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itaipava · 9 months

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— christmas with f1 boys.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

snow fight: he would take you to make angels in the snow but, when you least expected it, you would be attacked by a snowball and when you looked at him, he would act confused as if nothing had happened, so you take advantage of this moment and play more snow on him, which causes a snow fight. you lose track of time because you’re too busy throwing snow at each other while trying to hide: you laugh so much and have fun like children. after a while, he comes to you: he hugs you and kisses you several times, which makes you laugh even more because his lips are cold. later you go home to watch christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

building a snowman: he would be very excited to build a snowman with you and he wouldn’t even try to hide it because honestly he probably waited all year for it to snow so he could build one with you. he would try to make it look like one of his friends but it wouldn’t work anyway. the snowman is a little jagged and deformed, but you two worked so hard on it, you love it anyway. he would let you add the finishing touches like; the scarf, the nose, and any hat you could find in the dorm that would fit your crazy snowman. his name would be from your shipp and he would take so many pictures to always remember this special and funny moment.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

making cookies together: he promises to help you, but he spends all the time with his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches you do all the work by yourself. but after you complain, he helps you cut the cookie dough in the shape of stars and christmas trees, complaining about how cliché it is but still enjoying spending time with you: this moment is so precious and genuine to him, spending this day with you it’s truly a blessing. and when the cookie is done, he smiles and brags about being an amazing cook

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

ice skating; he would pick you up on a date, not telling you where you were going; so you would be very surprised when he pulls into the parking lot of an outdoor ice skating rink. it would be all decorated for the holiday with christmas lights everywhere and it’s so beautiful you can’t stop smiling and admiring the place around you. you’d probably need to wear those things kids use and hold so they don’t fall on the ice and he’d quickly grab it for you, trying to hide the smile on his face. he just circles around you while you barely move and try not to fall. when you start to get a little more used to it, he grabs your hands and holds you to keep you steady, looking sweetly at you. asking strangers to take a picture of you two for him to send to his family as a keepsake. then he’d buy you hot chocolate later and walk around town with you until it’s time to go home <3

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

going to shop together: walking through the crowded mall hand in hand as christmas music plays softly on the intercoms. after buying some presents for your friends (with you having to help him because he has no idea what to buy) you decide to split up to buy presents for each other; at the end of the day he takes you to dinner in a beautiful and comforting place. he lightly pats your hand on the table as you wait for your food to arrive, enjoying the snow falling outside.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

decorating the christmas tree: he would have all the trinkets and decorations ready when you get there and he would smile a little embarrassed at how excited he is; he would take it so seriously; it would be so cute and precious. he probably has a color scheme for all the embellishments and decorations, so everything matches and that makes you even more enchanted. he helps you to place all the ornaments that are too high on the tree for you to reach; smiling without you noticing because he doesn’t want this moment so unique and pure to end ever. he also loves taking photos of you distracted while you decorate the tree or when you pet roscoe who watches the two of you with curiosity. he also likes to take several photos of the three of you together, to save this precious and genuine moment and to post everywhere — and brag about having a beautiful family.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

making a gingerbread house: he’s the one who came up with the idea and honestly he’s really good at it! he is very focused and silent as he puts the frosting on the walls of the house, but he also gets even more intense and focused as he glues the walls together, whispering something like “no sudden moves, babe.” as if it were the most important thing of all. but of course, he would still have fun with it and mess with you a bit; he probably smears frosting on your cheek or nose and kisses you with the excuse to ‘clean up’ but you two would also discuss how to decorate the outside of the house; he wants to use chewing gum as a doorknob and you want to make one with glace; it takes hours to finish, but once done it looks amazing; it’s a mix of both of your design ideas and you both love it <3

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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Dead Disco / Chapter 8

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Barebacking, oral sex - fem receiving, anal fingering, rimming. Anxiety, crying. Caretaking. Comfort. Relationship issues. Established throuple. Angst. Darling is her/your own tag and warning. The guys get back.

“Two weeks?”

Simon steps closer to where you’re stalking around in the kitchen, working a circular pattern into the floor with your pacing. “It’s not ideal-“

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” your voice squeaks with disbelief, misery, heart squeezing in your chest uncomfortably. “You just got home.” The idea of facing two more long, cold weeks in the dead of winter makes your bones rattle inside your body, worsened by the fact that you’ll most likely be alone for the holidays.

“Ah know, we know, love. But we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” The words strike true, and instantly deflate you. You do know.

You know too well.

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” Simon vows, but you shake it off. It sounds, it feels, like too much of a promise. Too much like the bitter pill of disappointment.

You shove it down as far as you can. Try to patch over the rip in your soul that’s turned into a pit, devolved into a galaxy ending black hole in your heart.

“It’s fine.”

“Darling.” He reaches for you, fingers moving into your line of sight, but you duck it, opting to turn back towards the cabinets, picking up the clean glassware that you were in the middle of putting away.

“I’m fine.” Your tears lie in wait, stinging up your nose, forcing you to swallow against a shallow breath.

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” He tries, and Johnny sidles up next to you, watching with concern. You ignore them both, counting your breaths, arranging the glassware one by one, opting to focus on the task instead of the storm that’s brewing in your head.

“I know. It’s fine.” You huff, last glass going up inside the cabinet with a rattle. Your hands are shaking, everything overwhelmed by trying to keep yourself together.

