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endelineinwonderland · 20 hours

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Let The Light In: Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Words: 2K

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn, fluff, suggestive scenes.

A/N: WAR IS OVER!!!! Also, it's finals week and I didn't get off work 'till 11 so this really wasn't supposed to happen but here we are I guess! Gonna have to edit this in the morning cause there's no way in hell I'm going to bed after 6 (apologies, but too many sleep-related sacrifices have already been made tonight.) Also, I might be moving to fast but the angst was getting to me as much as y'all so we can save the heart to heart for later, let them fuck it out first.

To love Paige, you have to truly understand her, and you do, as well as you know the back of your hand. Paige often acts impulsively, leaving you to think things through for her, and the last time you neglected this responsibility, she stopped talking to you for a year. You were never going to make that mistake again, and as a result, everything had meticulously planned everything down to the smallest detail.

As you laid in bed next to her, you had been decided it would be in your best interest, and more importantly in Paige’s best interest, to stay away from her. You had run through a million different scenarios, lived out each and every possible outcome in your mind, and this was the only one that made sense long-term, at least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, the timing had worked out perfectly. Paige always got hyper-focused before game days, so your absence hadn’t been noticed. You just had to get through that morning, pretending to be asleep when she had pressed kisses to your cheeks to ‘wake’ you, feigning enthusiasm as she rummaged through your fridge for the ingredients to make the lemon pancakes she "missed so much," and suppressing your tears when you hugged her goodbye, knowing it would be the last time you’d let yourself have her like this. You waved at her with a forced grin as she drove off, and you hadn’t spoken to her since.

When you had to face her again, you had a plan. You had accounted for her coming up to you during halftime; you’d be pleasant, more professional than normal, but not in any noticeable ways. You would just be laying the groundwork for your plan: to slowly drift away.

Paige would never know you had intentionally left her, and the memory of you would be something she could look back upon fondly, an old almost-love-story from her college days.

You hadn’t, however, planned at all for a massive upset, one that would leave Paige practically storming off the court when the fourth-quarter buzzer finally signaled the end of the disastrous game. And you definitely hadn’t planned to receive a call from Ice right after you’d finally wrapped up your work for the night and just tucked yourself into bed. In all honesty, you hadn’t accounted at all for the effect Paige had on you, and your resistance is only so strong.

“Hey, sorry to bother you so late, but is Paige with you?” Ice's voice crackled through the phone, sounding unusually tense. “No, she’s not with me. Why?” The girl on the other end of the line spoke in frantic, hushed tones to someone in the background before finally responding to you, “She hasn’t returned to the dorms since after the presser, we just got back from dinner and we thought she was here, but she’s left her phone in her room and her car is gone. When we realized this we just assumed she'd gone to you.”

Your heart sank. Paige had a tendency to disappear a bit when she didn’t want people to know how she was feeling, but she’d never physically left, normally just opting to shrink in on herself, her smile becoming a little less bright, and her voice piping up fewer and fewer times until she was completely silent, as she would typically remain for the rest of the night, adamantly denying that anything was wrong.

In a knee-jerk reaction, you check her location, silently thanking God for how out of it you had been the days after Paige’s injury, more specifically, that your mutual distress had made you forget to stop sharing your locations. The thanks quickly turned to quiet curses, however, when you see her location displayed atop an outline of her dorm room on the map and Ice’s voice echoed in your mind, “She’s left her phone.” But, before you could close the app, the location of an AirTag speeding rapidly down highway 95 caught your eye. When the two of you had left her car a few nights ago after ice cream, you’d forgotten one of your camera bags, one that had a tag in it.

In the blink of an eye, any former resolve to stay away from the blonde was completely obliterated. You’d never gotten to your car faster.

You couldn't believe you were doing this. After meticulously planning every detail to ensure a seamless, unnoticed exit from Paige's life, you now find yourself racing down the highway at breakneck speeds, chasing a signal from a damn camera bag. You kept your eyes glued to the road, your heart impossibly pounding faster with each mile you covered.

