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#fic talk
carmyboobear · 1 day
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blood orange chapter 1: the walk-in (carmy x reader🔞)
🩸link to chapter🍊
here’s an aesthetic post to highlight parts of my fic that I like! I had fun so I’m probs gonna do this for my fic alexithymia as well <3
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opheliablackpotter · 3 days
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A little bird told me Marlene Mckinnon and Dorcas Meadowes made this in my school's bathroom. Who knows 🤭
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anghraine · 1 year
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I do appreciate getting AO3 comments that encourage me to keep going! But I got a comment on an on-hiatus multi-chapter WIP that said absolutely nothing about it being unfinished and just listed things they liked, and it was really sweet.
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glowing endorsements from other fandoms regarding hrpf, today
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viennakarma · 2 months
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Satisfaction [Part 2]
PART 2 OF SATISFACTION
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Summary: Four times Lewis tried to apologize, and one time he didn't need to.
Word count: 4.3k
Tags: female!reader, apologetic!Lewis (finally), physiotherapist!reader, a little bit of romance, Lewis is trying, reader is more forgiving than the author would be, cursing, a bit angsty, happy ending, not beta read
Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Note: I'm so sorry for taking so long with this! I had a writer's block specifically with this one. For everyone who sent me asks about it, I read everything, sorry if I didn't reply to all! Luckily, one dramatic anon sent me an ask saying they would graduate college with a doctorate before this came out, and it made me laugh out loud BUT it actually sparked something in my brain and I managed to write, lol. So, thanks, Dramatic Anon, I owe you one :D
I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes (haven't had the time to proofread).
Find me on Twitter!
I.
“Hey, Lewis! How are you doing?” Angela said as soon as she picked up his call, and Lewis held his breath before answering.
“Yeah, uh, I’m alright-”, he scratched his face nervously.
“I hope you’re not giving Y/N a hard time anymore, yeah?” Angela joked a little, her voice light.
“Oh. You know about that?”
“Yeah, I called her a few days ago to check in how’s the work and she mentioned you were not very receptive,” Angela said and Lewis noticed that, even saying that, you didn’t call him what he was. A complete prick. “And since she didn’t call again, I assumed things got better between you two.”
“Well, about that-” Lewis sighed, not knowing.
“What?” Angela paused, her voice suddenly serious again.
“She resigned. And it was entirely my fault.” He ripped the band-aid off.
“Lewis, what the actual fuck?!”
“I was awful to her. Way worse than I assume she told you. And before you call me every name under the sun, I need to contact her and apologize. Unfortunately, she blocked my number now, so if you can kindly let me know her address, so I can apologize.”
“You better fix this mess, Lewis.” Angela said before ending the call, as less than a minute later, a text popped up on his screen, your address. Which was in London, not very far from his own neighborhood.
Lewis sent flowers to your place with a small note apologizing and asking you to unblock him. When you didn’t answer and didn’t unblock him, he called the florist he had ordered to double check if you had received the flowers. You did. So you just didn’t want to talk to him. He kept sending a bouquet every day for the next three days. On the fourth day, as he was back home, he decided to go to your place himself.
He brought another bouquet, ringing the bell in your house. He rose the bouquet to cover his face, and he heard your voice, opening.
“Hi there, buddy! If I give you a hundred pounds, would you not bother bringing these flowers here? Just- throw them on the bin or something-” You stopped abruptly as the flowers lowered revealing not the young delivery man who’s been bringing flowers to your place every single day, but Lewis Hamilton himself.
“So you’re not even receiving the flowers?” He asked, sounding hurt.
“I got the first one, and I have no interest in anything that comes from you,” you managed to say, looking him straight in the eyes.
You looked exhausted, your hair was messy and your face lacked any makeup. But worse of all, you looked hurt and angry. 
“Wait, let me just- let me apologize, I can explain even if it’s not-” He dropped the bouquet, pleading.
“Just fuck off, ok? You have not a single reason to be here today.”
“I was an ass to you and-”
“And now we’re nothing. We are just strangers, nothing more, nothing less. Fuck off!” You said and didn’t even give him a second before slamming the door on his face.
II.
So the flowers were a no.
And he wasn’t sure where to go from that, since he couldn’t come up with any other way to make you at least give him a chance to talk.
He was still trying to think of something when he crossed paths with Oscar Piastri during media day. Lewis stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the rookie driver munching on a little protein bar, the package showing it was the same as you had offered him weeks earlier.
“Hey, there, Oscar!” Lewis greeted him, “if you don’t mind me asking. Where did you get this?” He pointed to the little package in his hand.
“Oh, Lando’s new PT! She’s covering for Jon as he’ll be a few weeks on paternity leave.”
“Oh, is she here?”
“At McLaren, yes.”
Lewis nodded, going straight there, not bothering with explaining why he was there just walking in. He found you in a small room with Lando. You were guiding him through a stretching session with a silicone stretching. Lando was telling you something and you were laughing, a hand on his shoulder as Lando pulled his arms in and out.
“-no way you said that! Poor thing, she must have been scared!” You said, then you two laughed.
You were looking healthier than the last few times he had seen you. You looked like you had been sleeping well, and your hair was pretty, and you were wearing make up.
As Lewis approached, and you noticed his presence, you stopped laughing, face getting serious and focused on Lando.
“Oh, hey man!” Lando greeted him, smiley and unaware of the thing between you two.
“Hi. Y/N, can I talk to you? I just need one minute then I’ll leave you alone.”
You scoffed but didn’t look at him, and Lando looked from your face to Lewis’ confused with the tension suddenly so thick he would be able to cut it with a knife.
“Y/N, can you just-”
“You’re all good, Lando. Tomorrow we do another session an hour before Free Practice, and then a stretching session between FP1 and FP2.”
Lando nodded, unsure of what to do so he just watched as you turned away and packed your bag, leaving with long strides through the door. 
“Mate, I don’t know what the fuck you did, because I’ve never seen her be mean ever since I met her. Good luck, though, seems like you need it.” Lando said, leaving to the opposite side.
Lewis muttered “fuck” before going after you. He found you outside the motorhome, and ran up to block your path, but he miscalculated and you ended up running straight into him.
“What the fuck? Dude, just leave me alone!” You tried walking past him but he blocked you again.
“Please, I’m so sorry! Really, I am, I was such a dick to you and you didn’t deserve any of that.”
You didn’t look at his eyes, adjusting your bag as you sighed.
“I just- I don’t understand why you are doing this. I’m no one, I’m nothing. Just go on about your life.”
“No, no- You’re not nothing. I’m really sorry for the way I treated you when all you offered me was kindness.”
“Fine! Ok.” you muttered, seemingly exhausted, “Can I go now?”
He knew you didn’t actually forgive him, so he just let you go because he didn’t want to pressure you into something you were visibly not ready for. It didn’t mean he would give up, just that he needed a different approach.
III.
Lewis managed to find out that you’d stay a few more weeks working with Lando, so he arranged a well crafted plan to have you listen to him.
Desperate times asked for desperate measures.
So he managed to talk Lando into letting him drive you to the track that weekend, you two would have time to talk on the drive. He waited behind the wheel watching as you went to the backseat to leave your bags, then you opened the passenger door, smiling and chatting. But you stopped smiling as soon as you sat down and noticed him.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, sounding more annoyed than angry.
“I’m your ride to the track today.”
“I’d rather not,” you muttered, removing the seat belt you had just put on.