“Darling.” Simon says again, and you brush him off, pulling the silverware caddy from the machine. The utensils jangle together, loudly, and Simon tries to get your attention again.

You pull the drawer with a jerk, hard and fast. Smooth.

Too smooth.

It jumps the track and flies towards the ground, silverware and odds and ends falling to the floor, both you and Johnny lunging to catch it without success.

It crashes across the kitchen, like thunder cracking across a night sky, a firework in the dark.

Johnny flinches, jolting from where he crouches with a hand outstretched for the runaway drawer. Simon doesn’t startle as bad, but he squints, before relaxing.

And then you burst into tears.

“Fuck!” you blubber. “Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You turn with blurred vision into a thick wall of mass, Simon, who’s arms go around you immediately, strong hand on the nape of your neck.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” He’s soft with his words, lips pressing to the top of your head. He holds you there, murmuring in your ear, coaxing your breaths slower, promising that everything’s okay. “Bedroom lights.” He instructs Johnny, still holding you tight.

“Rog.” Johnny replies automatically, and you shake your head in teary denial.

“The mess.” He rebukes your protest.

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

You hear the helicopter before you see it.

The blades whirl, cutting through the air effectively, and you try not to bounce on your tiptoes as the figures in the far distance disembark from the giant machine.

You can’t help it. You’re really excited.

There’s been something about being here waiting for them, being one of the first faces they see after they land, that absolutely delights you. It sings in your heart, making you smile and sigh, drawing you to the hangar to wait for them to come through the big, wide opening.

Johnny is first. He’s walking beside Simon, but actively looking, searching the faces that are milling about, some who are more stationary, like you, obviously waiting for something.

When he finds you, his mouth moves, body jostling into Simon’s side, and then he’s running. Sprinting.

He’s on you before you can blink, scooping you up, arms like steel curling around your thighs and hoisting you in the air hard enough that your hands come crashing down on his shoulders and his face is buried in your cleavage.

“Put me down!” You shriek with a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fake outrage.

He drops you a bit, but he doesn’t let go. Just keeps his grip around your waist, pulling your body into his, chasing your mouth with his own.

“Missed ye, darling.”

“It was only three days.” You chide, but your heart glows.

“Three days too long. Wonder if the boss‘ll let me retire. Take care o’ ye instead of doing this.”

“Oh, stop.” The protest is halfhearted, the smile that graces your face too much of a giveaway.

You half push him off playfully, still holding onto his jacket, and peek around, looking for the other piece of the puzzle.

He’s standing there, watching. The grey skull that’s pulled over his face sobers your glee, and you move to step forward, but Johnny holds you tight, mouth above your ear.

“Wait, darling. We’ll all go back tae the room, aye?” Simon nods, like he knows what Johnny is saying, even though you’re sure he cannot hear him.

“Okay.” You stay tucked up under his arm, Simon walking in lock step behind you both.

“This was suppose’ tae be a nice dinner.” Johnny grunts, and you gurgle a response around his cock, length stuffed deep in your throat. The edge of the table pinches against your skin, reminding you of exactly where you are, laid across the dinner table on your belly, bent at the waist with Johnny in front of you, Simon on his knees behind you, thumb spreading you wide for his tongue.

“It was.” Simon assures him. His breath heats the skin of your backs of your thighs, a wet finger swirling around the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. There are mashed potatoes on the floor next to his knees, splattered on the hard wood near the spot where the gravy is slowly trickling over the edge of the table. You feel… a little bad about it. A little guilty. Johnny worked hard on this dinner, and you truly did appreciate it, you just didn’t anticipate being the dessert.

“Until someone called me a liar.”

You try to protest, but your mouth is too full.

That’s not what you meant. You weren’t calling him a liar. You just… don’t know how to process this. How to believe.

“We,” Simon presses a kiss to the swell of your ass, “want to keep you, darling.” Another drag of his lips, this time on the crease of your hip. “We want to take care of you.” Teeth graze along your inner thigh, tongue slicking along your skin. “We want to know you.” Fear cuts through the lovestruck, lustful haze that’s penetrated your mind, and you curl your fingers into your palms until the pressure sears with a bite. You focus on that feeling, and not the wariness that’s spreading through your body, the overthinking, the worry that grows from that one sentence: we want to know you.

A part of you wants to float away, wants to drown in the feeling of them, disappear into the toe-curling pleasure, dip beneath the surface and never come back.

But something winds you too tightly to let go. Something lurks in the back of your mind, whispering half-truths, half lies.

It’s not real. They don’t want you. They don’t mean it.

“Why don’t you believe us?” He knows you can’t answer, he must. You groan around Johnny’s cock, hot length pressed against the back of your tongue, and he blows a breath from his nose.

Simon pushes a thick finger against your rim, feeling how you flutter for him, before going deeper, up past his knuckle, and you choke on a gasp, throat constricting around Johnny’s cock. It’s good, sinfully delicious, and you relax to allow him more, a second finger joining the first, stretching you with a sting.

“Johnny.” Simon says his name like a command, and then Johnny’s pulling away, sinking to his knees in front of your face and cradling your jaw with a gentle hand.