The AirTag's location pinged consistently, a tiny beacon guiding you to her. Your inability to act even vaguely nonchalant about the girl was becoming distressing; any and all thoughts of self-preservation flew out the window as you passed another exit sign. If she were a lighthouse, you’d intentionally steer yourself to crash onto her shores, if just for the sake of being near her.

As the minutes stretched into an eternity, the familiar landscape of a lookout point came into view. You exhaled a shaky breath, memories flooding back of the night Paige had brought you here, when you had fallen asleep in her car and woken up hours later—still in her car—just to give her so much shit about it, dumping all your feelings into the vehicle until there was no room left for hers.

You try to stop your racing thoughts as you pull up next to the blonde’s familiar black car, this isn't about you, this is about Paige. An eerie cloak of silence smothering you immediately as you shut off your engine.

There she was, sitting on the hood, her figure silhouetted against the dusky sky. She looked so small, so fragile, and for a moment, you hesitated. But the thought of leaving her alone like this, of sticking to your plan despite everything, seemed unbearable, and even worse, it felt familiar.

You climb out of your car and approach her slowly. Paige didn’t look up, but you know she is aware of your presence. You stop a few feet away, the cool night air wrapping around you both as you struggle to decide what to do.

“Paige,” you call softly.

She turns her head slightly, her eyes meet yours, the complete and utter relief evident in her expression almost making you stumble back. “What are you doing here?” she finally says, her voice barely a whisper. “Ice called me. Said you were missing,” you explain, taking a tentative step closer. “I realized my bag is still in your trunk, so I followed the location tag.” She nods, turning her attention back to the scene in front of her as a sob racks her body, seemingly out of nowhere.

You hurry to her side, standing in front of her, tucking yourself between her long legs hanging off the car hood. “Love, don’t cry,” the term of endearment passing through your lips before you could think to stop it. She wraps herself around you, ankles locked around your hips, and upper body slouched completely into yours. “I let everyone down tonight.” Her voice came through muffled, her head tucked into your shoulder.

Acting on instinct, your hands move to run through her hair, playing gently with the ends before moving to run across her back in a desperate attempt to be comforting with something other than your words, which always seemed to fail you.

“I’m sorry for running away, I realized when I got here that I should probably have stayed with someone, that I needed to be with you, but I left my phone at home, and it’s a long drive back.” Paige catches you off guard.

‘I needed to be with you.’

‘She needs to be with you.’

Finally, after probably a million mental repetitions, it finally clicked: she needs you. Just because she didn’t always want you, doesn’t mean she hasn’t always needed you. Maybe even in the same way you desperately need her. You feel incredibly stupid, all along, has it really been that damn simple? Definitely not you decide, but right now the girl you love, 'the girl who loves you', is hurting and that's enough to make you push anything aside. That conversation can happen later, right now you're going to be there for Paige. You're going to prove to yourself that it's okay for you to be with her.

You lean down to press a tentative kiss against the corner of her mouth. “I’m always so proud of you, P, you know that?” Another whimper leaves her throat as you begin to speak. “I’ve watched you win a million games and lose a few too, but when I look at you, I always feel the exact same, so proud of everything you’ve done that after some games I’ve had to go sit alone in my office because it felt like my heart was going to give out if I stayed near you.” Her grip tightens around you, “I really love you.” The pang that normally hits your chest at these words felt duller than normal as you respond, “I love you too.”

“Tonight was bad.” She breaks the silence after a while. “It wasn’t great, no, but I know you, and I know you won’t tolerate it happening again.” You reply, your hand still running in soothing circles across her back. “I just got so stressed I have no idea why, and the whole team took the hit, it’s not fair.” Her voice is tight; she is close to tears again as you pull yourself back to look at her.

“Baby, what’s going on, why were you stressed?” A small shrug and diverted gaze are all you get in response. “You looked tired, have you been sleeping alright?” Her breath stutters, eyes finally meeting yours. “I’ve just accepted that now that I can sleep next to you again, I’m not going to fare so well on my own.” She replies before leaning down to press the softest kiss possible against your parted lips, testing the waters.