“There’s no one else to take you there, please, just let us go,” he asked softly. You sighed, putting on the seat belt again and he smiled reaching the cup holder and offering you a cup of coffee, “got you a coffee.”
“Thanks,” you took it begrudgingly, but as you took a sip, you noticed it was your favorite, “how do you know I like this coffee?”
“You told me, during one of our sessions.”
“I thought you weren’t listening to a single word I said,” you scoffed, almost disdainful. He took it, because taking your anger was little compared to what he did to you.
“I listened to you.”
“Weird way of showing, then.”
You stared at the road he was softly driving. You didn’t like his company, that much was clear, but he was on a mission, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to properly apologize. 
“I don’t even know why you treated me like trash,” you muttered suddenly, sniffling like you were trying to contain the tears, “just- I was so happy, you know? I’ve always been a fan of Formula 1, watched it growing up and everything. Then I get here all happy to achieve the greatest dream and I just get treated like shit from day one. I tried to be funny, I tried to be kind, I tried to be silent, and none of it worked. I don’t understand what you want from me now! I’m a person too, ok? I get sad and frustrated, and I have my own problems, but I don’t go around making everyone else’s lives shit just because I’m mad!”
“Yes, you are right. I treated you like shit when you never deserved it. I really regret it, for what it's worth,” He sighed, looking at you for a moment before focusing on the road, “my life was shit. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I was just coming out of a relationship that I thought meant a lot to me, and I just lost Angela, who is one of my closest friends, and I was on the verge of losing my seat. It felt like everything was going wrong for a few weeks.”
That made you pause, turning to stare at him.
“What do you mean, losing your seat?” You sounded genuinely curious, and even a little worried.
“The negotiations for a new contract weren’t going ahead, and I was really worried Mercedes was going to get rid of me.”
“But you’re like- one of the GOATs! Why would they lose you?” Now you sounded exasperated, like you couldn't believe that. 
“Well, now everything is alright and signed, but it felt like I was really at risk back then.”
You stayed silent for a few minutes, mulling over his words, trying to wrap your head around his excuses. You were thoughtful the rest of the drive, until Lewis pulled up in a parking lot at the track. Finally, you nodded to yourself.
“I forgive you, Lewis. Just- Don’t do that to anyone ever again, it’s not cool,” you said, unlocking the seat belt, “thank you for the ride and for the effort in apologizing. Goodbye, Lewis.”
You took your bags from the backseat and left after waving at him again. It felt like a closed chapter to you, and you could bury whatever resentment you felt towards him. It was freeing in a way.
IV.
Lewis didn’t see you for a couple more race weeks, despite casually walking in front of McLaren’s garage and hospitality. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of you and he genuinely worried that your last goodbye was definitive.
Fortunately he saw you again late at night after a race. Almost everyone had left already, and Lewis had a long debriefing meeting with his team, so it was sheer luck to find you on the way to the parking lot, where you were standing against the wall, hugging yourself under a big coat and holding your bags. You seem worried and unwell.
“Hey,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t ecstatic to see you again, “are you ok?”
“Yeah, um- I missed my ride back to the hotel, so I’m trying for an uber or something,” you said, but Lewis unnoticed how you were pale and your lips looked dry.
“Are you sure you’re ok? You look like you’re about to pass out.” He pointed, and you breathed in, slowly. You felt very, very cold, with shivers up your body that you miserably trying to contain.
“I’ve got a little fever,” you mentioned, finally. Lewis raised his hand and touched your forehead, feeling it way more warm than a little fever.
“Little fever? You’re burning!” He exclaimed, putting his own Mercedes coat over you, then taking your bags and putting them over his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.”
“You don’t have to, really-”
“I’m not leaving you here in the late hours of the night while having a fever! Now, come on!”
He held your forearm, worried you’d stumble and fall or something. With a big umbrella to face the rain, he guided you to his car, where a driver was waiting. The two of you sat on the backseat as Lewis instructed the driver to take you to the hotel.
“Should we take you to see a doctor or something?” Lewis asked.
“No, don’t worry, I already took an antipyretic. It should work soon.”
Back in the hotel, Lewis accompanied you up to your room even when you wanted to refuse, but he said he was worried, and it felt honest, so you let him take you up. He didn’t let you say anything as he pushed the door of your room and walked you inside.
“Are you still feeling cold?” He asked.
“Yes,” you put your bags away, but you watched as Lewis went into your luggage, “um- excuse me?” you crossed your arms, annoyed at him going through your things.
“Change into this, it will keep you warm,” he tossed you a sweater and matching pants, “I’ll ask room service for soup, so you can warm up.”
Huffing, you went into the bathroom and changed, glad because you were in fact a little bit warmer. You wore socks for the cold and got into bed, where Lewis helped tuck you in, pulling the duvet tight around you.
“Why are you doing all this? We’re just strangers, Lewis.” You shook your head, watching as he walked around the bed and sat beside you over the duvet.
“We’re not strangers, and I wanted to help,” he shrugged.
“We are strangers, we know nothing about each other,” you muttered.
“Well, I’m Lewis, my favorite color is purple and I have a dog named Roscoe,” he said which made you chuckle a little, “there, not strangers anymore.”
“Well, I’m Y/N, my favorite color is yellow and I don’t have a pet yet, but hopefully soon.”
Lewis eyed you carefully.
“I know you’re with McLaren on a temporary contract, so I was wondering if you’d be willing to come back to Mercedes after that,” he said, slowly. You sighed, shaking your head.
“I won’t go back, Lewis.” You said softly, for him to know you weren’t angry anymore, but the world had spun, life went on…
“But- Ellie said you were such a big fan! It’s ok if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I’ll understand. But I don’t think it’s fair that you lose your chance in such a big dream because of an asshole like me!”
“There are always other dreams to have, Lewis. When a door closes, others may open,” you untucked your arm so you could hold his arm in comfort. He held your hand, and when he felt your cold hand, he rubbed it softly, to warm you up.
“It’s not fair-”
“Lewis, I’m moving to Madrid in a few weeks.”
He stopped, visibly deflated hearing your words.
“I’m so sorry, I should’ve never-”
“Lewis, it’s not because of you,” you pushed the duvet, freeing yourself so you could sit up beside him, backs to the headboard, “I got an amazing offer from Real Madrid. I’m gonna join their PT team.”
“Oh.”
His stomach dropped once again, thinking that life would lead you two different paths, new future, new plans, and Lewis won’t even be able to make it up to you through time as he was hoping for. Lewis expected that, with you coming back to Mercedes, he would have time to apologize with actions, more than just words.
“They’re my favorite football team, and I’ve always dreamed of getting there,” when you noticed how down he was with the news of your departure, you pressed his hand a bit more, “I told you there are many dreams to achieve.”
“You wouldn’t have to worry about it if I hadn’t been so-”
“That’s enough, Lewis, it has nothing to do with you. This is my choice, something that I also dreamed of. It’s not the end of the world. If anything, there are lessons in what we went through.”
He wanted to ask you to stay, to give him and the Mercedes dream one more chance, but he knew it would be selfish of him to ask that. And he wasn’t willing to be selfish with you anymore. He would only have maybe a few more weeks with you, that he intended to nurture a friendship with you.
When your soup arrived, he stayed and watched you eat, and you thanked him profusely as the meds started working and you felt the fever dissipating.
V.
Lewis ended up going back to McLaren to find you all the time. Sometimes he brought a coffee for you, some other times he just wanted to invite you to lunch, or he wanted a protein bar, and after almost two weeks of that, his excuses ran dry and he only said he wanted to check on you. and he had been checking on you for a couple more weeks now.