“Tell Johnny how it feels.” Simon coaches, and replaces his fingers with his mouth, tongue dipping inside of you with unrivaled skill. You melt into a heap of buttery sweetness, bones nearly liquid, legs trembling.

“Oh, is it good? Tell me darling, use your words.” It’s a little bit mocking, a little bit sincere, with a heaping amount of adoration and lust, and he rubs a thumb across your cheekbone, soft eyes watching yours.

“Ye-eah.” You stretch the vowels, tongue leaden between your teeth. Simon is feasting on you, like he didn’t just eat an entire dinner, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, big hand spreading one of your cheeks wide so that his entire face is buried in you. “Fuck.”

“Can ye come like this?” You garble out the word yes, then no, then there’s nothing, just your slack jaw, Johnny disappearing from your line of sight.

His mouth is on your cunt a second later. You pant, twisting to try to look, catching a glimpse of him under the table, opposite Simon, bent at an odd angle, tongue lapping at your clit, and his hand inside Simon’s jeans working his cock in long strokes.

It’s circuit overload. Every connection surges to full power, lighting up your muscles, your bones, every hair on your body. You practically vibrate with it, and your knees wobble.

“I- I… can’t!” you cry, a thumb pressing down on your clit, applying pressure in a circular motion, stroking the swollen bud in rhythm with the tongue that dips into your hole.

“Yes, you can.” Simon pulls away, kneading your cheeks with thick fingers. “You can, darling.”

“I can’t-t stand. My-“ You don’t get to finish before you’re being pulled from the dinner table and heaved into someone’s arms, jostling against a chest before your back hits the bed.

Your knees are pushed back, up towards your ears, and heat crawls through your belly when you glance up at where they both stare at your fully exposed cunt.

“Better?” The Scottish accent rasps, and you nod desperately. “Words, love.”

“Yes! Yes, please.” You’re asking for them both, desperate for them both. You’re frantic with it, your need, your desire to be ruined by them. Possessed by them. Loved by them.

You don’t know how to say it, can’t get the words out. They get stuck, hung up on your anxiety, your fear.

“Darling.” Simon reads it, reads you like he always does, pulling you back towards them, grounding you.

Your lungs shudder with a deep breath.

“Please.”

Johnny hits the overhead light off in the room as soon as the three of you get inside.

He sits you on the bed, gently. Kissing your forehead, your temple, before pulling away and flicking the bedside light on, casting warm yellow tones around the concrete blocks.

Simon keeps his back turned, things on his body shifting, being shed, being moved, until the grey skull is being placed on the little table, and the balaclava is being shucked to reveal a scruff of hair and his wide neck.

“Simon?” You whisper, but he still doesn’t turn to you. Johnny strips his gear off as well, but watches, eyes keen. Observant. “Simon…” His shoulders loosen, tension deflating from his muscles but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t move towards you until; “I need you.”

It’s fluid, the steps, the bend, the grace of such a large body sinking to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your hips and then his face, smashing into your belly.

“Missed you too.” He murmurs into your skin, and you stroke your fingers through his hair delicately, careful to be slow and deliberate with your movements. You know, Simon is different for work. The grey skull. The ghost.

It can be hard on him. Hard on Johnny. Difficult for them both. For you.

The bed dips, and Johnny’s sitting at your side, leaning you into his chest. A bridge, between two. A web, connecting three.

Yours. Your family.

Hope blooms across your heart, gardens of flowers thriving under the sun of their affection, their care, their love.

Your nose, your eyes begin to burn with the promise of tears. Fuck.

You blink them away, sniffling. The sound causes Simon to jerk, leaning back to peer at you, but your hide your face, and he hums, stroking the back of your neck.

“We’re here, darling.” You nod into him silently, basking in the overload of it all. The sweet. The bitter. The two, together.

“Ah love ye both. So much.” Johnny hums, and it makes the burn worse, the emotions rising inside of you like a tidal flood, waiting to burst through the dam.

“I love you too.” You choke, and Simon grumbles something in response, something that sounds like the three words, before he’s up on his feet, notching his mouth against yours fiercely. He clutches the back of your skull, touching his forehead to yours before moving to Johnny, kissing him sweetly and then pulling away.

“Gotta shower.” He grunts, and you flop onto your back without preamble.

Johnny sighs, curling up next to you, tugging your body into his.

“We’re gon’ to a pub tonight, Kyle, and Price. The three of us tae, ‘course.”

“M-me?” you stutter, eyebrows raised, and he smiles.

“Yes, darling. Ye too.”

The pub is extremely dark. It’s dark enough that Simon seems to be comfortable in just the black mask and hoodie, and Johnny is relaxed, nonchalant with a shoulder leaning against you, head occasionally dipping to whisper something in your ear.

You however, are not relaxed.

Your body is tight, muscles practically iron against the straight-backed chair, mouth dry. You’re out of place, out of your depth. You feel like an ornament of some sort, an adornment. It’s selfish, but you wish you still in the room with the guys, just the three of you. Together, still in that sweet, hazy in-between, floating on admissions of love and adoration.

Conversation flows around you like water, ebbing and flowing as you sip your drink, and Simon’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb stroking a semi-circle into your skin, nodding to something Kyle is saying.

“- and I just don’t want one, but she does. So, I guess we’re getting a dog.” He sighs into his beer, and Johnny snorts.