Once again, she catches you off guard with the reminder of just how mutual your longing has been this whole time. “We can drive home, you can stay with me.” You reply when your lips finally leave hers, god you'd missed that feeling more than Paige will ever know, and you love letting yourself feel it. She gives you a small shake of her head. “I’m too tired to drive all the way back, I booked a motel room for the night when I realized.”

Being completely unable to resist an opportunity to stay close to her seemed to be the theme of the night you decide as you reply, “Okay, baby then let’s go there. I can take care of you there.”

The motel was a nondescript, low-slung building off the highway, its neon sign flickering in the night as you pulled into the parking lot behind Paige’s car.

Once in the room, you turned on a dim bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over the basic furnishings. Paige sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, waiting to speak until you took a seat beside her, the mattress dipping under your combined weight. Her voice is hesitant, “I know I said I was tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep yet.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you want to do instead, love?” She turns to face you before replying, “I want to not think about that stupid fucking game.”

Your gaze turns to the ancient TV sitting on the dresser beside you. “We could watch something?” You suggest, despite being not entirely convinced the thing was even functional. Her eyes practically roll back into her head, hands moving to cup your cheeks as she mutters, “I want to be distracted, not have a distraction.”

‘Oh.’

Her lips were on yours in an instant. Whatever it is about Paige and kissing you until you couldn’t breathe the second she got you alone in a hotel room would need to be studied further you decide as she moves to push you against the mattress, sinking her body weight onto you. Even if right now this is fueled entirely by her need to forget the night she's had, you’ll take it.

She breaks the kiss. “Is this okay?” ‘She has to be kidding’ you think, some might think the two of you were moving too fast but you know that this has been building up for months if not years. “Paige, this is more than okay.” She grins before tilting your chin up to capture your lips once again.

Her mouth quickly ends up moving down to your neck, planting soft kisses down the base of it before nipping at the skin of your collarbone, most definitely leaving a mark. Your head is spinning; you want her more than anything. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer to you before using her new center of gravity to your advantage, flipping the two of you so you are now resting above her.

Her eyes widen in surprise at your new arrangement, hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her, and her lips parted slightly as she looked up at you, anticipating your next move.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at her, her body spread out beneath you. The sight alone is enough to make your mind race with thoughts that can only be described as downright filthy, and with one particularly vivid image of her chest heaving beneath you, you can't stop yourself. “How many baskets did you get tonight, baby?”

Her face twists into something you didn’t recognize, annoyance perhaps? Distress? “You know I only got four, why’d you feel the need to bring that up right now?” She murmurs, her voice sounding almost ashamed despite how shamelessly her hips were rutting up against yours, begging for more friction.

Unable to resist the urge to feel her you lean down to press a sweet kiss against her pouting lips before pulling back to smile down at her again.

“I bet I can make four feel like a lot.”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies #paige bueckers angst #fanfic #angst #wbb #Paige Bueckers x reader smut #paige bueckers smut

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prentissluvr · 2 days

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cariño — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x gn!bau!reader ➖⟢ genre : hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : car crash, mentions of blood and injuries, concussion, pet names (honey, sweetheart, cariño, baby), swearing, only light editing ➖⟢ wc : 3.6K ➖⟢ listen to : cariño by the marías summary : you get injured while chasing after an unsub, and luke is there to take care of you.

also i think i was subconsciously inspired by one of my fav luke fics concussed at the end lol so check that one out, too!!

adrenaline pumps through your veins the way it always does during a car chase. this one is entirely chaotic as you weave the large black suv through other innocent cars, trying to keep up with the unsub. luke is in the passenger's seat, feeding you updates and directions from garcia as you step on the gas.

“left up ahead!” luke instructs, and your hands grip the wheel tight as you yank it to the side last minute to avoid hitting traffic. the tires squeal, but you make the turn and find yourself on an open road, houses and office buildings quickly fading into trees. you can see the unsub’s car just as it rounds a corner in front of you, and you increase your speed without the danger of hitting a civilian’s car. for a moment, you’re glad because this makes your capture easier, then that exact thought spikes confusion and worry in your mind.

