stomach."

"How about this," he started to suggest with a smile on his face, "we order some soup from our favorite diner. I'll run you a bubble bath while we wait. When the food gets here, we'll sit on the couch and watch your favorite comfort movie. Then we'll retire early and you can fall asleep as I rub your back."

"I love you," I sighed.

"I love you too, gorgeous," he said with a small chuckle. "Let's get your bath started and then I'll order dinner."

* * * * *

I didn't tell him.

We went through the night just like he said and I fell asleep with the secret looming over me. The next day he went to work and I snuck to the doctor. Luckily, she didn't ask me who the father was, but she did clarify that I was pregnant. After she confirmed it, I knew I needed to tell Steve.

To keep myself calm while waiting for Steve to come home, I put my feet in the jacuzzi. I didn't bother to go inside and greet him when he got home. I knew he'd find me. He always did.

"Hey, gorgeous," Steve said as he walked over. "You feeling any better?"

"A little," I shrugged as he kicked off his shoes and sat next to me. I smiled when he reached over and felt my forehead. "I didn't have a temperature yesterday and I still don't have one today."

I giggled when he leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Just checking," he smirked as he pulled away. "Are you sure you're alright? You've been acting kinda strange lately."

"Just worried," I stuttered.

"Baby," he sighed, "we got rid of Vecna. It's been safe for almost a year now."

"I know," I said slowly. "I'm still. . ."

"Hey," he whispered, scooting closer to me. "You know I'll protect you from anything that comes our way. I love you, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that."

I really hoped he meant that.

"I love you too, Steve."

A little while later, we were still by the pool, but we were sitting in the pool chairs. I subconsciously placed my hands delicately on my stomach.

"I'm gonna have a cigarette," Steve sighed as he pulled one out and lit it. Without looking, he handed me the container. He looked over at me when he noticed me not taking one. "You're not?"

"No," I said slowly. He lowered his hand as he studied me.

"Is everything okay, babe?" He asked, his voice soft.

"I need to tell you something," I whispered. He placed his cigarette in the ashtray on the small table between our beach chairs. He turned toward me and grabbed my hands, turning me toward him.

"Talk to me, gorgeous," he whispered.

"I don't want you to be angry," I admitted under my breath.

"I promise I won't get angry," Steve said instantly with a small smile on his face. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "What's on your mind, gorgeous?"

"I'm pregnant," I blurted out, making Steve's hand freeze inches from my face. He stared at me as he slowly lowered his hand.

"Are you. . . Really?" He whispered. I bit back my tears as I nodded. With the hand that he had frozen in the air, Steve reached forward and caught a tear that had escaped. His voice softened as he asked, "Why are you crying, my love?"

"What are you thinking?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"I'm thinking how absolutely amazing this is," he chuckled.

"Really?"

"Of course," he said, his smile falling as he finally dropped his hand. "Why wouldn't I be happy? We've been together for two years, in love for most of that. We've talked about spending the rest of our lives together. Y/N, you're the love of my life and you're pregnant with someone that I'm gonna love just as much as I love you."

"It changes our plan," I whispered.

"I know that," he nodded. "But all it changes is now we're adding one other person to our future. That's an amazing thing."

"But Hawkins. . . A lot of crazy things have happened here in the past five years."

"And we will protect our child from all of it," he said instantly. "Or we could move away."

"You'd really move away from Hawkins? From those kids?"

"For you and our child? I'd go anywhere and do anything for our family."

I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his. I felt him smile as he started kissing me back. He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes. He looked away and grabbed his lit cigarette. I watched as he put it out.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm quitting."

"But. . ."

"You're not smoking because it's dangerous for the baby," he pointed out the obvious. "I'm not smoking anymore because I want to show you that we're on the same team."

I smiled as he stood up and pulled me with him. He started to walk inside but stopped when he noticed I hadn't moved.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"What if I can't do this?" I asked under my breath. Steve instantly pulled me into his chest.

"You can do this," he reassured. "You are going to be an amazing mother, Y/N."

"I'm scared," I whispered into his shirt. I felt him take a slow breath.

"I know, gorgeous," he whispered back. He pulled out of the hug and smiled down at me. "To be honest, I am too. But that's okay. We've got each other. And this amazing, awesome, badass baby has both of us. We're in this together. Every step of the way."

Masterlist

[cobaltperun]

Congrats on the 500 love!! You deserve so much more❤️

Can I request a drabble or something really short of Lost!Tara and Reader where Tara is about to pick up the kids from school while R is out of town doing CEO stuff and comes to surprise Tara and the kids at school but all the people are drooling over r cause she is still in her ceo attire but R only having eyes for Tara and her kids while ignoring literally everyone else. (It's alright if this is weird and you don't wanna write this.)

Lost (Side - 2) - School Visit

Tara Carpenter x female Reader (Request)

Summary: After a brief business trip all you want to do is surprise your family and pick them up from school. (Set between Lost 29 and 30)

Story masterlist

Word count: 0.6k

If there was one thing you absolutely loved about your job, it was that most of it could be done from home, which meant that you could maximize the time spent with Tara and your children. That being said there were still some occasional business trips you needed to leave them for. This one was supposed to be four-day long, but you managed to get everything done in three, so here you were, fresh from the airport and checking the time as you rushed to the garage.

You still had time to drive to the school and pick the kids and Tara up, as long as you didn't waste time. So, while still dressed up in your navy blue three-piece suit with a white button-up shirt underneath you jumped in your car and got going.

It's been years since Tara drove a car, seeing as you being home most of the time meant she didn't exactly need it, so that meant she wasn't exactly keen on driving for the first time in years with the twins in the car. And they were still just seven, so you picked them up from school, either driving or walking there.

When you parked on the school's parking lot you noticed people coming out of the school with their children, so you were just in time. You saw the three of them immediately. Tara, holding Zack and Susan's hands and laughing with them as she listened to them telling her about their day, and you paused. No matter how many times you got to see the scene in front of you, you were always mesmerized, thankful for the family you wished for all your life, though you didn't quite know it until Tara brought it up for the first time.

"Mom!" Zack was the first to notice you and he let go of Tara's hand and ran toward you, with Tara and Susan still surprised to see you walking to meet them in the middle of the schoolyard.

"Easy buddy, watch your step," you easily lifted the boy up and hugged him.

"Mom!" Susan got over her initial surprise and you dropped to your knee so she could run into your arms as well.

"Sue," you went and kissed both of your children as Tara walked over to you and kissed your cheek as you got up with the twins now in your arms.

Tara looked you over, her eyebrow rising a bit. "Baby, maybe you should be more considerate," she smirked cheekily and traced the collar of your suit.

"Hmm?" you tilted your head a bit.

"Let's just say it's good I'm no longer jealous," she whispered, though she still leaned closer, her hand going up and sliding around your neck, just a tiny bit possessively.

"Just a bit possessive?" you chuckled and finally looked around. Some people were staring at you, and you guessed the suit you were wearing did show off your muscles a bit more than your casual clothes did. You just didn't notice all the attention you were getting.

Tara did though. "Just appreciating what others can only look at," she smiled, winking at you.

"Mommy/Mom!" Susan and Zack complained, making you and Tara laugh.

"Okay, okay, sorry about that," you apologized.

"How about we take you on a picnic this Saturday as an apology?" Tara offered, it was a bit of a habit the four of you formed, at least once a month you all went out for a picnic and the twins loved it.

They looked at one another before grinning widely and nodding.