“Better than a bairn, ah suppose.” He quips. Simon tenses on your other side and then shakes his shoulders out, turning to look at Johnny before leaning in and pressing clothed covered lips to your forehead.

“Alright?” You hum, nodding your response. You’re a little anxious, sure. But otherwise, fine, besides probably needing to use the restroom. You don’t want to take away from this time they have with their friends, their coworkers.

They carry on, talking about something that sounds like work, going back and forth about some finer detail that you can't distinguish, and you drain the rest of the drink, hopping down from the bar seat to go to the bathroom.

Johnny pulls you into him, mouth bumping along your temple to whisper in your ear. “Dinnae take too long, or Ah’ll come lookin’ for ye.”

“Hey, do we still want to do-“ your sentence dies in your throat when you turn corner into the bedroom, where Simon’s got Johnny beneath him on a pillow, an ankle thrown on his shoulder, the lines of both of their bodies, flex of their muscles making your mouth water. “mussels for dinner.” They both turn to look at you, blissed out euphoria on Johnny’s face, while Simon gives you the teeniest smirk, before reaching for you with beckoning fingers.

“How was work?”

“Simon… fucking hell.” Johnny blurts, brow furrowed. Simon hasn’t stopped his ministrations, still slowly dragging his cock in and out of his hole, a teasing pace that has Johnny panting.

A tendril of worry snakes through you. They rarely start without you, why did they start without you? Are you interrupting? Is this-

“Darling.” Simon breaks through your distracted thoughts, hand still outstretched, waiting for yours. When you look up into his eyes, he nods to encourage you, and pulls you closer, thumb stroking over your knuckles, hips still sawing back and forth. You bend a knee onto the bed, pressing your fully clothed body into Simon’s side, the heat of his naked skin warming you through your shirt, and Johnny’s mouth snaps shut, eyes falling dreamily on yours, sly smile scrawling across his face.

“It was good.” You finally answer, never looking away from Johnny, glancing from where Simon’s cock is sliding inside him, to where his gaze is glassy with pleasure. Your own body responds in kind, the view of your partners loving each other making your knees feel kind of weak.

“Someone,” Simon thrusts a little sharper, a little harder, a soft moan sounding from Johnny in response. “wanted to wait for you to get home, but couldn’t.” He speaks perfectly clear, the vocal control something you’ve always been envious of, the fact that he can carry on a conversation while he’s fucking you or Johnny deep something you’ve never understood.

Two sides of your brain war against one another, unsettled fear and insecurity pushing to the forefront even though your body begs you to just get undressed already. You feel out of sorts, and it gnaws away inside your heart, a shadow of yourself slipping away while you watch the way Simon’s hand grips onto Johnny’s thigh.

You shove it down. You’re being ridiculous. You’re reading too much into things, like always. You’ve had this conversation dozens of times. Sex is not exclusive to the three of you at once. Why are you getting so out of sorts?

Simon’s mouth finds your cheek. “Where are you, darling?” He’s stopped moving, fingers stroking along the nape of your neck, the pressure soothing your raw edges, and Johnny props himself up on his elbows, face creased with mild concern.

“I- I’m here.” You try to assure them both, desperate to keep the mood intact, but it comes out a little squeaky, a little off pitch.

Everything grinds to a halt immediately. Simon pulls out slowly, and Johnny reaches for you without a word. You go without complaint, falling into his arms with closed eyes, trying to beat back the nonsense that’s brewing in your mind.

Guilt roars inside your head. You ruined it. Ruined their fun. Ruined the moment.

“I’m fine.” You protest, cuddling in close, nosing along his skin, sticky summer sweat dotting his skin like dew. “Swear.” Simon arranges you so that you’re laying flush with Johnny on your side, and then the comforter is being brought overtop the three of your bodies, soft cocoon of down feathers being tucked around your shoulders.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

They’re not at the bar when you come out.

You catch sight of Simon's out front through the only window in the entire pub, his boss, Price, holding a cigar between his lips, nodding his head thoughtfully at whatever is being said. Your jacket is gone, along with your little purse, tucked underneath Johnny’s arm, half of him visible through the same window. He’s closer to the parking lot, laughing at something with Kyle, face full and happy, so handsome it winds you, tugs a little smile onto your lips.

You’re still smiling when you slip out the front door, making your way towards the side of the pub where the four of them are loitering, no doubt waiting for you to be finished.

When you hear Simon’s voice, you stop dead in your tracks.

“It’s just hard on her, takes a toll.” Simon is talking to Price, who’s got his arms crossed and head cocked, listening intently. “And it’s hard on us too, bein’ away from her for too long. It starts to chafe us. We miss her, and she misses us, and sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing.” Your stomach drops out.

The right thing? The air suddenly feels like ice against your skin, and you hold your breath. Your relationship? He worries if it’s the right thing?

“You’ve made it this long, it’s clear three of you love one another.” Price counters, and you can hear the depressurization of Simon’s lungs, long sigh whistling free.

“She suffers for it, for us. It doesn’t feel fair.” Your eyes go as round as globes, mouth pooling with saliva from the nausea that swamps your stomach.

You should go back inside. You shouldn’t be listening to this, eavesdropping.

You shouldn’t be doing any of this.

You shouldn’t be here.

You turn away, heel crunching against the little rocks that are scattered across the asphalt, and you swear it’s louder than a gunshot.