“why the hell’d he turn here?” you question through gritted teeth, “it would be harder for us to get to him if he kept on the busier roads.”

“shit,” luke curses in agreement, “garcia, what’s past the corner we’re about to round?”

there’s a moment of silence as you continue speeding down the road. “nothing!” comes penelope’s voice through luke’s phone.

“nothing?” he repeats to confirm.

“no, nothing, is there supposed to be something?” garcia asks, worry quickly seeping into her tone.

“we need to slow down,” luke dictates as you’re already easing up on the gas and preparing to step on the brakes. but the speed of the car makes almost no difference as you round the corner, eyes peeled and body tensed to react quickly to anything the unsub might throw your way. maybe he’s stopped the car in attempts to surprise you into breaking or swerving dangerously, likely waiting with a gun in hand to try and shoot you down.

what you don’t expect, what none of you could have expected at all, is the new car that comes barelling into the road, hidden by a driveway to the left, right after the curve.

luke shouts your name in warning, and with a glimpse of the dark grey vehicle in the corner of your eye, you slam back on the gas and swerve further left in hopes that the car catch the tail end of the suv and send the it spinning down the road, rather than t-bone you and send you off the side of the road.

you’re not quick enough, just about no one could be. the grey car was ready for you, and it hits the driver’s side with a sickening crunch before running you right off the road. the airbags inflate almost right on impact and the car lurches to a halt when it bends to the will of a tall, thick tree.

it happens beyond fast, all of it a blur of sharp pain and the mixed voices of luke’s exclaimations and penelope’s worried voice calling your names until there’s nothing at all.

—

when luke wakes, he can still hear penelope’s voice. it takes a long, groggy and painful moment for it to come into focus. he groans as he forces his eyes open.

“luke! luke, oh my god! are you there? can you hear me? luke, answer me, please,” her voice is completely panicked, and oddly far away. luke realizes his phone must have fallen to the ground in the crash. then he remembers there’s been a crash.

“garcia?” he croaks out, trying to sit up from where he’s awoken against the door to turn his pained neck, because the most important thing he remembers then is that you were driving.

“luke! thank god. oh my god. there’s an ambulance on the way. luke, are you okay? i can’t hear you well and where’s y/n? are they okay?” garcia is practically begging for good news as she rambles out questions to him.

“i’m fine,” he calls to her, lying, “concussion, probably. i’m checking on y/n right now.” he’s trying to sound calm for her sake, but he’s silently panicking because he hasn’t heard a sound from your side of the car. you probably took the brunt of the hit, too. he’s terrified of what he’ll see when he finally can get a decent look at you.

there’s blood dripping down your face, reflecting the sunlight seeping in through the broken car windows as it seeps past your closed eyelids. you’re knocked out cold, far colder than he was, and your head slumps against the deflated airbag on the steering wheel. you’re facing him, and he thinks that seeing you like this is his worst nightmare. but his head is starting to clear up, probably only momentarily, and though his whole body aches, he can tell that nothing’s broken. with ample effort, he reaches over to you, calling your name softly, then urgently as he presses his fingers to your pulse point. when he feels the weak throb of blood pumping through your veins, he heaves a sigh of relief.

“they’re alive,” he calls to garcia, “still knocked out,” he explains, the strain in his voice evident. “i need to focus on them, okay garcia? have you called emily?”

“i patched her in while you were still out, she’s on the way with jj and spence. do you promise you’re okay?” she’s still talking like she’s barely breathing.

“garcia, i need you to breathe while i try to wake them up, okay?” it’s taking all of luke’s control to stay calm for garcia as he struggles to be closer to you. he checks for breathing, then for any obvious injuries other than your head. then, he’s stroking the side of your face, so gentle as he calls out your name.

“okay, okay, i can do that,” comes garcia’s muffled voice, but luke’s already practically tuned her out. all he’s worried about is you, the way your face looks calm now, even covered in blood, and the way it’ll inevitably twist in pain when you wake. he keeps calling your name, but there’s no response. he’s too afraid to move you for fear of making any unseen injuries worse.