A/N: Come on, you know I had to write a Lost request before most of the other requests, and Anon, you have no idea how thankful I am you requested this! 😁😁💙💙 Also, thanks!

Taglist: @alexkolax

[ifeelthereforeimnot]

GUYS HOLY SHIT I just realized I, at one point in my life, had a Dean.

I don't remember how we became friends, he was just always around until I couldn't remember a time before I'd turn to my left and there he was. And even now, I miss him like a limb I wasn't born with but had grown so used to that I still feel pain where there's nothing.

I realize now that he didn't love me, he owned me. Or maybe it was both. Maybe he didn't know how to do one without the other. But I loved it. I loved being loved. I loved being his. I loved that he had a name for me and only me and would snap at anyone else who used it. "Only I get to call her that." Like a brand, like a collar. And I handed him the leash attached to it, yanking my own head back because the leash is too short but it's the only one I have "here, you dropped this."

He was never impressed by any of the guys I dated. They weren't good enough. He was not interested in hanging out with me and my boyfriend. But he'd always insist I come along with him and his girlfriend. He'd make inside jokes and play funny songs and look into the rear view mirror but never at her. Always at me. "You're about the same size, right?" when buying a gift for his girlfriend. I am. The exact same size. I wonder if he knows that.

"You're like a sister to me," he said. Then he'd hold my hand in class, hidden under the table. Pinkies inching closer and closer until they interlocked, neither of us moving, neither of us so much as breathing so as to not disturb the fragile moment we've created. The bell would ring and we'd pull apart and never mention it again but he'd always sit with his fingers curled around his chair.

"You're like a sister to me," he said into my ear as the wind whipped around us. It was pouring rain but we didn't want to go home. Never wanted to go home. I don't remember why but we were wrapped in each other's arms. It was the logical place to end up. It was safe. It was home. We stayed like that for a long time, pressed chest to chest, cheek to cheek, long after the moment had passed. Long after the intensity had calmed and the passion had simmered and the cold and rain seeped into our bones because we couldn't feed moments like that. We just couldn't.

"You're like a sister to me," he said, turning to face me as we laid on the roof of my old elementary school. It was winter, it was cold, but we had cigarettes and the buzz of adrenaline to keep us warm. We stood at the railing, leaned over the edge and I threw my arms out. He put his arms around my waist, head on my shoulder, go ahead. "IM THE KING OF THE WORLD" and I was. For a minute.

"You're like a sister to me," he said into my hair, loose-limbed and wasted for the first time. I was sprawled across his chest, finally FINALLY. We were always touching but the alcohol lowered every inhibition as to how much. I had only gotten to lay with him once before, after days of no sleep, clinging to each other barely conscious. There was really no other excuse for us to touch this much. So I relished in it, floppy and warm and dizzy myself. "You're like a sister to me," he'd said, "but if you weren't..."

And he just let it hang there. Left me wondering if he'd meant it, if he'd even really said it in the first place. He just left it there like a dark stain on the thinly veiled friendship and now it was there and he acknowledged it and it was there and no amount of scrubbing could get that stain out. Not really. Not completely.

I loved him in a way I'd never loved somebody before. I still don't know, years later, where to place him. He was a brother to me but I'd never had a brother so maybe he wasn't. To call him a friend would be blasphemy, an insult to the way a brush of his fingertips lit up my heart. But to call him more would be a lie.

I can't just put him in a box and tuck him away so that box is just sitting there, still open. It will always be open, I'll always miss that limb. And I think that's why Sam's wife is blurry and his son is named Dean and his impala is sitting in the garage, pristine. He couldn't close the box either.

[rxttenfish]

Asking because I’m extremely curious about this, how did MonProm’s writing get different over time? I remember you saying that the lore and characters feel different, and that it's missing sincere character interactions, too. I know almost nothing about the lore and I’ve only seen a few people mention the characters, so I’d be interested in a rundown of what aspects you think got worse in the series

I wouldn’t mind a very long response since I’m not that active in the fandom, I need to catch up on what happened

sorry for taking so long to answer this! i kinda waffled on it for a long bit, mainly because i started doubting myself again, and whether or not this was me simply overreacting or being tinted by nostalgia or simply being extremely picky and choosy in what i like (the last of which is true, i seldom get into fandoms at all for this reason and stay away from most popular media, but i wasn't sure if it applied here). i've posted about it already, but i'm in the middle of a psychotic episode where i can't feel a lot of pleasure to begin with + most things i do experience ending up solidly in the "very bad" category, so as you can imagine, i really didn't want to mislead and check that i was actually in objective reality.

as it is, this is also when a lot more screenshots started to be posted in the monster prom tag, and that helped me bridge the gap back into returning to the games themselves and feel like i was making a more accurate judgement. if you're one of those people who have been posting screenshots, i sincerely thank you, and i appreciated seeing you in the tag greatly.

for those not in the know — i've been in the monster prom fandom since it first released, prior to even the first additional ending to be added (the "Punch the sun" ending, and i recall the minor fandom drama that happened at that time due to it). my impression of monster prom is very much influenced by this, as what got me into the first game was the fact that the characters genuinely seemed to care for each other and were friends with each other (not merely tolerating each other's presences nor dressing it up, they sincerely thought of each other as friends and were open about that fact), on top of the wide variety of small details and statements that, if taken at face value, could create compounding complexity in the lives of each and every character and had wider implications for their lives.

no, they were not necessarily explored nor even necessarily "real", with so many conflicting events and statements, but i liked this too, because it meant a wider flexibility in what you could imagine, helping to create a more tailored experience for everyone who thought about these characters. this was what i liked about the early fandom too. what was baseline "canon" was so vague and minimal that you could have wildly different interpretations of the same characters' histories and relationships with each other. you would have radically different perspectives on what the world itself looked like, what it was like, that there wasn't really any wrong answers so long as their personalities remained the same. this is where you got the old headcanon of polly and liam being childhood friends who knew each other as humans, or that the world of monster prom was post-apocalypse where humanity itself had gone extinct or only existed in tiny pockets, or my personal headcanon that both monster and human society existed right next to each other and had minimal crossover for petty cultural reasons. this was also prior zoe-as-ro, and there were wildly different interpretations of zoe's personality, with most going for a far more disquieting creepy-cute than the deep nerd we got.

this is why you get stuff like the timeloop theory, where everyone is repeating the same weeks leading up to prom over and over, and are perhaps vaguely aware of it but broadly unconcerned. this is also why it felt like the joke that, the characters were still in high school but were all fully legal adults with most in their 20's, best landed, because it was absurd and strange and didn't quite make sense, but the world itself was inherently absurd and semi-malleable to begin with. realistically, i felt like everyone understood it was making fun of the trope of having adults play teenagers in american sitcoms and wildly casting outside the age range, but for more in-universe explanations it wasn't any different from the way that you would have a large, dramatic ending in which everything changed, but then you'd restart and everyone would be right back at the beginning with nothing different, or even having conflicting events in the same run. it was a dream-logic that fit with the tropes and, thus, diagetically made sense.

to be clear, i don't mind canon having a set, well, canon on which it refers back to itself. i don't mind expanding that or including more things which are set in stone. but there was a perceivable shift in how the games handled this over time, becoming a lot more... bitter, it felt, towards all of these different branching ideas and concepts that, yeah, the people making them knew wouldn't necessarily be "canon" because "canon" already liked to contradict itself so much. most people weren't even sold on any one idea, and there was a much greater sense of enjoying and appreciating all the varying ideas people would come up with even if you personally didn't share them. making the characters be out of character was the real crime, because then it didn't diagetically make sense in the same way, didn't wholly fit.