“So…” Lando muttered with a knowing smirk, “you and Lewis, uh?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, as you spotted Lando from behind, analyzing his squats.
“You went from hating him to becoming his friend pretty quickly,” Lando pointed.
“And…?”
“I don’t know but he’s here all the time to see you.”
“Nah, he’s just passing by.”
Lando let go of teasing you and switched topics to talk about something else for the remainder of your session. After you finished and Lando went for the post race debrief, you were getting ready to leave when Lewis found you again.
“What do you want?” You squinted your eyes at him. Lando’s teasing voice still in your head.
“Moody, are we?” Lewis joked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
“Lewis.”
“Fine, fine! I’m taking you to dinner later today, ok?”
“Are you asking me out or demanding?” You frowned, pretending to be moody.
“I’m inviting you and implying I’m not taking no for an answer,” He winked.
“Lewis, I don’t think we-”
“Think of it as a farewell, celebratory dinner, yes? You’re leaving so soon to Madrid! Pretty please?” He joined both hands like he was begging.
“Fine. Stop pouting.” You rolled your eyes and he giggled, before leaving.
He texted you two hours later saying he was coming to pick you up. You dressed cozy and comfortable, since it was absolutely not a date. He texted you to let you know he was downstairs when you were finishing with your hair. As soon as you got in the car, you checked Lewis’ outfit.
“Is this ok?” You asked, pointing at yourself.
“It’s perfect.”
Lewis drove for forty minutes to the next town over. In the end, he took you to a cozy restaurant, small, a little cramped but so familial and cozy. You two sat in a corner booth, far from the windows. You went over the menu as Lewis explained that this place’s food tasted homemade and they also had vegan options, so he always went there whenever he was in that part of Italy.
You told Lewis everything about your move, how you had found a great apartment close to work, how you had enrolled in Spanish classes to start a month after your arrival, and everything.
After a hearty meal and chatting a lot, you two decided to go for a walk to eat some ice cream. The air was windy but not very cold, so you just walked side by side a little late at night.
“Are you sure nobody will see us?” You looked around to see if anyone had recognised him or had taken pictures.
“Yes, it’s very discreet in this part of town. Besides, it’s a little late, so not many people are around.”
“This is a very good gelato, Lewis! Thanks for taking me out today.” You muttered as the two of you walked around a big, dark park. You stood under a lamp post, finishing the last of your ice cream.
“How are you feeling about Madrid?” He asked you, looking interested.
“Nervous. Excited. I don’t know.” You whispered, smiling, you held the lamp post and let it take your weight as you flung around, all smiley because of the bit of wine you had at the restaurant, “It’s like a new adventure. You know when you’re about to do something that might be risky but gratifying? You’re scared but you have to-”
As you completed a full 360 around the lamp post, you were met with Lewis walking up to you and kissing you. He pressed his lips to yours, firm but tender, and it took you a while to assimilate what was happening. You held his coat and pushed him away only enough to break the kiss. The lime gelato kiss that had your stomach full of butterflies, and your heart beating almost out of its cage.
“Lewis-” you shook your head, still confused.
“Sorry, I- I just couldn’t pass on the opportunity,” he sighed and his breath fanned your cheek.
“We shouldn’t,”
“Why not?” He raised one hand to cradle your face, his thumb running your cheek.
“Because we started too messy. And- and I’m leaving soon. We don’t need to complicate things.”
You whispered, still not pulling away fully. You wanted it, so bad. But you knew you couldn’t get tangled in a messy situationship right before leaving. He was tempting, but you weren’t willing to risk whatever time was left of your silly little friendship.
So you took a step back. Still, you took his hand in yours, letting his warmth engulf you.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, but you just smiled at him, seeing how he was memorizing your face, and how your eyes were shining bright for him.
“It’s ok. Just, wrong place and wrong time, right?”
He gulped, nodding.
You didn’t kiss again, but Lewis held your hand the whole drive back to Monza.
Understandably, Lewis didn’t come back for your last week at McLaren. Despite being a little hurt about his absence, it didn’t really upset you, deep down you knew that it was better like this. The distance would make the goodbye easier for the man who wormed his way into your life. The whole team at McLaren gave you a farewell cake, which was sweet considering you were just a temporary hire.
You had tears in your eyes saying goodbye to the team and to the formula 1 track.
After that, you went back to London to finish packing, and shipping a few of your furniture and belongings. The dinner with your family and closest friends was filled with tears, and you finally caught up with Angela, explaining everything that had happened.
When the day came, your parents and siblings took you to the airport and you said goodbye with teary eyes and a heavy heart.
You were about to board when a sudden commotion caught your attention, and from between the crowd Lewis Hamilton emerged, running towards you as if he were in a marathon. Confused and shocked, you waited for him to get closer, and as soon as he stopped in front of you, he held your face with both hands and pulled you in a kiss. After two seconds, you returned the kiss, deepening it by opening your lips. He devoured you for a couple more seconds, before pulling away when you were both panting.
“Lewis? What the fuck?”
“This doesn’t have to be a goodbye, right? We can- I don’t know, we can figure it out,” He muttered, face close to you.
“Lewis,” you hesitated, “I’m moving away. We’ll spend most of out time in different time zones-”
“Wouldn’t you like to try? It’s better to try than spend our lives haunted by what ifs” His argument was convincing. And the fact that he was just centimeters from your face, and the fact that you had just kissed and his cologne was divine… Very tempting.
“Lewis, the next time you cause a scene in front of an entire airport, I’m killing you,” you whispered, pecking his lips once more as the crowd dissipated of people boarding the plane.
“I wanted it to be memorable, like a romcom.”
“You’re annoying, that’s what you are. You’re lucky you’re handsome” You rolled your eyes, but Lewis could still see the big smile on your face, eyes glinting.
“Is that a yes to my question?”
“One date, Hamilton. And we’ll see where it will go from that” You smiled, pushing his chest, taking a step back.
“I’m going to Madrid as soon as the triple header is over,” He promised, pulling you close again by the waist.
“You better! I don’t know, maybe I will meet a handsome Spaniard,” You joked, playing hard to get. You closed the distance so you could whisper in his ear, “You better work if you want any prize, pretty boy.”
He gasped at your seductive words, and you pushed him away. He smiled at you. Pulling one of his necklaces, he put it around your neck, a pearl one, very beautiful. The airport called all the passengers for the flight.
“A promise. Yeah?” He said, holding the necklace softly.
“Yeah. See you soon?” You nodded.
“See you soon.”
He watched as you walked away, and before boarding, you turned around and blew him a kiss. He laughed, pretending it hit him right over his heart.
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bettyfrommars · 2 months
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18+MDNI
say goodnight
an ode to fic writers who burn the midnight oil
You’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long at this point, cursor flashing with accusations of neglect.  You take a big swig of the drink next to you, and then start to nibble at your thumbnail, unblinking eyes going dry behind smudged glasses. 
That’s when you feel his hands press down onto your shoulders, warm and strong, his lips grazing the back of your head.  “I miss you,” he says, kneading like a cat on the taut, stressed muscles of your neck. 
He’s been waiting for you to let him know his next move in the story for hours.
“Come to bed,” he cups the front of your throat and his tongue finds the shell of your ear with a tender flick.  “You’ll figure out what to do with me tomorrow.”
“But I need to know,” you gulp against his grip, eyes fluttering.  “I need to know what you will say, what you will do. I want to be close to you.”