“garcia, how long for the ambulence?” he calls, panic beginning to seep into his voice.

“it’s three minutes out,” she responds, and if he weren’t so preoccupied with you, he’d be able to picture the fear in her face, the severe furrow of her eyebrows, maybe tears on her cheeks as she prays you’ll be okay. but all he sees is the way you’re stuck in your seat, trapped between the front of the car that hit you, its driver long gone by now, and the front dashboard that’s been pushed forward by the strength of the tree and collision.

the way he says your name is like the pleading of a desperate prayer. his shaky hand is still on the side of your face, the pad of his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“c’mon, honey. you gotta wake up.”

with that comes the first sign of life outside of your shallow breaths and weak heartbeat. your brows furrow slightly and a quiet groan escapes the back of your throat.

“hey, hey. that’s it, cariño, c’mon. can you hear me?” he begs. he gets another pained whimper and slight flutter of your eyelids, but your eyes still don’t open. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. you’re alright. wake up, y/n. come on, you got this.”

when your eyes finally flit open, everything’s blurry. you blink once, twice, as you try to focus on the voice that you think might be calling your name. it’s familiar, but sounds far away. then you groan and your face contorts in pain. everything hurts, bad.

“don’t try to move, okay?” those are the first words you catch and can put the meaning together, “you’re alright, the ambulence will be here soon. cariño, can you hear me?”

you try to say yes, but all you can get out is a strangled, “hmm.” luke. you want to say his name as his face comes into focus and you register his gentle hand on your face. the soft brush of his thumb and the gentle sound of his voice are comforting, even as the pain grows with every waking moment.

“that’s good, you’re doing so good,” he reassures. he hates the way your cheek and forehead are shoved uncomfortably against the steering wheel, so as carefully as he can, he maneuvers his other hand to cup your head so you can rest against him instead of the hard, unorgiving surface of the wheel. your face pinches in pain when he does so, but you relax a little once your cheek settles against the soft skin of his palm.

“there you go, that’s a little better, huh? can you see me?”

this time your hum is a little more intelligible as a clear, “mhmm.” you try to keep your eyes and senses focused on luke and his pretty, worried face, but it’s difficult when the pain is so ever present, digging into your ribs and hips and chest and legs and god, your head is pounding, spinning, stabbing, throbbing in pain. luke wants to cry himself when he feels your tears mix with your blood on his hands.

“shhh, you’re gonna be okay. i know it hurts, but the ambulance is almost here, baby,” his words are comforting, and you don’t want him to stop, but it only gets worse.

“luke,” you groan, unable to say much else to express how much pain you’re in and how much you need him to keep saying sweet things and calling you pretty names.

“yeah, i know, i know. ‘m right here, i got you. we’re gonna get you fixed up so soon. just stay with me, okay? ambulance’s almost here.”

“okay,” you agree breathily, but your eyes want to close and try to shut the pain out.

“no, no, stay awake, honey. i need you to stay awake, okay?” he repeats. “you hear that? that’s the ambulance, it’s almost here,” he assures you. sure enough, if you focus, you can hear the sirens as they get closer.

“okay. ‘m awake,” you mumble, pinching your eyebrows together in concentration and squeezing your eyes shut for just a moment before focusing your eyes back on luke’s concerned face.

“that’s good, there you go. don’t worry about anything else, i got you. you stay awake, and i’ll take care of the rest, alright?” his gaze leaves you for just a moment as the ambulance pulls up and the emts run out of the vehicle to help.

“yeah,” you respond, and he can feel your jaw clenching against his palm every time you hold back a little cry of pain. he hates it because it’s often, because even now, you’re acting strong for the sake of someone else.

then there’s a paramedic opening the door to the passengers side, requesting for him to get out and to the ambulance.

“not until you get them out,” luke protests, not even bothering to look away from you, “i’m staying with them.”

“sir, i’m sorry, but we need you to get out so we can reach them. that door isn’t going to open until we can move the other car, and we need to stabilize your friend as soon as possible,” the medic explains. luke holds back a curse and clenches his jaw in anger because he knows he needs to leave you, but would rather do anything but that.