Simon tenses, shoulders flexing as he turns, eyes wild when they land on you.

“Darling-“ He takes a step forward, and for the first time in so long, you feel like you can’t trust him. As if doesn’t truly see you, like he always has before.

Fair? Fair? Nothing about this was ever fair.

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to run.

“Darling, listen.” He’s closer now, voice sharp, insistent with command, and you glance past him to where Johnny is practically jogging to your side, confusion rippling across his face.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, not sure if he hears it. Not caring if he does.

You can feel a gaping hole ripping wide in your chest, in your heart. It’s tearing apart all the repairs you’ve made, destroying the effort and love that’s been painstakingly built up, and the hope that’s been fostered inside of you slowly starts to die when you look up at the two of them.

Simon’s eyes are hard with something you cannot name, Johnny’s expression rife with concern, with worry.

“Take me home.”

#peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader x ghost #john soap mactavish x you #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap #ghoap x reader #cod mwii

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givethemsmut · 5 months

Text

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Smut

Friends to Lovers

Flash backs coming up!

I don’t own WWE characters, it’s all for fun

Not edited (once I upload everything from my phone I’ll do a read through 🙌🏻)

Chapter Four | Where it all started…

I didn’t question how Dom got from the airport to the house we grew up in when I ordered my own Uber. In the car I texted Angie, his mom, letting her know he knew. I also told her about Raw and the disaster it was.

Dom knew and was making everyone pay for it.

Me: I’m gonna stop by for some clothes but then I’ll grab a hotel room.

Angie: No, you aren’t. You’re coming home for the holidays. Dom can be pissed, we did what we had to. He’s only upset because he’s in love with you.

Me: It’s just like Rey said, you don’t find forever at Seventeen.

Angie: And what if you did?

I didn’t respond to her last text when I focused on the sun peeking out. Pulling into the driveway I contemplated how I felt for Dom. He was easily the best person I knew but I couldn’t get past not being good enough for him. He deserved so much better than me.

He didn’t even know why his family took me in. Only his parents knew and they promised to keep it secret.

Ringing the bell, Angie pulled me into her arms and squeezed me like she missed me. Hugging her back I let myself feel loved the way they tried for years.

“Go get some sleep. It’s early. Your room is untouched.”

Taking her advice I crawled into my old bed in nothing more than panties begging Dom would pity me enough to simply ignore me if he picked up round two in my room.

Once I woke up I dragged myself to my feet, padding my way to the shared bathroom from our youth. Still yawning and stretching I didn’t realize the shower was on until I heard Dom moan.

It was an unmistakable sound that had lived rent free in my head long after our first time. It was the perfect amount of breathy and demanding that instantly had me wet. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

I stopped in my tracks when I realized he wasn’t alone. His iPhone was propped up on the shower shelf and the way he was breathing I could tell his hand was touching himself. My breath hitched in my throat when I slowly backed out of the bathroom.

Standing in the doorway I listened to Dom keep moaning while his hand choked himself. “Show me how wet you are,” he barely said above a whisper and I felt my knees weakened. I wanted nothing more than to open the shower door and slip inside with him but he needed to hate me to move on. We couldn’t keep falling into bed and get over each other too.

Tempted I touched my own panties, savagely teased by the outline of his toned muscles.

I rummaged through my clothes for a hoodie and some sweats. I needed space, I needed my world to stop revolving around him for a few seconds. So I did what anyone else would do, actually go home. My real home.

I lived on the same street as Dominik, only my father was ruthless and my mother was submissive unlike his parents. Maybe enough time passed where we could make up, start over, forgive each other.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

At first it was going well until I voiced my endless debt for Dom’s family taking me in. That led to another fight and that fight ended the same way with my father’s fist colliding with my face.

It wasn’t exactly like the first time.

Rey knew we were friends and saw my bruises. He asked Dominik to have me over for dinner and when they could get me alone they asked me for the truth. No questions later I was living with him and sharing a bathroom with Dom.

Nursing my bloody nose and already swelling eye I waited until it was late enough to sneak in without being seen by anyone. Especially Dominik.

Collecting my things in my duffle bag, whatever I left behind thinking this was home and left what used to be my room barren I tiptoed into the bathroom to clean out my medicine cabinet. Swallowing some Advil with my handful of faucet water I choked them back.

The door creaked open and Dom leaned against the door frame in the dark. There was no way he could see me, not in the pitch black.

Keeping my head down I ignored him, filling my makeup bag with anything I didn’t want to leave behind.

“It doesn’t feel good hurting you.”

“It’s fine, Dom. I deserve it.”

Sighing, he stepped closer, running his hands through his hair. “I have been in love with you since I met you. When you asked me to take your virginity, all I wanted was for you to give me a chance.”

“Your dad said it best: no one finds forever at that age. I was living with your family, I owe them everything for taking me in. I had no one else, Dom. You have no idea what it was like at home. I couldn’t betray them by loving their son. I couldn’t be the person you fell for just to disappoint everyone when I didn’t live up to the demand.”

Coming even closer, I could tell he was trying not to reach out and touch me. “My family loves you. You are family.”

“Exactly. I couldn’t lose them,” I clapped back when I turned around without thinking.

Dom’s hands cupped my face, holding me in his hands and demanding to know what happened. “Who did this? What the fuck happened?”