(again, this is not to say fanon didn't happen and characters weren't smoothed down into a simplified personality that fit these varying fan-interpretations instead of the game itself. certainly damien love/lust was just as bad as it had ever been, and everyone loved to mangle his character into a more stereotypical "bad boy with a heart of hold" all the time. but it certainly felt less set-in-stone about it than it does now, with any deviation from the norm being considered strange and odd and even broadly shunned from the wider fandom.)

all of this is setup for establishing what the writing, lore, and characters felt like in the earlier days. the characters were the strongest part, with their relationships to each other being equally as important. the lore played it fast and loose and was far less interested in setting anything in concrete because that wasn't the important part. the lore wasn't the important part, which was what made it all the more intoxicating to think about, all the more fun to play with.

montrip is easily the biggest offender when it comes to setting everything in all-or-nothing terms and demanding absolutism from the world. broadly i blame the hitchhiker conversations for the worst of it, but i think ultimately the way they handled the entire premise of the game is where this problem stems from. it's not really an exploration in the same sense that you might explore the first game, discovering different perspectives and different people with different relationships to each other. it's an exploration in the sense of a sequel that over-explains the monster, that takes the most boring option out of all those that were possible and floating around and settles on something that was blatant, obvious, typically rejected not because of how novel it is but how trite and par for the course it is in the rest of the genre.

yeah, okay. humans know nothing about monsters and there's a "monster dimension" that exists separately from the human dimension. there's no crossover between the two of them. of course there's a big grand-scale fight between the eldritch powers that zoe used to be a part of, from which not only are slayers the main organization against them, but also the merkingdom has some horse in this race too. it's an urge to make things so universal in explaining them, in revealing connecting threads which unite everything that's ever happened in here, that makes the worldbuilding and lore immediately much more boring than it ever was before.

and it didn't have to be this way! nothing in the first game contradicts any of this too explicitly (see the above, the first game loves to contradict itself), and i would even be happy if this was basically canon but never stated or confirmed to be the big overarching everything going on underneath it all. i believe you should probably know these things about any world that you create and have them in the back of your mind. the difference is that you can know these things and keep them in mind, even focusing on things where its very relevant, and still not reveal them. this is why you have lore bibles, after all. every horror writer knows exactly how their monster works and the full underlying reason for everything that happens, but that doesn't mean the audience will see it or possess this same information too, and leaving it intentionally obscure will make far better stories.

which, this is bad enough, but it wouldn't be the breaking point for me if this was all there was.

but the worst thing of all has to be the slow decay of the very same characters that sold me on this world, this lore, this game in the first place. monster prom is nothing without the characters in it. it's a dating sim, it has nothing but characters to get you to play, and liking these characters are the entire reason anyone would pick up monster prom in the first place.

and the first game pulls this off extremely well. it's all in the tagline: be your worst self. they are, indeed, all terrible people. yes, even that character that you just thought of right now. they all have points in the game where they commit atrocities, where they kill or hurt people, where they do inexcusable things that could not be ignored in a more serious setting.

but that's the point. i think there's something very powerful in creating a character who not only do you love and love their personality and the way they interact with the world, but who also are inapologetically terrible, and to have the humor and the charisma be so good that you don't get bogged down in the "this is awful". likewise, it never feels the urge to really go out of its way to justify what's going on. this is not to say theres no discussion of if someone "deserved it", but usually there's still the sense that the joke is on them, that this is still an extreme reaction specifically for comedy and not necessarily something that can be justified. you can have damien set leonard on fire and have it feel earned, without prompting the needed reaction of what it's actually like to watch someone burn to death.

this is what sets the prank masterz ending apart from the rest of the game, and really establishes it as the first real "bad ending". because nothing that you do or happens in the prank masterz ending is any different from anything else that happens in any other run. you summon evil beings from other dimensions as a throwaway gag on how visiting one location raises your stats. you kill other people and damn them to terrible fates. you watch as body horror happens. the only difference is that, in the prank masterz ending, the laugh track doesn't play.

the rest of the game and the writing echoes this philosophy, this careful interplay of tropes that keeps everything tongue in cheek and yet sincere enough to make sure emotional beats still land when they're needed. the characters feel true to themselves and their own emotions, even when the world is extreme and excessive, when everything else runs on comedy logic.

this is also what i noticed failing first as time went on.

like i said, fanon has always existed and there's always been very specific ideas as to what characters are like in the same way fanon always flattens down characters into the same tropes over and over. scott is stupid and innocent and doesn't know what sex is. damien is violent and hot and too cool for anyone else. miranda is the idiot girl character. repeat over and over and over until you get sick of it.

but it's been an issue as time has crept on that canon has started to approach fanon and began to merge with it. now, scott is so innocent that he can't even curse. polly starts being mean to her friends and saying things that would be very hurtful to hear. the merkingdom isn't really super evil and fucked up, it's just miranda that's like that. they become simpler, easier to digest, streamlined for social media posts and mass-sharing. they become less and less subversions of existing tropes and moreso just another example of them, something else to add to the collection, not their own individual stories.

even further from this, what more complex traits they had are now stated and not shown. polly is stated to be smart and clever in a way that her party girl persona doesn't imply and to be sincerely rather down to earth with the people she cares about, but we seldom ever see this anymore unless its the game specifically trying to make a point about it, in which case it won't let her do anything that implies cleverness and moreso will just outline it in the narration. vera is stated to care for people in a very genuine and heartfelt way, but seldom will get a chance to do so, and every opportunity for her to do so to their faces is missed while she will just outright state it later. it does not feel consistent, it does not feel like any of these are intended reads of their actions. it feels like the devs have something they want to do but no idea on how to actually do so. and forget it if you want these traits to manifest in small ways that show up in unrelated moments and scenes.

the dialogue becomes harder and harder to tell between each speaker, if you are just looking at what's said and not at the pictures attached to it. the characters' distinct voices have been eroded away, so that they speak more and more like each other, relaying the same terms and ideas in the same words. perspective becomes a suggestion, instead of a must.

this is something that started back in monster camp too, as all of the endings in that game felt ultimately the same as every other ending. it's very hard to place or define the full reason why, why there feels like there's no emotional stakes nor investment, why everything feels moreso like selecting different coats of paint and trying to find all the different ending pictures rather than being interested in exploring the characters as characters.

stranger yet, the series that started with the tagline of "be your worst self" has experienced a kind of... softening, for lack of a better word? what i mentioned about being able to handle the balance between terrible people who do terrible things and the light tone of the game starts to change, as abruptly the same characters who were down with violent murder in the first game start to lose their nerve, acting more and more on more typical morality. it's one of those things that feels like it's starting to damage the tone, as abruptly it's not as absurd as it used to be, demands less suspension of disbelief which could buffer and support the rest of the setting on it. there's even a part in one of the endings in montrip which involves current-polly and current-scott looking back on their monprom selves and reacting in horror at how violent and careless their pranks are, in a way that fundamentally felt like it was undercutting and disparaging all the things that felt fun and made monprom what it was.