“Be with me now,” he drags a finger across your bottom lip and your tongue darts out to taste him. “Close your eyes, I’m right here.”   
“I might hurt you this time, it won’t be pleasant,” you warn, watching the cursor blink through hooded eyes. 
“Hmmm you know I love it when you challenge me,” he murmurs, nuzzling the side of your head. “You always make it up to me so good.”
Your breath is shaky as his hand traces down the front of you.  “Please don’t leave,” you gasp at his touch.  
He drags slow kisses down your neck. “I’ll be here waiting right where you left off. You’ll always have me as long as you never let me die.”
You swallow an exhausted sigh, clicking the tab to close out of your document. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Wait for me.”
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pb524830 · 15 days
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i'll do it myself
pairing: paige bueckers x reader word count: 1k c/w: sexual content, language a/n: just a little smutty smut because i've really been thinking about paige's fingers lately LMAO
“Nah, but that shit’s funny to you, isn’t it?”
Paige’s breath is hot against my ear as I unlock the door to my apartment. She’s drunk, her large hands already pushing up my tank top to span my bare waist.
“He was just being nice,” I grumble.
“And you entertained it.”
“I didn’t entertain anything. I said thank you and walked away,” I roll my eyes. Secretly, I’m pleased. I love when Paige gets like this, all bothered about someone else looking at me. She fucks so good when she’s jealous. 
Why won’t this damn door open?
Paige’s lips fall to my bare shoulder and I sigh as she places open-mouthed kisses there. Finally, the door clicks open and she shoves me inside. “Shouldn’t have even talked to him,” she mutters, her eyes dark as she slams the door shut. 
She pushes me into the wall, a hand at my neck, and I gasp. “Shouldn’t have looked at him,” she growls, attaching her mouth to mine in a searing kiss. I smirk against her mouth. “Didn’t know it would get you this mad, P,” I try to excuse, but she rucks my shirt up and pulls away. 
“Yeah, you fuckin’ did.”
She tears my bra off and grasps my tits, kneading them harshly. My head knocks back and I moan at loud. “You like that?” She demands, pulling at my nipple. “You want more?” 
I nod desperately, reaching for the hem of her shirt. She stops me.
“Say sorry.”
I blink. “Excuse you?”
“Say. You’re fucking. Sorry.”
“No way!”
“Then that’s all you get.”
She pulls back and stalks into my bedroom. I stare after her in shock, the wetness between my legs and the throbbing ache at my nipples painfully noticeable.
“Paige, come on! You want to fuck me just as bad as I want it right now, quit being ridiculous!” I yell after her, following her to my bedroom.
She tugs her shirt off, letting the white garment fall to the floor. Then she turns to me, smirking, taking my face in one hand, her fingers splayed.
“You’re right, baby.”
Paige steps closer, smirk widening. Her pupils are blown wide. She licks her lips.
“I wanna fuck you so bad.”
I pout at her.
She tuts, teasing my lips with her fingers.
“Wanna make you feel so good.”
I sigh at this, and she pushes her fingers into my mouth. 
“I’m so fucking wet thinking about it.”
I moan around her fingers and she grins.
“But we both know I can make myself come.”
She pulls her fingers out of my mouth and shoves me away, her fingers wet with my spit. 
“Paige, stop.”
She strips out of her jeans, tossing them to the side. Then she slips her boxers off, along with her bra. 
“You’re welcome to watch.”
I whimper as she lays back against the bed, her back nestled in my pillows. Fuck, she looks sexy. Her hair is silky and smooth, falling down her tanned shoulders. Her collarbones jut out as her chest heaves, abs constricting with her breaths.
She spreads her legs, and her folds are positively glistening. “Last chance,” she warns. I walk to the edge of the bed, planting my knees on the frame at the foot of it. I shake my head defiantly.
Then two of her long fingers circle her clit, slowly, and she lets out a quiet “Fuckkkk”. My knees buckle. She keeps going, speeding up, before dipping a finger into her entrance and groaning.
“Yeah, that’s good,” she whispers, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. I grip the foot of the bed harshly.
Then a hand comes up, squeezing her tit. She flicks her own nipple, then tugs it harshly, eliciting a purposeful whine from her throat. I bite my hand to keep from moaning.
Then she plunges her second finger in and her back arches, and I do moan this time, watching her fuck herself, hearing the sound of her fingers sliding through her own wetness.
I can feel my rope of resolve fraying, the ends splitting.
“Fuck, baby,” she groans, her thighs starting to shake. “Wish this was you.”
It snaps.
“I’m sorry!” I gasp, but she doesn’t stop. “Yes,” she pants. “Oh, fuck, I’m close.” 
“Paige, I’m sorry, please just-“ I almost beg, clambering onto the bed and wrenching her hand away from her pussy to replace it with my mouth. She moans desperately, bucking her hips against my lips.
“Yeah, baby, just like that. Eat my pussy like that, shit.” 
I move my mouth to her clit, pushing two fingers into her, and I feel her clench around me. “Shit. Fuck, I’m gonna-“
The sound she lets out when she finishes is guttural. Carnal, even.
I moan into her pussy while she finishes, grabbing her ass to ride her through it.
She falls back against the bed, panting hard, running a hand through my hair when I look up at her. “I knew you’d fold,” she breathes, exhausted. I grin at her from between her legs.
“You have plenty of time to do that at away games. If you’re with me, you come for me. We clear?”
She laughs. “Don’t talk to other people and we don’t have a problem.”
I raise an eyebrow at her, then roll my eyes. “Guy at the bar probably would have made me come by now,” I muse nonchalantly.
Paige’s smile drops and her eyes cloud over.
There we go.
“You’re gonna regret that.”
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womaninwinter · 2 months
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love is stored in AO3 comments
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paradoxlemonade · 10 days
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Sure sometimes a fic is out of character by canon standards but it's internally consistent and makes sense within itself and that is enough for me
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ocontraire · 2 months
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42 and 67 for the tropes? With Lando+Oscar? 💕💕
Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story. 
The Big Damn Kiss + Character in Peril (im using lando's vegas crash for this)
so i know im late to the vegas thing... i know im very late to the "scary crash means we need to write comfort" thing (honestly i kind of love that it's a thing?? idk bud) but i'm still going to write it. or. talk about writing it?
ocsar sees lando go into the barriers in vegas. his heart would fold into neat squares for anyone, the sinking feeling all racers get in their chest when that shower of sparks and those shuddering barriers come, the knowledge, suddenly, that for all the safety measures in the world, they're still sailing along at however many hundreds of kph in cars kept on the ground mostly by aerodynamics.
For Lando, his heart doesn't fold into neat squares. no, it crumples like a tin can underfoot, fragile. he keeps his eyes forward, lets the engineers tell him that lando is responding - not okay, they don't say okay, just responding - a few seconds too long after the sparks fade from his mirrors.
it's not - he's not in love with lando, or anything. they can't. but he knows himself well enough to recognize why he can never manage to tear his eyes away when lando smiles, to know why he feels so restless in the hand when Lando looks over at him with his sharp eyes gone gentle.
but he can't. so he keeps his eyes ahead and keeps moving. lando responded. he has to finish the race, all else comes next. so he takes his tin can heart and finishes the race.
when he returns to the garage, the engineers all hold a certain tension to their shoulders. and lando isn't there. probably still in medical, he thinks, until someone mutters something about an ambulance, but he's still moving. There's media to do. his heart feels crumpled further. he has to keep moving, though, there's no telling what - lando will be fine. they said he was responding, that he got out of the car on his own, he'll be fine.
media passes in a blur, he can't concentrate, really, but he keeps his expression as flat as he can. it's cold here, an american desert in the early hours of the morning, all these accents a little strange to his ears, but he can't listen.
and then lando appears. oscar is leaving, really, or about to. his debrief was a little shallow, a little tense, the whole team glancing at their watches, at their phones. lando hit a bump in the track, they're saying. they don't say anything else on the subject, just continuing on with the debrief and checking their phones for updates. but he's leaving, ready to go home and stare at the wall until lando appears again, when he comes wobbling down the paddock.