He wasn’t going to let it go or be okay with a lie. “I thought I could finally go home. Guess daddy dearest wasn’t ready to forgive me.”

Dominik stormed out of the bathroom, chasing after him. I grabbed my hoodie and ran after him begging him to stop. His fists were clenched and when he slammed on his parent’s door I wanted to disappear. “You fucking knew and didn’t tell me? That’s why you took her in? Because her dad was beating her?” Rey was in his boxer briefs half asleep with the door cracked enough to hear his son’s rant. “Why didn’t you fucking do something? You’re a fucking fighter.”

“Dom. Dominik. Go cool off, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Pushing the door open on his dad it felt like the live event all over again. “Just like her getting pregnant? You kept vital information from me.”

“Son. Don’t do this. She’s been through enough.”

“And I was kept in the dark. I told you not to fuck with my family. She’s my family, not anyone else, her. Why is he still breathing? Why isn’t he in jail?”

Rey dropped his head trying to stay silent. “She asked me not to. That’s why. She had been abused her whole life and didn’t want to be the girl who survived, she wanted to live.”

“How the fuck could we live on the same street as him. You just took her in, no questions asked and expected me not to love her? You knew how much I fell for her. You fucking walked in on losing our virginities. How the fuck could you not tell me she got pregnant.” Pushing his dad with so much force I gasped before stepping closer.

Interrupting, I touched Dom’s chest pleading. “Dom please. Please, come to bed. I’ll explain. Just leave your parents out of it.”

His head jerked in my direction, seething with anger. “Come to bed? And what, pretend it’s okay for one night? Every time I fuck your it ruins me.” Squinting down at me he forced my face in his dad’s direction. “She tried to go home because she thought she had to choose between family and me. You guys let her go home to get beat. You could have stopped him a long time ago.”

“Dominik, what did you want us to do?”

“What I’m gonna do.” Dominik already had skinny jeans and a graphic tee on when he jogged down the stairs and made his way to my childhood home.

Running after him in a long hoodie and panties I pulled on him so hard he had no choice but to stop. “Don’t do this. Getting arrested isn’t worth it. Losing your career isn’t worth it. I don’t regret him hitting me. It brought me here. I’m begging you, Dom.”

Towering over me his lips moved dangerously close to mine. “You know what I want. Are you agreeing?”

Shaking my head yes I let the tears fall. “Just come to bed.” Walking by his parents I apologized, keeping my face down and repenting for the trouble.

“Mija, don’t be sorry. You’re family.” Rey squeezed my arm.

Pushing Dom into my room, closing the door and locking it I pulled the hoodie off. Dom’s body barely moved, hovering next to mine. “We don’t have to do this right now. You got me back inside.”

“There’s rules…” I slipped out of my panties before standing up straight against the door completely naked.

Looking down at my naked body his tongue swiped his lips. His hands grasped my hips, “okay. Rules. Tell me the rules.”

Dragging his hands up my body to my breasts I gasped. “Dom.”

“Baby the rules. Need the rules,” his chest was pounding and his voice was breathy.

His fingers pinched my nipples playfully, “You have to call and text everyday.” I bit down a moan trying to stay strong, “No other girls. And we have to take it slow.”

“I want to come inside you… What do the rules say about that?” his voice trailed off when I pulled the shirt over his head and he kissed my mouth so gently it felt unreal.

Slipping his tongue inside my mouth I undid his jeans and prayed for him to take them off quickly before I changed my mind. I was nervous when our hands laced together, both naked in the middle of my room, butterflies filling my stomach the same way when he first fucked me.

“Dom, wait, wait.” my body was being pulled into his hips trying to clash while his mouth kissed my neck. I was so wet that I wasn’t even sure it would feel good when I made my last confession. “No one’s been inside me since you. All the guys and dates, it was just so you could hate me.”

“It was only me? This is my pussy? Say it, Mami.”

Shaking my head yes Dominik lifted me up into his arms, walking over to the bed and ending up on top of me. “No one but you.”

“Fuck baby. I’m so fucking hard right now.” The second his palms held my thighs up I felt him slip inside me. Every inch rubbed up against every nerve, forcing my hips to grind against him and my whimpers to be uncontrollable.

“Dom,” I whimpered when he went too deep, hitting parts of me that screamed.

Lowering down over me, pinning my legs at his hips, and covering my neck in lazy kisses. “Relax, mi amor, I know how to make you feel good.”

Dominik wasn’t lying. Every slip up we had ended in earth shattering orgasms and the lingering desire for more. When he touches me everything writers for him even more.

“I’m scared of messing it up,” I whispered into his chest as his thrusts picked up speed.

His hands smoothed down my face and body weight sat on his elbows. “You can’t mess it up when we haven’t even tried.” Moaning into my mouth our tongues swiped at each other. “Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

“Dominik, Dom. I’m close,” I whimpered into his mouth when his out of breath chest heaved against mine.

“Don’t come yet baby. Me vuelves loca, mi amore.” The way he spoke Spanish made my pussy only get tighter as he thrusted his way inside me over and over. Every inch of him was covered in my arousal by the time I felt my body tensed. “I’m gonna come, Mami.”

He didn’t have to tell me, I could feel the way he pulsed and jerked inside me. Our bodies drove each other crazy and the way we came shook through us.