which is odd, really, because more and more i feel like the characters in these games like each other less and less. the friendships and genuine enjoyment of each others company that brought me to this game in the first place has gone. now they don't mention each other as much, don't care for each other's feelings and reactions as much, aren't as willing to support each other. they are more and more found on their own, relied on their own, seem to seek out contact and interaction with their own friends less and less. it feels like they're all separating out into their own worlds, but also feels like they wouldn't willingly want to interact with each other if they weren't already forced together by some other outside contrivance.

if anything, i'd compare it to every other dating sim out there, where you, the player, are the most important person in these characters' lives, and they only feel ambivalent or antagonistic towards every other character. which, again, is not why i picked up monster prom or why i liked it so much in the first place.

and it's because of this that it feels like the current state of the series has to focus on its increasingly weak worldbuilding and lore, trying to form a more serious foundation without character relationships being so tightly bound together, without the characters themselves being more developed and rich, without an aspect of absurd humor to rely on.

more and more i've noticed monprom has to rely on referencing other series to make itself funny and create humor, which, again, it's always done. it was just easier to ignore back then, if you didn't know what was being referenced, because there was always more going on in the exact same scene to bolster it and give context clues as to the setup and punchline at play. it feels like the current games are much more dependent on you knowing pop culture references in order to have any fun with it, and i'm someone who, again, is very picky in what i like or what i'll seek out. i'm not interested in a stream of references about other things that i would much rather be doing than playing through a game that feels like it hates that i like it at all, when i could, again, just be engaging with the thing that takes itself seriously and knows what it wants.

[definesanity]

Lords and Dames That Sung in The Chapels on a Sunday

There was a library in Laplace, which many borrowed books from. Likewise, there is one in the SPDM, too.

Due to circumstances, the one from the former to had to help the latter, leaving Mesmer Jr. to take the part as the librarian in Laplace.

Which also meant she had to deal with the genius herself.

Every so often, at the exact same time, she always came by. Either to borrow or return a book, and always making sure to say at least one thing to Mesmer Jr. before she left.

It made her want to tear out Vertin's throat and--

Vertin came towards the desk, holding a borrowed book. "Good day, Mesmer Jr."

"...Good day, Vertin." replied the girl who did not want any interaction with any Arcanist ever. "Returning?"

"Yes, I am," she passed over the book to the Mesmer child. "I found it quite interesting, if quite morbid."

It was, of all things, a book detailing Jack The Ripper. Insane.

Mesmer's expression did not shift, but she did look from the book to Vertin. "I did not expect you to enjoy such grotesque stories, Miss Vertin."

"I don't, really," she replied, face equally stoney. "But I found it interesting on the many factors involved with the cases in 1888 Whitechapel."

"'Factors', you say?" Mesmer Jr. replied. No one else was in the library, meaning she had to keep the conversation going. "Like what? The police dogs?"

"Indeed," Vertin nodded, which was not what Mesmer was expecting. "The Metropolitan police failed with a number of aspects; using bloodhounds was one of them."

"I hope you realise that the story isn't true."

"I know, yes; I still find it intriguing. Moreso when you consider the fact we still know not many details of Jack the Ripper."

"And why, pray tell, are you so enamoured with that madman?"

Vertin shrugged. "A current interest. And, it helps to converse with others."

"Ah, yes. Because people would love to discuss serial killers." Mesmer rolled her eyes.

"And what we are doing right now, then?"

"..." Mesmer paused. Then, placed the book back on the shelf. "Are you here to borrow another book, Miss Vertin?"

"No, just wanted to return it." Vertin gave a smile and a bow. "Good day."

She started to walk out.

After a moment, Mesmer followed after her.

"You appearing every day is a plot, isn't it?"

Vertin shook her head. "Not at all."

"You had never used the library prior to my starting there. You must have a reason behind it."

"..." Vertin looked, for once, conflicted. Eventually, she gave a short sigh. "A guilty consciousness. That is all."

"And who's fault is that, hm?" Mesmer Jr replied, her tone clipped. "Need I remind you of--?"

"Mesmer." Vertin's voice cut her off. It was quiet, but Mesmer could hear anger in it.

"Oh? Touched a nerve, did I? I'm surprised that exposed nerve hasn't healed yet, all these years later."

"Mesmer, I'm warning you." Vertin's expression was stormy, eyes narrowed.

"Now you're warning, huh? Could have saved a group of innocent children, had you warned us!" she wasn't shouting, but her voice had been raised.

"Mesmer."

"Oh, no, but you thought you had everything planned out, didn't you?! Our dear little girl, our dear little genius, a leader for a group of children!"

"Mesmer!"

"And look where we are now, Vertin:" she stared directly at Vertin, hatred in her eyes. "Us, alive. And Isabella and The Ring? De--"

SLAP.

It took both parties to register what had happened. Vertin was the first, eyes filled with fury. "THE FOUNDATION KNEW, DAMN IT!"

Mesmer Jr. placed a hand near her right cheek, feeling a stinging sensation. "What did--?"

Vertin grabbed a hold of both of Mesmer Jr.'s hands, and slammed her against the wall, staring down at her, body shaking in pure, unadulterated, anger.

"Every move we made on that day, every fight, every step, even the timing in which we defeated Lilya? All planned by Constantine."

Mesmer had never seen this side of Vertin before. Like all bubbles, you can only make it grow so much before it bursts. And in this case, it bursted violently and swiftly.

"There was no way of knowing I'd lead them to their deaths!" Vertin exclaimed, their voice now slightly hysterical from 4 years worth of repressed feelings and emotions. "And no way in knowing I'd become the Timekeeper!"

She squeezed hard on Mesmer's arms, and the girl knew it would leave rashes. "So for once, in your goddamn life, DON'T. RUSH. TO CONCLUSIONS."

With a rough sigh, she let go of Mesmer Jr's arms. And, without looking back, left.

Mesmer slid down the wall, and looked at her arms. Peeling back the sleeves, she saw red start to form.

She should be hateful. She should go and report Vertin. Heck, she can, right now.

...But then...

Why is it that she feels...

...She deserves this?

----------------

She did not often use Arcanium. But this was an exception.

She used it to stop the rashes from vanishing from her arms, and spent the next day trying to figure out what was going on.

Mesmer Jr. thought on Vertin. Not the Timekeeper, not that small, idiotic child, but Vertin.

And found that, no matter how hard she could, she could not feel any distate towards her. If she tried, all she felt would be... an empty feeling.

Vertin was just... Vertin. A girl thrust into a role she did not want.

Like herself, in some ways.

She rolled down her sleeves, and got to work.

She thought during it, too.

Arcanists were chaotic, it's in their nature.

It was Constantine who showed her that...

She stopped dead in her tracks in her room.

Was that... also apart of what happened--?

"That's a curious expression."

She turned to face the intruder, a mask set immediately. "Get out, X."

X did not listen, that smile on his lips taunting her. "You know, being a researcher, my field often overlaps with others. In this case, I can safely say I can fully understand that you're experiencing some... interesting emotions."

"..." Mesmer Jr. sighed. "No, you know what? I don't have enough energy to deal with you. Good day."

She slammed her head into the desk, and as planned, fell unconscious.

--------------------------------

She woke back up in her own bed. She could tell it was, because she was the only one to have air fresheners in her room.

Her eyes didn't have to adjust to the light, it being low in brightness, and saw a retreating figure.

One with a top hat.

"Wait." she rasped out.

Vertin stopped. Then, turned around.

"Hello, Mesmer." she said. "I... owe you an--"

"If you're going to apologise, then let me do it." she said, controlling her breathing as the headache (unexpected) began to set in. "I provoked you. It was only natural you'd respond, what with so much repressed emotions."