Jon hovers by his shoulder, looking exhausted, and he's still wearing his race suit. he has a jacket over top, probably jon's, three sizes too big and dwarfing him, making him look small and vulnerable. he's smiling for the cameras, but his eyes look tired. dark-circled and clouded, his features sharp and shadowed.
oscar feels like he's been stepped on again, crushed into the pavement. lando sees him and smiles again, a limp little thumbs-up while jon frowns even harder.
he recedes further into the garage, hidden where the cameras can't get to him. and he waits. lando enters after a few moments, every orange polo in the place watching him, and goes straight to will. oscar stays buried in the throng, watching. waiting. he looks okay, lando - probably drugged up to his ears, exhausted and a little wobbly on his feet, tiny in the massive coat, but fine. not like he's struggling to breathe or anything.
but he goes back in the direction of his room, heavy-bodied and slow, and oscar should have a little more self control. he doesn't. he follows. they're at the moth of the little hallway, still, when oscar catches him, placing a hand as soft as possible on his shoulder.
lando turns, already murmuring that he's okay, really, and oscar can't help himself. they don't touch, usually, not like this, but when he pulls lando into his arms, he doesn't protest. and he smells like hospital antiseptics and burning rubber and oscar - he might cry. he won't, but he might.
because lando's back moves with his breathing, a small, slow shift under oscar's hands, his face tucked against oscar's shoulder, and he's okay. he's breathing, he's there, and all of a sudden oscar is feeling all the fear he didn't let himself feel before, all the heart-stopping worry and desperation, all of the sharp realization that if lando was hurt - if he - it would be bad. for oscar. not as his teammate, but as something more.
and lando sighs, beginning to withdraw from his grasp, still sharp, still tired, but soft in the eyes, gentle like he knows what oscar is thinking, and oscar places his hands on either side of lando's jaw without thinking of it. there's a whole garage full of engineers right around the corner, jon is somewhere behind him, and lando's eyes finally look a little bit more alive. just a bit more.
"i'm okay."
oscar kisses him. it's a little desperate, not planned, not a part of his careful plan to let this crush die, probably a little too rough for someone who just got out of the hospital, and lando is kissing him back. lando is kissing him back. what the fuck.
somewhere behind him, he can hear jon sigh, but lando pulls back slightly and grins. the incandescently happy kind, all sharp and blinding and beautiful, and -
"I still have to go to debrief."
"mm." it's admirable, really, but it's also a plan that keeps oscar from being able to hold him still and safe for the entire foreseeable future.
"wait for me?"
he nods. yeah. that, he can do.
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mead-iocre · 9 days
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do you have a current WIP list?? love ur writing sm x
thank you so much anon <333
but yes I do I have a WIP list: (all Leah fics though lol)
Wife? Wife. | leah williamson x reader
Another instalment to the 'reader annoying Leah with tiktok trends/pranks series'. Based on a tiktok trend where reader starts calling Leah "wife" instead of girlfriend.
Château Lafite-Rothschild | leah williamson x reader
Leah doesn't like reader's new boyfriend.
Our New Normal Pt. 4
Reader settles in with Arsenal, and moves in with Leah. This time maybe it's Leah who has something to confess.
You can catch up: Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3
Football Scarves and Football Shirts (pt 2) | leah williamson x reader
Leah takes reader to another arsenal match and reader finally gets a chance to purchase a scarf with Leah's face on it.
Read Pt 1 Here
(don't have a title for this one yet) | leah williamson x reader - 18+ nsfw
spit or swallow?
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seven - p.b. | chapter six: august slipped away into a moment in time
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seven masterlist
∘°∘♡∘°∘pairing∘°∘♡∘°∘
paige bueckers x fem!childhoodbsf!oc!charlotte
˚₊‧✩word count✩‧₊˚
3.2k
。・:*:✧。authors note 。・:*˚:✧。
we have made it to the start of senior year!! everyone cheer!! my plan is to start jumping around it time a bit more so. hope you guys like it and give me all the feedback please!! i love it so much!!
August 7, 2019
Third person point of view
August meant the start of senior year. It meant that the leaves would soon start to lose their color and fall to the ground. A familiar chill returned to Hopkins as winter began to cast its shadow over the last few moments of summer. Shorts had to be replaced with leggings and sweatshirts. Iced chai lattes turned into warm ones. The reality of starting another school year began to settle in. 
 Paige couldn’t have been more excited to finally be a senior. Sure, she was dreading the start of another school year. She’d described the very idea as ‘hell’ on numerous occasions. Luckily for the blonde, senior year would be a cake walk. She’d already committed to play basketball at the University of Connecticut, so her future was set. She’d gotten her dream. She wouldn’t have to spend hours filling out applications and writing personal essays. She’d already gone through the grueling recruitment process that was much easier for her given her status as a basketball prodigy.  All that was left for Paige to do was manage to graduate by not failing any classes and win another state title with her team. It was no big deal for the blonde really.
Charlotte on the other hand was absolutely dreading senior year. Unlike Paige, her future was still very much in the air. She would still have to apply to nearly 15 schools, hoping to get into one with a great program for her desired major. She’d already spent countless hours typing away trying to create the perfect personal essay that reflected who she was while also making her appear as a desirable candidate that any school would be lucky to admit. Her schedule for her last year of high school was anything, but light. While Paige opted to take a few easier classes to preserve her GPA and allow her to actually enjoy her last year in Hopkins, Charlotte had done the opposite by filling her schedule with 7 AP classes. Her parents and counselors had advised against it, but she knew that she could handle it. 
The first day of school came faster than either girl had hoped. They clung onto the final moments of summer like it was a life raft in the middle of the cold ocean. They knew what was coming, but just knowing didn’t prepare them at all. They opted to live in a state of delusion to prevent them from having to face the harsh realities of what their future would hold. As much as she loved her best friend, she didn’t think that she could let herself turn down an opportunity of a lifetime. She isn’t sure how she will manage to survive without Paige, but they will find a way. They are going to have to. 
Paige shows up that morning wearing a pair of skinny jeans, rainbow vans, and a pink flannel. Charlotte isn’t the least bit surprised by this outfit. She found the blonde’s lack of style endearing. She wouldn’t change Paige for anything. She loved Paige exactly how she was. The other girl had begged Charlotte to teach her how to do her makeup as well as her. Charlotte gave her some tips, but she hadn’t done exactly what Paige asked for. She liked that Paige needed her to help her get ready before big events. She would never admit it, but it eased her mind to know that Paige still relied on her like she relied on Paige. Without Paige, who would kill spiders for Charlotte? Who would drive her to school every morning even though she had a perfectly functioning car? Who would instantly be able to tell that something was wrong with her? Who would reassure her that everything was going to be alright? Charlotte didn’t realize yet, but it wouldn’t be long before she would have to find answers to those questions. Answers she didn’t know she would ever need to know. Answers that would almost kill her. 