Dom was off for two weeks for the holidays which was unheard of. Ever since he skyrocketed to the main roster of WWE Dom was never home.

Waking up cuddled up into Dom’s arm was surreal. It felt like a dream but it had been true. Turning into me his lips found mine before he even opened his eyes. “Do you regret it yet?”

His body was pressed again mine, every inch of him stiffening up. “Do you hear that?” Pausing we both listened when it became clear as day. It was his mom and dad having sex. We broke out into a fit of laughter trying to unheard our own payback.

“Let’s show them how it’s done, baby.” Helping me into his lap I straddled him as he sat up against the headboard. “Come here,” he whispered before our tongues wrestled in between our mouths.

Pushing my hips up I felt Dom’s knuckles graze my puffy pussy as he guided himself inside me. I held my breath with every inch I sat down on until I exhaled a quiet moan. “That’s it baby girl. Goddamn, that feels good.”

Slowly rocking my hips and crushing my clit against his body I started to shake all over. My legs vibrated and my heart was racing as Dominik’s hands cupped my ass, picking up my pace.

“I want as much of you as I can before I have to leave for Raw.”

His confession felt like a brick dropping through my stomach. He was leaving and I wouldn’t be with him. Even if we got pregnant in some dangerous game of fixing the problems we had I would be pregnant and alone all over again.

His mouth found my neck, my chest, and sucked my hard nipples into his mouth. His tongue bullied my nippled in his mouth and I gasped trying not to come right then and there.

“Do you know how many times I touched myself to this? How many times have I came all over toys just imagining riding you?” I couldn’t believe it was happening. “Dom. I’m close.”

His hips started to push back and his hands only grabbed onto my hips tighter. “Fuck, mi amore. I’m gonna come inside you.”

Leaning into him, my nipples scrapping his chest and my mouth colliding with his neck I whispered, “I want you to, please, come inside me.”

His face turned into mine as my hips bucked into his lap and all of his inside of me felt hard enough to get hurt on. “Oh my god. It’s so hard,” I purred into him.

“Mi amore, me estoy corriendo,” his breathy voice only made me wetter as his grip held me in place from rolling my hips anymore. Trying to grind myself over our matching orgasms his grip got tighter. “Don’t move baby, don’t move.” He groaned out against my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist and moaning out loud.

“Dom. Dominik.” Trying to catch my breath I shook on top of Dom when he relaxed back into the headboard.

Pushing me down next to him he got between my wet legs, both of our orgasms coating my pussy. “I wanna taste you, hermosa. I wanna know what you taste like after I make you come.”

Dom’s tongue licked my pussy and I writhed against the bed. I gasped and moaned without realizing I might have been too loud. “Dom, oh my god, Dom I can’t.”

The way Dominik licked every sensitive part of me without trying had my body shaking. I felt like I couldn’t breath and my legs were going to fall off. “Can’t what baby? Come in my mouth for me?”

My back arched and my head tossing back as his tongue slipped inside me. My entire body was shaking when my knees automatically closed around his head as it rolled up me.

Landing next to me he pulled me into him as I barely recovered. “I love the way you taste. I love everything about you. I actually have a confession too…” I clamped my eyes closed only for a second hoping it wasn’t Rhea related. “I knew you wouldn’t let it happen again so I set up cameras in our condo that night. I have the video of us fucking. That’s what gets me through being without you, on the road, everything.”

“Dom!” I playfully hit his shoulder. “I want to see!”

“I had someone edit for me so it’s not so bad when the cameras switch between each other. Reaching for the night stand he realized his phone was still in his room when he poured out of bed. Pushing his pants on he went through the shared bathroom before coming back.

Handing me his phone I started getting nervous. “I’m gonna shower, hermosa. You watch.” Rolling onto my stomach and pushing into my elbows I placed the phone against a pillow and pressed play.

#wwe #dom mysterio x reader #dom mysterio fanfic #dom mysterio #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio fanficfan #fanfiction #wwe fanfiction

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atinylittlepain · 7 months

Text

Split Seam

steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

18+ allusions to smut, stuffy family dynamics, overall just a fun time tho

a/n | marriage done the standy way, this was fun to write :')

...........................................

It’s raining in Philadelphia and chocolate hearts are on sale at the CVS down the block from his apartment. Valentine’s cards too, pink and purple and red and everything must go. He buys a bottle of seltzer and a chocolate rose. When he gets to the station he unwraps the red tinfoil and takes a large bite out of the bloom. He’s starving, didn’t get lunch at the office today with the usual end of the week scramble of numbers and numbers and suits and numbers. But he’s only got an hour and change on the train. He can hold out, Hershey’s aside.

He’s done this train ride sixty-two times now. This is number sixty-three, but he’s not keeping track. All he knows is that it still feels like relief when he’s seated and the train starts moving. It’s always felt like a relief to be moving in the same direction as her again.

They’ve gotten this right, he thinks. As right as they possibly could, at least. The first year of what Andy called moderate-to-long distance was hard. Awkward phone calls with long swaths of silence, calls that were missed altogether, crossed wires, cataclysmic blowouts that were and weren’t about the things they argued about. But they’ve made it this far, nearly two years of this perpetual back and forth ache that’s only soothed with train rides, with closing that gap.