Vertin stayed silent, but she looked momentarily surprised. Not that Mesmer Jr. could blame her. She isn't one to be trustworthy, after everything.

"...What I'm trying to say is..." she breathed in and out, struggling to get the words out. Saying aorry is not something she often does. And for good reason. But in this case...

"...I'm... sorry, for my behaviour."

Vertin looked at her. And then, smiled. "Thank you for being honest. I also apologise, although that is for the..." she trailed off, and Mesmer rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't have kept the rashes if I didn't want to. Whatever you did, it made me think on a number of things; the fact that I have never gotten to know Vertin was one of them."

Vertin, once more, looked quite surprised. "...If that is the case... when you have recovered, would you care to do that?"

Mesmer looked at Vertin. And, for a split second, Vertin swore she saw the lips of the girl upturn. "Provided there is coffee. It is not often that I indulge, and I want to make sure that I do not perish due to boredom during it."

Vertin gave a nod, smiling. And then left, leaving Mesmer Jr. alone once more with her thoughts.

She looked over to her bedside.

It was a music player, and it has a cassette in it. She leaned over and turned it on.

A song she did not recognise started to play. And the calmness to it, like being near a beach, lulled her into a sleep.

She did not recall the dream. But when she woke up, she found her lips in a smile.

--------------------------------------

She drank from her coffee slowly and carefully, taking time to enjoy every ounce of it.

As she said, she did not partake in it often. But if there is one thing Mesmer Jr. enjoys, it is the taste of espresso. A comfort, in a world of stupidity and nonsense...

Speaking of nonsensical, Mesmer Jr. looked at Vertin, who drank heartily from a cup of mocha.

The two sat in silence in the Suitcase. There was no one here but them.

Mesmer Jr. took the time to truly study Vertin. Her face was a healthy flush, and Mesmer could smell remains of soap and deodorant on her.

"For the record, pineapple does not suit you." Mesmer Jr. commented.

"It was the only one I had at that current moment." Vertin replied.

The two, once again, went into silence. It felt... strange. One was meant to hate the other and, yet, that very same person who sat there did, in fact, not hate the other one.

Hatred is an emotion that is something Mesmer feels often, mostly towards those in the ward. And, yet, she felt none towards Vertin.

And it annoys her greatly.

"If you don't mind me asking..." Vertin spoke up. "You have heard quite a bit about me, either thorough Laplace or the Foundation; so, would you like to share anything about yourself?"

"Not particularly," Mezmer Jr. immediately replied. "...But, since you are insisting, there was this one event I can remember from my childhood.

"When I was younger, I just so happened to write down my thoughts or any passing interests on pieces of paper. This came to bite me as, one day, my father noticed them and brought me downstairs.

"'Jane, Jane!' he yelled, waving the piece of paper in his hand. 'Look at how intelligent our daughter is! It is certainly a strange way of seeing the world, but one oh so interesting!'"

Mesmer Jr. looked deeply unimpressed. "My mother took the paper, gave it a quick glance, looked at my father, and said: 'James. These are the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody."

A small but noticeable snort came from Vertin upon hearing this.

"After that, I can't remember any more, because I was sent to the SPDM." she gave another sip of her coffee. "By the way, having all that sugar could lead to a heart attack."

Vertin immediately put the cube of sugar she had in her hand down. "And you?"

Mesmer Jr. took another sip. "I will be fine. I measured the exact amount I needed and used it."

"I've always noticed that you recall the times of ceratin things; it's rare to meet someone with a photographic memory."

"Well, congratulations to you." Mesmer Jr. remarked, and finished her drink. "..."

She looked away. And then, back. "...Thank you for the coffee, Vertin."

"My pleasure," Vertin smiled. And then stood up. "And, before you go..."

She passed a gift box to her. "Here. Sorry if it's nothing special."

Mesmer Jr. gave a non-committal hum and left the room.

She arrived back at her own in the Suitcase, and opened the box.

It was a plant. A very distinctive one, too.

Lycoris radiata. The red spider lily.

She could have simply returned it. And left it be. A memory.

Instead, she held it gently, and stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And, then, as the stared, she noted a feeling inside of her stomach.

A flutter, as she stared at the gift in her hands.

Maybe...

---------------

They met again and again, over the course of three weeks.

During that time, Medicine Pocket was seen entering Mesmer Jr.'s room and later seen leaving via running out, their right hand broken. Both parties deny that Mesmer Jr. had any influence.

During it, both also thought more on each other.

Vertin saw Mesmer Jr. as an enigma, one that had many mysteries, and Vertin was curious about each and every one of them.

She was a girl that had so many things go wrong for her, and no one was there to help pick up the pieces. During that short time, Vertin felt as if she had gotten to know someone she both knew, and did not know both at the same time.

She... loved Mesmer Jr. And she knew that Mesmer would never return it.

To Mesmer Jr., she saw Vertin much like the flower she was given. Mesmer Jr. knew both of their hands were dirty with many deeds, but Mesmer Jr. learnt something during these interactions:

That fluttering was caused by intense emotional responses. In layman's terms, she... loved Vertin.

And that scared her, more than it did disgust her.

She did not want to become the one Vertin loved, as Mesmer did not want anything bad to happen to her.

Mesmer was afraid. Afraid and, she can admit to herself, cowardly.

And, yet...

That gentle embrace gave both new worries and made old ones vanish.

"Mesmer..."

The two stood in silence. A gentle one, once more.

And, very slowly, Mesmer held Vertin, too.

"...Jane."

"Hm?" Vertin looked at Mesmer, who looked back.

"When it is merely you and I, call me by my first name."

Vertin nodded. And smiled to herself.

Jane Mesmer Jr. What a beautiful name.

------------------------------------------

The door opened, and Vertin looked up. "Hello, Jane."

"Don't." Mesmer said, sitting down on her bed. "I know that I said I wanted to try and talk to other Arcanists, why did you stick me with Regulus?"

"She was the only one available."

"..." Mesmer sat in silence. Then, looked up. "My term as the temporary librarian has come to a close. I was informed on my way back five minutes and thirty-one seconds ago."

"Shame," Vertin said. "I... enjoyed you being there."

"You only did to come and see me. And, besides, Jack the Ripper?"

"It was the only book I saw at the time," Vertin tried to defend herself.

Still, Mesmer looked at her. And then, sighed. "I suppose... as far as Arcanists go, anyways... you..."

"..."

"...'

Mesmer looked at Vertin, a very small, but still there, smile on her face. "You are... alright, I suppose."

[acoraf]

A Court of Thorns and Roses.

Page 193:

*SPOILERS, including future books*

Lucien mid explanation of Calanmai to Feyre, after dragging her back to the manor:

...."We do this by conducting the Great Rite. Each of the seven High Lords of Prythian preforms this every year, since their magic cones from the earth and returns to it at the end - it's a give-and-take."

But I have a vague memory of Rhysand telling Feyre that it's a Spring court celebration, and he does not celebrate it.

This tells me that either, if what Lucien says is true, Rhysand wasn't supposed to be High Lord in this book or maybe not even meant to be, because then why is he here? I know he is being held by Amarantha, but you get where im coming from, right?

OR if what Lucien says is wrong, his dad is a perv and performing the Rite in the Autumn court, just to fuck around, and it's just never come up with Tamlin or any other court for however many years Lucien has lived 🙃

Also, if all the other courts have their own celebration, why would the boarders have to be open for this single night? They could just go to their own celebrations...