Charlie’s sitting next to her sister, picking at the plate of food in front of her. Eliza is rambling about how excited she is for her first day of school. She tries to listen and be engaged in their conversation, but her mind is racing with anxiety. First days brought unknowns. Charlotte hates unknowns. She hates not being in control. Not being in control means that she can’t protect herself. She feels a weight lifted off of her when she sees her front door swing open, her best friend standing in the doorway. Drew comes darting into the house as Paige strolls behind him. The girls are going to take their siblings to school since they have first period off, one of the few senior year perks that Charlotte chose to indulge. Drew climbs onto Charlotte’s lap and her mom places a plate of food in front of him. Charlotte’s smiling for the first time that day as Drew rambled about how excited she was. Paige heads to the stove, quickly wrapping her arms around Charlotte’s mother. She offers her help which is promptly denied as the older woman points to the char mark on the wooden floors that the blonde caused. They both laugh as Paige makes her way over to the table. The seat next to Charlotte is usually  left empty on purpose. Even if Paige isn’t family by blood, they all know that seat belongs to her. Today, Eliza is sitting there. She knows what she’s doing. The 12 year old looks up to Paige like she is the most famous girl in the whole world. She will do anything to get Paige’s attention. Paige smirks and shakes her head when she sees that her seat is occupied. She lifts the girl up and sits her on her lap. The 12 year old is bright red and smiling as she talks to Paige who  immediately picks a strawberry off of Charlotte's plate which prompts an eye roll from her best friend. The four of them chat for a while until Charlotte’s mom gives them a sappy speech about how proud she is of them. It obviously brings Paige, the biggest crybaby in the world, to tears. Eliza wraps her in a tight hug to try and make her feel better. Drew is pointing and laughing at his sister which Charlie tries to shut down, but he makes her giggle. 
The green numbers about the stove tell the girls that it is almost 7AM. They head out to Paige’s car. It takes them nearly 5 minutes to wrangle the children in the back seat and decide on what to listen to. The drive to Drew’s school is relatively short. They sing along to music. Paige gives him a famous Bueckers pep talk. Charlotte can’t hold back a smile as she watches Paige do her handshake with her brother. Her mind starts to wander. She thinks about how amazing Paige would be with her kids. She can picture it perfectly.  
Paige sitting in her future son or daughter's room. She’s trying to wrangle the little one to get to bed. She’d end up bargaining with them to let them stay up for the rest of whatever basketball game they’d spent the night watching. She can imagine Paige attempting to braid her daughter's long blonde hair. It wouldn’t be perfect, but Paige would eventually get the hang of it. She envisioned Paige having a nerf gun battle with her son, just like Charlotte had seen her do with Drew a million times. She can picture Paige comforting her child as they cry about something that was likely trivial, but she would never diminish their feelings. She would try and make them laugh as her hand would rub their back. She would wipe away their tears until they were hysterically laughing. When her mind gets lost in the fabricated reality, she almost forgets that those wouldn’t be their kids. They would be Paige’s. She wouldn’t be the one sitting next to Paige on the couch every night as they talked about their days. Someone would replace her in the point guard’s life. Someone who would love Paige in a way that Charlotte never thought she could. He would probably be some tall jock that Paige would meet in Connecticut. They would have some sappy love story that reminded everyone of a fairy tale. Paige was destined for a great love, but Charlotte had no idea what exactly that would look like for both of them. 
Her daze is interrupted when she feels Drew wrap his little arms around her neck, through the headrest, before he climbs out of the car and walks into school. She is reminded of how much time truly has passed. Drew was starting Kindergarten. She could vividly remember the day that he was born. She’d sat in the hospital waiting room next to Paige all night. She’d watched as Paige paced up and down the hall waiting for any news. She’d let Paige lay on her lap when the sun had set, her hands running through Paige’s blonde locks in an attempt to soothe the anxious girl. She saw her goofy immature best friend grow into a mature and somewhat responsible older sister. It was clear that everything changed for Paige the moment she held her infant brother in her arms. Charlie feels a hand wipe a tear from her cheek. She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying. It was Paige’s hand. The girl exchanged a smile. A smile that says everything that they need it to. A smile that is all knowing and all loving. 
Charlotte runs her hands over her face to stop the stream of tears that have begun to flow down her perfectly manicured face. Paige laughs before speaking, “Dude, you are such a crybaby. Pull it together.” Paige isn’t serious, not even in the slightest. She got a goofy smirk plastered on her perfect face. Besides, both girls know that Paige is the crybaby of the two. It didn’t take much to get the Bueckers waterworks going. Charlotte rolls her eyes as she turns her gaze out of the window. Paige turns up the radio and starts singing obnoxiously, prompting laughter from the two sisters in her car. Paige would go to the ends of the earth to hear that sound. 
They drop Eliza off for her first day of middle school. This time there is far less crying. Paige almost lets a tear slip, but her pride is too strong after she’s already teased Charlotte about it. They stop to get coffee before their first class. They sit in a silence that is starting to become more normal for them. Reality is sinking in. They are about to walk into Hopkins High School to start their senior year. A year that will be  full of lasts. Full of tears. Full of hope. Full of heartbreak. 
The girls don’t see each other much that day. Paige spends the day catching up with all of the teammates that she barely saw over the summer. She doesn’t exactly have to pay attention in her classes, so she doesn’t. Charlotte spends the day being bombarded with course descriptions and year long calendars. A lesser person would have crumbled under the intense course load, but Charlotte’s been doing this for years. If Paige was put on this earth to shoot an orange ball through a hoop, then Charlotte was put here to be an academic weapon, as Paige frequently described her. 
They meet at Paige’s car after the final bell rings. Charlotte is carrying 5 textbooks and looks exhausted compared to Paige’s lively demeanor. Seeing Paige immediately puts a smile on her face. Her drained expression is replaced with one that is far more spirited. They climbed into the car and decided to stop for ice cream on the way home, obviously bringing some home for their siblings. 
They sit on a bench outside of the parlor for far longer than they meant to. They always end up losing track of time when they are together. They talk about how their days went, Paige detailing every interaction she had throughout the day. Charlotte doesn’t bother to interrupt her. She just studies every little feature of her face. She takes mental pictures of the small dimples that form when she smiles. She memorizes the way Paige’s blonde hair moves with the slight breeze. She burns her smile into her brain, knowing that there was no way for her to know how many more times she would see it. 
August 10, 2019
Charlotte’s Point of View
We managed to survive the first week of senior year without much difficulty. I mean I already had a long list of assignments that needed to be started over the weekend, but that really wasn’t that big of a deal. I was used to it. I’ve been taking difficult classes almost my whole life, so waking up early on a Saturday morning wasn’t that big of a deal. Paige had spent the night, like she did nearly every friday. Our limbs were a tangled mass when I first opened my eyes. Her head was resting on my chest as her arms were wrapped around my waist. My alarm was loud enough to wake me up, but quiet enough to keep the blonde fast asleep. I pulled myself out of her embrace, almost immediately shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. 
I poured myself a cup of hot coffee and made a bowl of cereal, both of which I took to my room where my desk was perfectly set up. I glanced over to find Paige spread out across my bed, a small smile forming on my lips. I finish all of my notes for AP Government before I hear her wake up. Paige Bueckers is nothing if not dramatic. Her yawns quickly overpower the soft chirps of birds that I’d been listening to for the past hour. She thrashed around under the comforter as groans left her chapped lips. I stop myself from getting more distracted by the blonde. 