“cariño, i have to get out so the medics can help you, but i’ll be back with you the second i can, okay?” he explains to you gently, already slipping his hands away from your head with all the care in the world.

you whine in protest, and though what he’s saying makes sense, you don’t want him to be away from you for even a moment.

“i know. i’m so sorry, but i’ll be right back, okay honey?” his heart is practically breaking as he pulls away from you and stumbles out of the car with the help of a medic. within seconds, another medic has crawled into the car, speaking comfortingly as she assesses the situation up close. and while you appreciate her gentleness, it’s not nearly as comforting as having luke. it’s a task, but the other medic gets luke to sit down on the side of the road a few feet away before climbing into the car from the back seat to help stabilize your neck and get you sitting upright in your seat.

luke wants to throw something or cry, or maybe both, when he hears your pained sounds coming from the car. more than anything, he wants to be near you to hold your hand, but he knows there’s not enough room for him and the medics to do their jobs.

when there’s nothing left for them to do until they can move you, they allow luke to climb back into the car and hold your hand from the back seat after checking him for severe injuries.

“hey, there. i’m back, sweetheart, just like i promised,” he says as he reaches over the console to curl his fingers around yours.

“mhmm,” you hum in relief, unable to really speak with the brace around your neck.

only moments later, more emergency vehicles arrive, including a black suv that luke knows to contain emily, jj, and spencer.

“we’ll be able to get you out so soon, now. and emily, jj, and spence are here to help, too,” luke tells you, hoping to bring you a bit of good news. in your current state, he doesn’t expect you to answer aloud, but he smiles a bit when you squeeze his hand.

—

at the hospital, hours later, luke sits in your dark room, holding your hand and resting his head against your forearm. it was practically hell to him, being made to rest in a hospital bed himself for an hour or two before they let him sit in your room instead. his concussion is mild, much more so than yours. you’re sleeping soundly, a little frown on your face that luke both wishes would go away and can’t help but find it oddly adorable. matt reported to him that you woke up once before, dazed and confused from your injury before falling back asleep.

the darkness of your room helps him, but his head still pounds dully as he wishes you’d wake up so he can say something to you, so he can hear your voice and maybe feel just a little bit less worried about you.

with his head down, he doesn’t see your eyes drift slowly open, but he feels the twitch of your fingers inside his own hand. immediately, he raises his head to check on you, and his gaze softens infinitely when he sees you’re awake.

“hey,” he whispers, “how are you feeling?”

you take in a raspy breath before speaking, “um… i’m okay, i think. my head hurts,” you pout. “what… what happened?” the nurses had warned that you might suffer from some temporary retrograde amnesia.

“we were in a car crash,” honey, he wants to add.

you inhale sharply, “oh. are you okay?” you sound so worried and sweet that luke wants to soothe you with a kiss to your cheeks, your forehead, anywhere you’d let him. he settles for squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“i’m very okay,” he reassures, happily glossing over the fact that his head hurts, too. “that’s why i’m here, to take care of you, because you have a bad concussion.”

“oh,” you repeat, and from the way you’re talking and the tone of your voice, luke concludes that you’re still clearly affected by the concussion, “is everyone else okay? we’re on a case, right?”

“yeah, we’re on a case,” he has to hold back from the pet names again, “and everyone’s okay, just a little worried about you.”

your brow furrows at that, and he thinks your eyes grow a little shiny from tears. “don’t wan’ anybody to worry about me,” you fuss.

“oh, sweetheart,” it slips out so easy and natural that he can’t hold it back, “we just want to be sure that you’re okay,” he explains, so soft and sweet, “but since you’ll be just fine, we won’t worry too much, okay?”

“okay,” you sigh. the pout stays stuck to your lips, but you don’t protest anymore and he thinks tears are avoidable, now.

“i’m gonna grab a doctor to check on you,” luke tells you as he begins to stand and let his hand slip away from yours. your hand tightens around his and the tears spring right back into your eyes.