Or, of course, it's just a classic SJM lore-oversight that didn't fit her story later on. Who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️

[secretobsessionstuff]

it’s so good to have you back! i have an idea for a potential future blair fic. what if blair comes down with a nasty stomach virus compounded with a migraine while on a road trip to somewhere important with dakota? maybe she thinks it’s just a migraine and then well.. shit gets real *no pun intended* haha. it doesn’t have to be a road trip, if that doesn’t inspire anything for you, but maybe somewhere where she can’t get away that easily? no worries if you aren’t interested and if you are, take your time! 😊

Thanks for the no pressure! It helped a lot as I try to get back into this. I wasn't sure if the "pun" meant no scat lol, so there's just emeto. I hope it's okay...don't know how I feel about it. Maybe typos maybe not...but probably typos.

-------------

Blair thought her headache would fade once they left her parents’ house. Seeing her extended family for Easter was always a joy, but she could do without the noise from the little ones. At first, the squealing and giggling upon finding an Easter egg was cute. Inevitably, the happy laughs turned into fits of crying and tantrums when the celebration was over. Though the children weren’t happy to be leaving, Blair had to admit she was looking forward to a silent car ride home with Dakota. 

Two hours into the four-hour drive, and her headache had morphed into a migraine. She succumbed to the pain a while ago by leaning the passenger seat back as far as it would go. Her sweater lay over her eyes to block out the daylight. She wrapped her arms together in an attempt to sooth herself, but it was Dakota’s soft voice that did most of the work. 

“Is it just as bad?” he asked, brushing a hand over her knee. In times of crisis like this, Blair liked to kick off her shoes and sit cross legged. Maybe if she made herself smaller, the pain would shrink as well. 

But no, the pain pushed against the walls of her body. Hey eyes threatened to explode from the pressure; her belly whined to the beat of the blood pumping in her ears. Misery loved company, so her head seemed to have invited her stomach to join the party. 

“It’s getting worse,” she mumbled and shifted uncomfortably in the small space. The bumpy ride did nothing to ease her aches. Every bounce and turn jostled her like Jello. She imagined her brain jiggling against her skull in time with her roiling tummy. “Can you go slower?” 

“Gosh, babe, if I drive any slower, we might make it home by Christmas.” Dakota’s eyes squinted in the sunlight. Keeping his eyes on the road hardly mattered when they were going 40 in an 80, and there were no other cars along the country road. He set the cruise control to the snail-like pace so that he could give his fiancée more of his attention. “If I hold out my arm like this, you can lean against me.” 

Blair just groaned and sat up straight in the seat. The sweater fell from her face, making her wince at the harsh light. At the same time, the car rolled in and out of a pothole. Her stomach rose in her throat. “Really? You couldn’t have gone around that?” Her tone was as acidic as the liquid that burned her esophagus. 

“I’m doing my best, Bee.” Dakota took his hand off her leg. “I know you don’t feel well, but don’t get mad at me just ‘cause I’m the only one here.”

That hurt. Not as much as the sword through her head, but it stung nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” she said, miserably wrapping her arms around her midriff. “I just feel sick to my stomach, and this bumpy ass road is not helping.” 

Dakota opened his mouth to provide comfort, but Blair was not finished. 

“And the sun is so fucking bright, and what is that horrible smell? It’s like burning rubber.” Blair pouted. “Why does everything in the universe hate me?” 

Dakota gave her a lopsided smile. “Well, I’m in the universe and I don’t hate you.” 

Blair scoffed and cracked a small grin. “Stop being adorable. I’m dying here.” She had to admit, his joke allowed some tension to ease off her shoulders. She wasn’t alone and everything wasn’t terrible. There were many things that were terrible, but her partner was not one of them. “…Thank you.” 

“Aw, you know I just want you to feel better.” Dakota reached his hand out to rub her belly. “I’m sorry this migraine came at such a bad time. It’s making you feel sick?” 

She nodded. “The nausea is bad this time. Usually I can ignore it.” 

Dakota must have let the Easter bunny take the wheel while he scanned her face. “You do look very pale. Are you going to throw up, you think?” 

She shook her head, then immediately regretted the decision. “I hope not. I’ll try to fall back to sleep so that doesn’t happen.” 

Ironically, it was the nausea that kept her from sleeping. The pain in her head swelled with her bloated belly. All that chocolate coated her insides in a thick layer of gooey slime. When she began to burp, the taste of Terry’s chocolate orange made her gag. 

Blair was alert now. With wide eyes, she clamped a hand over mouth. She forced down two more burps or else she knew Dakota’s car would be ruined in seconds. “Babe—” she began, feeling a tightness in her throat that pinched her words “—Pull over. I need to be sick.” 

Without hesitation or issue, Dakota brought the car to a stop. "Wow sleep did not happen, eh?"

What a stupid time to ask a question.

Blair threw the door open with just enough time to lean over and burp wetly over the ground. She gagged, bringing up a small wave of vomit. It was mostly coffee from the afternoon. The bitter flavour clung to her tongue, but it would not stick around for long because there was much in her stomach to get up.

"I'm right here," Dakota said with a hand on her back. "You're okay." Blair leaned further out of the car with the next heave, nearly falling onto the grass. He caught her arm. "Oh, maybe you're not. Hold on, I'm coming around."

He turned off the car and jogged to the other side. Luckily there were no cars with them on the road. If Blair wanted privacy, she picked the right place to lose her lunch.

Her lunch was fertilizing the grass. Hopefully the open field would thrive on half digested chocolate, coffee, and cubes of cheese that were no longer in the shape of cubes.

She coughed and burped in between waves. "Ugh, Kota, help..." She reached out for him and allowed him to help her out of the car. They staggered like drunken lovers until their knees met the earth.

"I got you." Dakota held onto her shoulder and pulled her hair away from her face. "You're doing good."

"...my head..."

"I know." Dakota kissed her forehead. His lips met unexpectedly warm skin

"...my tummy..."

"I know." Dakota did not lean down to kiss her tummy because the organ chose that moment to convulse again. He heard a gurgling sound in Blair's throat before she pitched forward and heaved a mostly-liquid bout of sick onto the ground. Dakota rubbed her back. "Oh my Bee."

Blair fed the flowers one more time, shedding tears from the force of each retch. The vomiting released pressure from her head but did nothing to ease her belly; it only reinforced the ache that dwelled in her gut.

Dakota's lips still tingled from the heat of the kiss. He knew then that he had to get her home fast. They would need to go much faster than they had been, but at least a bed would be waiting. Blair couldn't suffer like this while on the road.

The universe agreed that Blair should not be in the car.

When Dakota went to start the car again, the engine gave a mighty good try, but failed. Dakota swore under his breath and spared a glance at Blair who still sat in front of a puddle of sick in the grass.

"No, please, no." He took the key out and tried again. "Come, on come on."

The engine tried, and tried, and...nothing. It was just as fatigued and sick as his girl. He called the doctor for only one of the patients.

Defeated, Dakota returned to Blair's side. By the looks of it, she hadn't thrown up again. He sat down next to her with a dejected sigh. "I have bad news."

"I heard."

They both sighed and sat unmoving on the grass. Blair's gaze was lost in her thoughts or maybe her pain. Dakota's gaze never left her. Her red cheeks, grey lips, and dark eyes worried him. He reached out silently with the back of his hand to touch her forehead.