I turned back to the brightly lit computer screen, working on a paper that wouldn’t be due for another week. I get lost in trying to find the words that perfectly capture the ideas in my head. It was nearly impossible to focus as I heard the quiet laughter coming from the girl behind me. It was a different laugh. Her normal laugh had a way of filling a silent room. It was the kind of laugh that instantly wiped the frown off of your face. A laugh that you couldn’t help but join in on. This laugh was secretive like she was sharing it with only the person on the other side of the screen. I could hear her fingers rapidly typing. What was so funny that she couldn’t contain her giggles?
“P? Who’s got you laughing like a child?” I hope that I manage to mask my jealousy. I turned my chair to face the bed where she sat with her back pressed against my head board. Her eyes were glued to the screen that rested in her hands. Her face was contorted into a stupid grin. A stupid grin that was usually reserved for when she did something stupid to annoy me. Now it was a reaction that someone else had elicited. She hadn’t even registered the words that left my mouth, just typing away as soft chuckles left her pink lips. “P?” silence “Paige?” silence “Earth to Paige!!”
“Sorry, what did you say?” She is still not looking at me and it’s pissing me off. I know I shouldn’t care this much. Just because she was my best friend doesn't mean that she can’t talk to other people. God why am I acting so psycho. I can’t stop myself. I slide on to the bed, crawling over to her. I grab her phone and quickly create distance between the two of us. She’s reaching out for the device while I scroll through her messages. I can feel the playful smile on my face falling when I read the contact name. “Azzi 🤍”. It was abnormal for her to have a contact name for any of her friends that wasn’t some annoying nickname paired with random ass emojis.
She was pinned in Paige’s phone. They’d been talking almost nonstop. I don’t know why I cared so much. I didn’t exactly care about basketball, their main topic of conversation. I threw the phone back at her before making my way back to my desk, still facing her in the chair. “Char, it’s just Azzi. It’s not a big deal. Why do you look pissed?” She inquires. 
“I’m not.” I say bluntly. Paige knows me too well to fall for that. 
“Sure you’re not,” she teases, making her way behind me. “You are clearly jealous, but we can play pretend if you want.”
“Jealous of what? The fact that the poor girl has to listen to you praise Lebron for hours. She can have you.” I don’t mean a word of what I am saying, but I’d die before admitting the truth. I could listen to that girl talk about anything for hours and never get bored.  
“Bro, you just don’t get it, okay? No one is doing it like that man.” I roll my eyes at her finally turning back to work on the device resting on the white wooden desk. I finally turn my back towards her. It’s impossible to fight with her about her ‘future baby daddy’. 
“No way you already have homework. We’ve only been in school for like 3 days.” She’s towering behind me, looking at my computer screen. She leans over me to steal a bite of my cereal. I glare at her as her hair hangs in my face. She quickly realizes that it’s not homework that I am using my time for.  I know her face lights up when she sees the white ‘Y’ in front of the blue background. Suddenly, she is engrossed in the words on the screen. “Is that-” she pauses knowing that I understand what she’s asking me. I nod, turning to look at her as her eyes still scan the page. I’m searching for some kind of sign that will affirm the work I've put into this essay. She picks up the laptop and sits on the bed as her eyes pour over every word. I watch her reactions carefully. No one else has read it yet. I watch as she grins. 
“Charlotte.” She never uses my full name. “This is so beautiful. Holy fuck you are so smart.” I think she might be more invested than I am. It’s the dream for both of us. New Haven is only an hour away from UCONN and I mean it’s Yale. You don’t turn down Yale. The chances of me actually getting accepted were slim to none, but Paige had hope. “God it’s going to be great going to school in that same state. I don’t know what you would do without me.” 
“Don’t get your hopes up. It's like impossible to actually get in.” My eyes fall to my lap. 
“Don’t even start with me. You are fucking incredible. Yale would be so lucky to have you.”
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I'm not a huge fan of the Tazercraft mental link headcanon (it's just not my cup of tea personally), HOWEVER—
I can't stop thinking about Pac in Alcatraz with his back to the wall as Cell approaches him with a cold smile on his face and a bloody knife in one hand, and Pac completely blocking Mike out because he knows something terrible is about to happen, and if he can't save himself then maybe he can at least spare Mike the graphic gory details.
And even when he’s lying on the cold concrete floor in a pool of his own blood, Pac is still trying to block everything out so he doesn't project his pain to Mike through their mental link. But ultimately, that's what scares Mike the most — the sharp flash of Pac's terror for an instant, and then silence.
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anghraine · 8 months
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I got good news on the academic front yesterday, and although I'm a bit ".......?" about it, it's very cool.
So now I'm thinking about how much fun I had back in 2011 (when I was an undergrad!) writing a fic where a sketchy academic in the distant future hatches a theory that Darth Vader was .............. *drumroll* Anakin Skywalker.
But also, while her monograph is daring and there's some good evidence for it, a lot of this scholar's research is pretty shoddy. The fic is not the original scholar's take but a(n also dubious) critical anonymous review of it.
Then, in 2017 (this would be after I got my MA), I was prompted to write a sequel, I think by @beatrice-otter. I wrote and posted the sequel in which a third scholar, this one actually willing to give her name, has done research in Tatooine for several years and condemns the first scholar's total lack of engagement with Tatooinian sources or knowledge.
I doubt I'll write more of that specific verse, but re-reading is like ... hmm, my career path is not exactly a shocking revelation.
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sassysnowperson · 10 months
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Okay, so if I'm writing Ted Lasso fic and it's modern day - as long as I don't include any actual football matches the stuff I'm going to have to google will be way less than Star Wars. Right? Right????
Three hours later
Okay, so in Kansas in order to file a complaint against a licensed psychologist, you'd be filing with the Kansas Behavioral Sciences Regulatory Board, and they do have a specific RAV form they want you to file by mail with any supporting evidence so we're going to have to factor postage times into this...
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viennakarma · 2 months
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hear me out... ending 3: secrets
she just doesn't tell him, publicise their divorce, she's disappeared off the face of the earth basically, she keeps the baby, it's a boy, looks just like him but they just never see each other again. Lewis is upset, can't cope, just keeps partying, drinking during off season, or just gym gym gym not even socialising as much, fashion declines like no longer going for all the cool different clothes and just comes in trousers and merc top.
But how does he find out? when?
Maybe she's just out living a normal life now but an old fan recognises her, she's with her brother and son, maybe they don't recognise the brother and they think she's got a new man and kid, she always wanted a kid and Lewis was never ready wanting to wait. maybe that photo gets released so lewis finds out that way. loads of rumours on twitter. maybe not directly, someone else could bring it up. Jealous then realises. He tries to contact her, doesnt work, blocked on everything. He remembers where her parents house is and visits them, eventually meets yn and their son. Then co-parenting. But like no friendly friendly just civil. She has the son, Lewis has him on free weeks. She does eventually move up cuz when her son is with lewis, she has free time for dates. Just a regular guy tho and it's all great and eventually lewis also tries moving on but like fr this time. so like eventually yn and her new bf move in together, live a happy faithful life and have another kid. while lewis maybe has just won his 8th (or 9th depending on time line) but it's not what he dreamed of, not having yn to celebrate with. But he's got his now long term gf and he proposes.
so basically to summarise, she is alone, single mom, gets exposed, Lewis finds her, civil co-parenting, yn gets a bf happy life, Lewis eventually gets a gf, happy without each other
This is a little blurb on how I imagine a third ending of Say Something would go:
You leave, right after finding out about the pregnancy, maybe somewhere far from England and Monaco. Lewis doesn’t deserve to reap what you saw after ruining your future. He doesn’t deserve you or your kid or to play happy family. You move away, maybe to a farm Australia, since you’ve always wanted a quiet life anyway. Your parents and brother accept moving in with you to help with the risky pregnancy. It’s tough, you can’t do much to risk your health and the baby’s. Soon you find out it’s a boy, you’re happy something good came out of a dumpster fire that was your relationship with him. Him, because you don’t say his name anymore, trying to leave his memory behind.