“don’t go,” you whine all sweet and simple.

“i promise i’ll be right back, but i need to get a doctor to make sure everything’s alright, okay?”

you shake your head, then squeeze your eyes shut in pain. that action sends a few tears out and rolling down the sides of your face. when your eyes open, a few more drops spill out as your breathing grows a little heavy and panicked.

luke settles right back down at your side and squeezes your hand with renewed urgency, “okay, okay. i got it, i’m here.” he brings his other hand to the side of your face, ever so gentle to avoid hurting you as he wipes at your tears, “i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

he sighs, but his face softens when you relax into his touch. “will you tell me when it’s okay for me to get a doctor? i promise it’ll only take a second, and it’ll help me not to worry about you,” he adds.

this makes your expression turn conflicted. it’s plain to him that you’re mulling over the options carefully in that pretty little head of yours.

after long consideration, you relent, “okay. but you can’t be gone long, please.”

“i won’t, i promise. i’ll be right back, okay?”

“okay,” you agree, but your voice is so sad that luke would rather do anything than leave your side. your fingers chase after his as he gets up, even when your muscles are tired, pained, and weak.

luke flags down a nurse, who gets a doctor to show up within a few minutes. she comes and confirms that your status is the same as before, all you need is rest and to be extra careful goin forward. you sigh in relief when she says that you should be discharged tomorrow or the day after, and you’re cleared to fly soon after that as long as you’re continually resting. your memory from around the time before the crash might remain spotty, but should clear up at least a little with time and proper care.

“luke,” you mumble once the doctor’s gone.

“yeah? can i get you something? water?” he asks, all caring and concerned.

“no. well, water would be nice in a minute, but luke,” you implore, “i jus’ really like you, and i wish that you’d kiss me. i’m pretty sure i’ve wished that for a while. but i definitely wish it now.”

those words nearly knock the breath out of his lungs, but he has to recompose himself quickly to deal with the fact that you’re only saying so because you’re severely concussed.

“i also wish you were my boyfriend,” you continue.

“i really like you, too,” he says, beginning gentle and truthful to ease into the fact that he can’t kiss you right now.

“so you’ll kiss me?” you slur hopefully. he sighs because he knows his answer probably won’t come across well in your current state.

“i will if that’s what you still want when your head clears up a little more, okay?” he concedes. he means it, too. he really would like to kiss you.

“but not now?” you sound so disappointed that luke is having trouble holding back. your eyes are shiny again and he wants to kiss the tears away.

“i’m sorry, but not yet.” the pronounced pout on your lips does not help his case.

“do you not want to?” you ask helplessly, and there’s tears slipping down your face again.

“oh, hey, don’t cry. i do, i promise i do, but i can’t right now,” he explains without making any headway in calming you down. you don’t seem to believe him.

he stands to lean over you and lay both of his hands against your face to wipe the tears gently awake. from the pinch of your brows and tightness of your lips, he thinks you’re probably crying from the pain, too. he shushes you softly as he presses a whisper of a kiss to your forehead when he can’t hold back from doing so anymore.

“it’s okay. don’t cry,” he mumbles into the bandage wrapped around your head. for good measure, he kisses the skin of your forehead again, since the first one seemed to calm you down significantly. it appears that the contact of his lips to your skin, regardless of whether it was on your own lips or not, was enough to sedate and please you, because the tears have stopped and there’s a little smile on your face when he looks.

“can you hug me, too?” you ask sweetly.

“of course i can,” he confirms as he wraps his arms around you, as careful and soft as possible.

he holds you until your hand drops from his shoulder and you say plainly, “i’m tired.” he moves away slightly, brushing his thumb sweetly under your eye before he settles back down on the chair.

“alright. why don’t you go to sleep, then? i’ll be here when you wake up, cariño.”

your smile turns a little dopey at that word. “cariño,” you slur out. “i hope you’ll kiss me then, cariño.” with that, you send his heart into a flutter as your eyes drift closed and your breathing evens out.

he whispers, “i will, cariño, i will.”