Blair looked up at him with glassy eyes. "More bad news?"

"Yeah." He scooted closer to her and kissed the side of her head. "Remember when I got an infection while camping and got a really bad fever?" Her expression told him that she remembered, though not fondly. "This might be something like that, at least until the tow truck arrives."

"I knew the migraine was different this time. I just don't understand where this bug came from."

"You were around children all weekend. What do you expect?"

• • •

Blair slept in the backseat of the car while Dakota kept watch. She put her head in his lap and tried to ignore the gurgling in her tummy. Again, Dakota came to the rescue and gently rubbed the warm skin of her belly.

He wasn't sure how long he traced circles and lines over her stomach, but it was long enough for the sun to begin setting. He made a game out of spelling different words with his fingertips. In invisible ink, he wrote words like 'love' and 'Blair' and 'dildo'.

Occasional gurgles emanated from her belly. Dakota worried that Blair would bolt upright and tell him to pull over as if the day would repeat itself. But she stayed asleep. Her expression softened in her slumber.

Amazingly, she only woke up when Dakota moved to greet the tow truck driver. With the plan settled, he returned to the car.

"Honey." Dakota shook her awake. "We're going home now."

By the time Blair came to her senses, the car was ready to be hitched to the truck.

This was bad. Blair paced along the road, bitting her nails. She watched the car be lifted partially off its wheels. This was very bad. The driver spoke to Dakota and then went into the truck. Very very bad.

Sleep was good, but her belly did not like being awake. Suddenly the nausea came rushing back. The headache was gone, but the virus had nowhere near run its course.

"Babe, you ready?" Dakota called. She did not move. He came closer. "Honey, are you alright?"

With tears in her eyes, she shook her head. "I'm going to throw up in the car. I can't. I feel really sick again."

"Okay, okay, no worries." Dakota tried to calm her down. "I'll explain the situation to the driver and he'll understand."

Something wet and horrid squirmed in Blair's stomach; it was the dread of driving in a gross truck while feeling like this. But it was also the very real bug that filled her throat with nausea.

"Please don't make me do this, Kota." She covered her mouth to hide a wet burp, but she could not keep the moan from escaping. "I don't feel good."

She was losing colour by the second. Dakota felt like he was approaching a timid animal. "Okay, we can wait. It's fine."

"I don't like this. I don't wanna--urp--throw up again." She paced with her hand glued tightly to her mouth. Her legs shook and her back spasmed with the need to lurch forward. She felt the gag rising from the pit of her belly.

Dakota touched her arm. "Baby, just let yourself be sick. The man can wait. And if you need to throw up in the truck, just do it. I'll tip him well."

She shook her head.

"I'm right here. Nothing bad is going to happen." He started to gather her hair in his hand. "That's it. Lean over. I've got you." She moved her hand away and retched emptily. It was like her belly was shy as well. "Let it happen, Bee."

Maybe it was Dakota's hand on her back or the fact that she wanted this day to be over, but Blair gave in to her need. She relaxed her muscles just long enough for them to squeeze tight once more when the sick came rushing out of her mouth.

"Good job," Dakota said. "Five stars. Encore."

Blair gave an encore, not that she could help it. She would not have given it five stars.

In the end, Dakota's encouragements are what saved the day. She felt secure enough in her tummy to get in the tow truck. Dakota did indeed explain the situation just in case, but it was not needed. Nor was the bag needed. Thank God. The truck had three seats in the front. Blair hid herself behind Dakota who took the middle. It was a long drive, but a clean one.

"I'm sorry this happened, Blair," Dakota said softly when they were five minutes from their house. "How are you feeling, now?"

"Better maybe." She squeezed his arm. "Thanks for being the one thing in the universe that is right."

[barcaatthemoon]

priorities || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you being late brings up a lot more problems.

"shit," you swore to yourself. you couldn't be late again, alexia had really been on your ass. there were talks of benching you until you could show the team that you wanted to be there. it wasn't your fault that your parents left you to fend for yourself. their reasoning was that if you wanted to act like an adult, then they'd treat you like one. it didn't matter that you weren't old enough to drive yourself anywhere like to practice.

you were a sweating mess by the time that you had gotten to the stadium. the last four blocks from the bus stop to work had been sprinted. you hated having to make that trek normally, but it was even worse whenever the weather was as hot as it was. all you could do was get ready and hope that jona didn't want to talk to you privately.

"nena, where have you been?" all of the team was staring at you as you made your way onto the field. you searched for alexia's eyes and immediately wished that you hadn't. she was looking at you with a look of pure disappointment, like you had completely disregarded her last lecture to you.

"(y/n), come with me," alexia told you. her tone was stern, nearly as much as her expression. you were practically shaking in your boots as you followed her away from everybody else. if she would have just pulled you to the sidelines, it wouldn't have been so bad, but alexia walked you fully away from the field over to the tunnels.

"alexia, before you start, i'm sorry," you apologized. alexia didn't even acknowledge what you said, which you knew meant that she was angry with you. you shrunk back before she even started yelling at you, glancing over towards where the other players were barely visible on the field.

"that does not mean anything to me when you continue to arrive at practice late. how many times do we have to talk about this? before when you played it was for fun, but this is your job. you aren't just here to practice and play in games, there are more responsibilities that come with being a member of the senior team. i am done with babying you, so until you can prove that you're willing to do what is needed like arriving on time, you are on your own." alexia didn't once raise her voice. she walked away from you and back to the field. you stood there with your lip trembling as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

you just barely managed to compose yourself before you joined the team on the field. jona made you run laps while they did their scrimmage games. during lunch, you sat by yourself. alexia was usually your lunch partner, but you assumed that she wanted nothing to do with you.

"hola, nena," irene greeted you. none of the girls liked seeing you sit and eat alone, but irene was the only one alexia wouldn't get onto for sitting with you during your punishment. if anything, alexia trusted her to lecture you as well.

"hola irene," you mumbled. you didn't look up from your plate of food, which you had been pushing around for the past 20 minutes. there were only ten or so minutes left before you had to move on to watch film and go to the gym, but you couldn't bring yourself to take a single bite.

"you should eat. you ran a lot in practice and we're going to the gym later. it would make me and some of the other girls feel a lot better if you would try to take a few bites," irene said. you glanced up at her, which was a mistake. almost immediately, tears returned to your eyes. you practically sprinted out of there to avoid letting them see you cry.

none of the girls came after you. alexia did a good job of keeping everybody away from you while you all watched film. you had your little notepad to take notes, mostly on your opponents since you already didn't get much playing time. a few of the younger girls kept staring at you, and several times you found yourself meeting vicky or jana's gaze.

the gym wasn't much better. you kept your head down and only used machines so that you didn't need a spotter. you kept to areas where nobody else was, and any time that you thought someone was approaching you, you'd leave. once you finished your required reps in the gym, you went out to the field, knowing that you had to run laps after everything.

there wasn't anybody watching you on the field when you first got out there, but slowly, more and more of the girls filed out to the seats to watch you. you didn't pay any attention to any of them. you wanted them to leave so that you could get home, but they didn't budge. and so, you kept running and running. at least an hour had to have passed, possibly more before your body started to forcibly slow down.

"nena!" mapi called out as she watched you drop down to your knees. you had been mid-run, and while it didn't look like a blowout, mapi was paranoid. she took off in a sprint towards you, as did most of the backline that you had been playing with. "are you okay? where does it hurt?"