You baby boy is delivered in a difficult C-section, one your brother and parents never left your side and you felt less alone, not sharing the moment with the father of your kid. The day is happy and sunny, so you name him Helio, like the sun. Like the light in your life. You realize you’ll never fully leave his memory behind, his son being his spitting image. The same hair, the same complexion, the same nose, the same shiny brown eyes and chubby baby cheeks. And you love him so much it hurts. You realize you may have lost him, but Helio was pretty much his copy.
Following your baby’s firsts is the happiest you’ve ever felt. Saying ‘mama’ for the first time, taking his first steps, playing with animals and saying his first words. You settle in a happy routine as a single mom. After the pregnancy, your parents move back to England because they couldn’t just leave their house. Your brother stay with you and your sister move in too, after finishing college.
You try not to know about him. Last you had heard was during the pregnancy, hearing about endless parties, trips and models, that had taken a toll on you, in a way you decided to stop looking. He had a life and you had a completely different one now.
Helio goes to school, eventually. Despite feeling protective, you know you can’t deprive him of a true kindergarten experience, not only for studies, but also for his formative years and to become socially active. The first year, your sister, who has a volunteering job close to his school, is the one who picks Helio up everyday. He makes friends at school and even invite them for a birthday party at the farm. It’s one of the happiest moments for him, eating cake with friends and showing them his pets.
During his second year, though, your sister get a little sick, so she can’t pick Helio from school. And you decide to go, along with your brother. It’s a hot day, so you stop by a park to eat frozen yogurt and let Helio play a little while.
That day, someone recognised you and recorded you.
That’s how Lewis finds you. The video eventually find its way to him. The post has a silly caption ‘for everyone wondering what had happened to y/n, seems like she found a new man and started a family’. Lewis scoffs because he knows the man in the video is your brother and you are thick as thieves ever since you were kids.
You’re just as pretty as ever. Maybe a little more curvy, and hair longer, but just the same, still the most beautiful woman-
But then he pauses. He zooms in the video and see the toddler running up to you. The little boy, who makes your eyes light up as you hug him, sharing what looks like ice cream or something. And from what Lewis can imagine, the boy looks 4 or 5 years old. But there’s no denying, he looks exactly like Lewis as a baby, if he put a baby picture of him beside the boy in the video, it would be the same. It was a matter of time until some of his fans put two and two together.
That’s how Lewis ends up going to your parents’ house in England. He had gone there after the divorce, but the house was for rent and he couldn’t contact your parents of you, after cutting him off completely. Now, when he knocks, you mum is the one to open.
“Is he mine?” Is all he asks, breathing hard.
Your mom let him in, seeing his state of distress. She doesn’t lie nor sugarcoat it. She tried to convince you to let Lewis know about the kid. Helio, he muses, whispering the name of the little boy he never even met.
He goes to Australia with your mum, not even letting you know first, because your mum believed you’d run away once again.
When he makes it to the farm, you’re out in the field with Helio, you two running and playing together barefoot on the grass. He hears Helio’s laugh, yours too, and something inside him breaks. He’s seeing before his eyes the life he threw away for one stupid mistake.
As soon as you notice him, you stop laughing, holding Helio behind you, protective. You call your brother out, asking him to take Helio upstairs and not leave until you say so. Lewis just watches helplessly as your brother takes his nephew inside and Lewis couldn’t even get a closer look at his son.
“Mom, what did you do?” You say, betrayed. You mum explains everything and you invite both of them inside.
Inside, you fight, almost shouting until you remember Helio upstairs, forcing yourself to calm down. Lewis feels betrayed, you tell to his face he doesn’t deserve this life. You pull a stack of documents, asking Lewis to sign. It’s a contract saying he gives up any rights over the kid. Lewis cries.
Your mother mediates.
After what feels like hours of arguing back and forth, you accept Lewis begging to know his kid, begging to be part of his life. How could you deny your kid of a father now you couldn’t hide him behind a layer of ignorance?
You introduce father and son a couple of days later, in the presence of a child therapist, to help mediate. Helio is skittish in the beginning, but he quickly warms up to Lewis. Sometimes, he run backs to you, hugging you tightly, feeling shy. You reassure him, letting him go back to meeting his father.
“Mama, do all daddies take this long?” Helio asks that night when you’re putting him to sleep. You swallow your tears when answering.
“No, my baby. Not all of them. One day you’ll understand better, yes?”
The first time Lewis takes Helio for the day, you cry for hours, feeling like a mother bird in an empty nest. He had invited his family to a nearby city, only 40 minutes away so he could introduce Helio to them. It’s planned for them to come back by dinner time, to not disturb Helio’s routine. But they come back earlier and your baby looked like he’d been crying. Worried, you carry him inside while Lewis explains that the first few hours Helio was enjoying himself and meeting everyone, but after a while, he started crying because he ‘wanted Mama’. Selfishly, that makes your heart grow easier, because you know Helio would never forget you, and in the end of the day, he’d would always want Mama’s arms.
The first months are like torture, until you get used to Helio coming back at the end of the day. Your Helio, your baby, becomes Helio Hamilton when Lewis registers him. Lewis tries to win you over many times, with gifts, inviting you to dates, until you have a stern talk with him, telling him it wasn’t happening. That every time you were polite and respectful to him, Helio’s well being is the only thing in your mind.
Eventually, the media finds out about Helio. Lewis blatantly lies, saying he had been keeping his son’s existence a secret for his safety and privacy. People mostly respected his wishes.
You see Lewis’ family for the first time again at Helio’s fifth birthday. You thought they’d hate you for hiding their grandkid/nephew, but they treat you with the same kindness as always, and you feel just a tiny bit of guilt for hiding Helio for so long.
You realised that you had much more free time now that Helio was with Lewis half of the time. So you started going to the gym, going shopping, not only for Helio but for yourself, you went to museums, parks and eventually, dates.
One day you meet Leon, a recluse just like you. He’s a writer, living in a cottage in a close city. You hit it off, but you and him get to know each other for a whole year before you introduce him to your family, and Lewis. Your ex-husband doesn’t take it well, admitting that deep down he thought you’d go back and be a family. You tell him, he ruined that himself.
You find some resemblance of balance. With Lewis’ coming to pick Helio whenever he had free time, you weren’t friends just a cold politeness.
Lewis, whenever he had to pick Helio, he found you and Leon sitting by the porch, or horseback riding, or helping Helio with homework and school projects, he would always envy your life, the happy family he could have, but he had only himself to blame. When he finds out by Helio you’re having another baby, he swears a part of him dies forever, buried alongside your love for him, and the future he threw away. Eventually, Lewis married again, a woman who loves him, loves Helio and she even gets along with you well, and that’s all he can ask for, knowing deep down he would never love someone else the way he loved you.
PHEW! I may have gotten carried away. Thank you for your ideia, Anon! I hope this was alright!
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