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keekity · 29 days

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fashion designer & her freelance programmer gf

#dela ostrow #mia hayes #ts4 maxis premades #ts4 townie makeover #ts4 #ts4 cas #ts4 edit #ts4 portrait #the sims 4 #i have no idea how to dress sims that are supposed to have good fashion sense #i feel like half of my sims look like they're toddlers who just started dressing themselves #anyway! gonna try to finish those maxis makeovers i started...checks calendar...just over a year ago #honestly might end up redoing all of them since i lost all of the old ones anyway (┬┬﹏┬┬)#also listen i really need u guys to ignore me fiddling with my reshade preset constantly ok #somethings still just not right about it but idk what so if it looks completely different in the next post SHUT IT

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dailydegurechaff · 6 months

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Today's Daily Degurechaff is… Huevember 2023 - Day 28

#i dont like chartruese #i dont have any ideas #theres an alternate version to this where i took 30 minutes to painstakingly handwrite in the YS font random gibberish to fill the backgrou #and in the end i thought it looked too busy and took away from the focus. so i had to delete it and threw in something else #huevember #dailydegurechaff #youjo senki #the saga of tanya the evil #tanya von degurechaff #edit; this is another one that fell victim to the colors looking completely different on my phone I might just kill someone

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greenerteacups · 2 months

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What do you think as Hermione's career would be post battle of Hogwarts? To me her being minister for magic really doesn't make sense. She does not have patience or tact to wade through murky waters of politics 😭😭

So hard to say! The Trio are so, so young when we leave them, I find it almost impossible to project their futures farther than a few years out. The job that suited me at 17 would be radically unsuited to me now. That's why of all the Trio, Ron's ending strikes me as the most realistic — he jumps straight into the save-the-world business again, burns out, realizes he's actually Done The Fuck Enough, Thanks, and pivots into a low-stress career where he gets to see his family a lot. Feels accurate! The others are weirder to me because they do seem to just... pick a lane and stay there.

With Hermione, you could spin her a couple ways. You could say that she leans into her bookish side and does research or teaching, which is not my preference for a couple reasons (namely, I don't think Hermione would like academia as a profession; she finds her classwork interesting and enjoys intellectual validation, but she'd be stifled and wasted in a DPhil program, and she'd be infuriated by the administrative politicking of your average higher-ed faculty). You could say that she gets disaffected with politics and ends up as a barrister or a lobbyist of some kind, but if anything that requires more political finesse, because you don't actually have institutional power, you're just handling the people who make decisions and trying to persuade them of your goals. This is not Hermione's preferred method of influence. She's not even particularly good at persuasion, she just happens to be smart enough (and right often enough) that people take her ideas seriously.

Or you could say her brashness fades with the years into a softened flavor of tell-you-like-it-is honesty, which some politicians actually do successfully trade on; as we see in British politics today, you don't have to be all that charming or clever to get ahead, you just need to be really driven and well-connected (which Hermione completely is; she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the first postwar Minister and her bestie, the Literal Messiah, runs the Auror Office.) But I don't know if Hermione especially wants to be Minister, after the war. She's just watched years of horrendous bureaucratic incompetence plunge the country into a violent civil conflict. She's had not one, but two Ministers of Magic try to bully or shame her friends into complicity with fascism. Her view of government is... likely extremely dark.

But Hermione also isn't the kind of person who sees her life as a quest for happiness. Babygirl has a savior complex that makes Harry look selfish. (She basically kills her parents — yeah, obliviating is a form of murder, #changemymind — "for their own good," and justifies every batshit, vindictive, mean-spirited move she ever pulls on the grounds that it "helps" one of her friends.) She is a mean, lean, dragon-slaying machine, and she needs a dragon. After Voldemort, the Ministry is the no. 1 threat to muggle-borns and non-wizarding Beings. As a war heroine with basically infinite political capital, I'd be surprised if she didn't try to do something there. That said, Hermione is so vivacious and dynamic that she could potentially grow in a hundred different directions; it's possible that all of this, while true of her at 18, becomes completely inaccurate by 22. That's why I'm not too fussed about any particular fanon interpretation.