"mapi, back up, give her some space," alexia said. at that, mapi shot up and lunged at her captain. it took everybody except for lucy getting between them to keep them away from each other. alexia was pulled away from you completely while lucy dropped down to check on you.

"hey kiddo, just breathe for me, okay? can you breathe with me?" lucy asked. she motioned for you to inhale and exhale with her slowly. everybody had been so caught up with the thought of you being injured that they hadn't really checked on you until lucy. she got you sitting up, which was when you clung to her in a hug.

"i was so scared. i just stopped breathing," you told her. there was no holding back your tears. you sobbed openly into lucy's shirt. the medics were waved off, but they left a bottle of water and some options for a snack with the girls on the pitch. "i don't know what happened."

"you overexerted yourself. it's been a busy day for you, and patri mentioned that you looked a little tired when you got here. did you sleep okay last night?" lucy asked you.

"i slept fine," you promised her. lucy ran through a little checklist of questions before marta interrupted her.

"how did you get here nena?" marta asked. at that, you glanced down at your hands and mumbled out the truth. you hoped that none of them would hear you and drop it, but that wasn't the case.

"speak up." this time, it was irene's stern voice that forced it out of you. there was a gentleness to it that alexia's lacked, which was why you repeated yourself for them in the first place.

"i took the bus, then walked," you answered. you weren't proud of admitting it, knowing how dumb that was. irene and marta's faces dropped at your words. they knew how far your home was from the first bus station, and then the other four blocks was not exactly light travel.

"if you ever need a ride anywhere, you tell one of us, got it?" marta leaned in and cradled your face in her hands. "i don't care if it is for something stupid, you call someone."

"yes ma'am," you said quietly. there was still a bit of wheezing when you breathed, but you had pretty much stopped crying. "i'm not in trouble am i?"

"not for this nena, not for this," irene said. she left you to go talk to jona and alexia. patri and pina offered to take you back with them, promising that the three of you could have a fun sleepover with vicky and jana if you were up to it. you were in the locker room changing when alexia came up to you again.

"(y/n), there are some things that i would like to say to you," alexia said. she seemed nervous, which threw you for a loop. you were so used to alexia being confident and sure of herself.

"go ahead," you muttered quietly.

"i am sorry for being so harsh on you earlier. that isn't fair to you, and i will work to be better in the future. irene informed me of how you've been getting to practice, and i figured that your house is not too far from my apartment complex. if you are okay with it, i would like to pick you up for practice. we may need to come in a bit early some days, but i have full confidence that one day you will have captain duties." alexia cracked a small smile at you, one that helped relax you a little. "you don't have to, but it would mean a lot to me if you accepted my apology."

"i do," you said quietly. a part of you was just doing it because she was your captain and you didn't want alexia to be mad at you. still, you appreciated that alexia sought you out to apologize for being so strict with you earlier.

"nena, are you ready?" pina asked as she poked her head into the locker room. her eyes fell to alexia, and pina stepped fully into the locker room ready to square up with her captain. "is she bothering you, nena?"

"it's fine, pina. ale was just apologizing. let's go, i want to take a nap before vicky's parents drop her off," you said. pina helped you carry your bag out to patri's car. both women kept a close eye on you, seeing you as their responsibility to look after. you were like their child, not that any of you would say it to one another.

[wcmensworld]

(—) ★ spotted!! oliver hurri on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 25 year old looks like thomas doherty, but i don’t really see it. while the dancer / actor is known for being confident my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be dishonest i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song starboy by the weeknd. { he/him, cismale } - don't look at me, i'm ashamed ( laice )

basics

full name: oliver connor hurri nickname: log age: twenty-five gender: cismale pronouns: he/him hair color: brunette eye color: blue sexual and romantic orientation: het occupation: dancer / reality star tattoos: same as fc piercings: none favorite season: summer favorite color: blue favorite music: r&b, rap, drum and bass favorite animal: bear.

biography

oliver had grown up in a household that was far from safe and loving. his father had been playing an intergral part in a new york gang and he wanted oliver to take over that when he was old enough. he trained oliver from a very young age, how to fight, how to kill, how to get any result he wanted out of someone. and for the longest time, oliver had wanted to impress his dad. he wanted to be this fighter that his dad so desperately wanted him to be. his mother was m.i.a. oliver never really knew what had happened to her, if she was alive or not. with the world he grew up in, it wasn’t that hard to believe that something could’ve happened to her. and with a father like his he wasn’t entirely unconvinced that he hadn’t done it himself. but he knew better than to question it, and after all how could he really be sad of the loss of someone he never knew? instead he liked to pretend that she made it out and was thriving somewhere, even if it was without him, none of that mattered as long as she was okay and safe.  for a while oliver was the apple of his dad’s eye, did everything that was wanted and expected of him, did things that still haunt him to this day. but oliver’s dream was very, very different. he loved to dance. and everyday after school he told his father he’d found a combative training club, but really he was going to dance club. he could do contemporary, lyrical, ballet, jazz, but his biggest passion was hip hop. he put in the hours and the work to improve himself. any chance he got he was dancing. it was his escape from the world he’d been born into and hated. and all was well until oliver posted a video to youtube, it was a dumb idea in hindsight, he never thought his dad would find it. but it blew up over night, it had millions of hits and as soon as it started trending, his father became aware of it. he believed someone had dobbed him in, and he was pretty sure it was his uncle. he always hated him because oliver was next in line for the family business when he wanted it. what he failed to realise was that if anything happened to his father, oliver would have gladly given over the reins to him, he wanted no part of it. 

he still can’t think about that night. how angry his father had been at him, what he had done to him. but it had become more complicated now. oliver had been seen, was getting calls and emails and requests. he couldn’t just sweep this under the rug. so an agreement was made, oliver could pursue his career of dance and everything that came with it, as long as he stepped up to his duties with the gang. he wasn’t tasked with what his dad called ‘little boy’ duties anymore, but the real world stuff. and oliver hated it, but it was for his own survival that he agreed. and from the ages of 15-20 he followed what he was supposed to do. he advanced in his career, was hurled into the world of movie and television appearances, did dance battles and when he was 19 even did an appearance on love island. he managed to stay in the spotlight hiding a big secret, one that he was more ashamed of than anything. 

when he turned 20, it all changed. his father lost, got shot by one of their rivals. and in a frenzy everything had to be moved underground, hidden until they could be back on their feet again. and oliver knew that was his time to flee. he left his uncle one simple note saying that the gang was all his as long as he never contacted him again and he left england, made a new life in america with a vow never to return. now he was entirely career focused, although a life like that was hard to leave behind, there were things he’d done that he couldn’t undo. but he put it all into his dancing, it was his own form of therapy. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS: 

best friend- the person he can have fun with, mess around and just be young for a while. 

most trusted- this person knows the whole of oliver’s heinous past, everything he’s done. he trusts them more than anything in this world. 

dancers- anyone he’s worked with on dance, this could work for reality television too actually. 

exes- exes of any kind, oliver is a difficult person to love because he never opens his heart enough so this can be really angsty if we want it to be 

current hook up- can have feelings attached, doesn’t have to have feelings attached.

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

I think I just read my first tragedy.

It was good.

I do want to fistfight the devil though.

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

'I just don't believe in/understand it!' well unfortunately for you I just don't stop existing as an agender person bc you don't believe in it. I'm not fucking tinkerbell.

[theduchessofnaxos]

This paper is actually going quite well.

Too bad it's complete bullshit.