There’s been three apartments in New York, and he’s pretty sure he likes this last one that she’s in the best. Greenwich Village, old brick and pock-marked sidewalks and tall windows that wash warm over lightwood floors, and he likes being the one making this trip because he likes getting to see her in a space that feels like her. And he likes this too, the same as the first sixty-two trips, she’s waiting for him at the station, that brief moment, miracle, within which he sees her but she doesn’t see him. Checking her watch and running a hand back through her hair, in her brown leather coat, sharp and smooth and too cool for a banker from Philly, but she’s here for him, smiling big, smiling everything when her eyes finally catch his.

This always the same too, a soft, sweet rejoining, her hand curling at the nape of his neck, other arm slung over his shoulder and here, here, she presses her lips to his cheek, her nose sliding in line with his and hi, baby, another kiss, quick, and he’s home.

“They have you staying late again, don’t they? Or did you get all dressed up just to see me?” Little tug to his tie as they thread through throngs of people, out into the cool damp night in as close of a tangle they can be without getting heckled for it on the street.

“Catch-up from the holidays, or at least that’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Right, right, crunching numbers and murdering secretaries American Psycho-style?”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Little squeeze to her hip, little mean as they continue their walk back to her place. Her grin gets lit up by the neon creeping into the oncoming night.

“Kidding, your colleagues however, well, yeah.” Well, yeah, Andy had come into town right before Christmas to go to his company holiday party with him, and had gotten into not one, not two, but three verbal altercations with his co-workers about the invisible labor of women, as well as the recession. Not that he would admit it, but he had been impressed, and maybe a little flustered, watching her hold her own amongst the suits. They had left early on account of said flustering, as well as the little snap he had given to one of the suits who told him something about needing a muzzle for that one. The partition in the company-ordered limo was raised when they got back into it, the green velvet of her dress hiked up and up and up exposing sheer black nylon and skin, and they both had forgotten all about the suits and the snap by the time they got back to his apartment. He still gets a little hazy, sweet gauze in his mind when he thinks about it.

“How are the feminists this week?”

“Oh you know, angry, hairy, generally awesome and oppressed. I turned in my third draft on Wednesday.”

“That’s amazing, honey. It must feel good to be almost finished.”

“It feels good to finally get my advisor off my ass. Bigger and better things, et cetera, et cetera.” He knows not to ask after bigger and better, having made the mistake once of asking if she had heard back from any of the PhD programs yet. She had smiled a watery thing, and promptly dissolved into a pool of sound and tears, too much, don’t ask. She’ll tell him when the news comes in, he knows, though there still remains a selfish slice of him that hopes and hopes and hopes UPenn comes back with a yes, and she answers with a yes too. But for now this is enough, here, and stopping her on the stairs up to her apartment to press a curved kiss to her mouth, so proud of you, honey. She beams, scoffs, thank you, and it drips with sheepish sweetness, her eyes rolling up to hide the truth of it, but he still catches it, lets her believe he doesn’t when she tugs him into her apartment.

It’s true what they say about absence and fondness, at least in the case of Sylvia, who lately has been greeting him with a desperate peel of cries, twining around his legs with such a fervor that he has to try hard not to trip over her. No petting though, she still likes to scratch if it isn’t on her terms.

“Nice flowers.”

“Thank you, someone sent them on Valentine's day.” A veritable flame of roses sits preening in a vase on her kitchen counter. He had asked for the biggest, the best, no expenses spared because he’s making money now, real money, and any gifts for her have to be a sneak attack because of it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you better watch out because it looks like you have some competition from another suitor.” She lays the accent on thick, her family’s accent, soo-tah, throws in a waggle of her fingers, ring glinting for good measure. The ring, and the whole ordeal of it. There had been no family heirlooms left to ask Frank and Kitty Broder permission for, just a nervous conversation the day after Thanksgiving, the one before last, sweating hard beneath his collar and hands shaking. Because while Andy is anything but traditional, Steve picked up pretty fast that this was not quite the case with her parents. A fiance of the second oldest had clued him in on as much the first time Steve was brought home to meet the family, summer break and a big reunion, plenty of hands to shake and names to forget. And the second oldest’s fiance had sidled up next to Steve with a sloshing glass of prosecco and the grin of someone who had figured this whole production out. Somewhere between the mafia and the Vatican, you do the math, man.

Frank was unmoved, tolerant of the idea at best, considering him over the dark rims of his Buddy Holly-esque glasses, a stylish man, tall and thin man with a slick of gray hair and a thick gold ring that could blind you if it flashed the wrong way. He only had one question for Steve which, mercifully, he could answer correctly. Yes, he told Frank, raised Roman Catholic, though he left the non-practicing part out. Meanwhile, Kitty was already designing the invitations in her mind.

And that wasn’t even the hard part. Because yes, hasty by some judgements (Eddie’s), and unlikely by other judgements, given Andy’s views (Robin). But he knew, he knew, spent a few months looking for a ring in the evenings when he’d get off work. When he did find one, he didn’t even wait a week, letting the black velvet box burn a hole in his pocket on the train ride to New York that very same weekend. And the proposal itself was simple, no fuss or fanfare, if not a little nerve-wracking. He spoke honestly, plainly. He spoke love. And he’s never known relief like he did when she smiled and told him there’s no one else I’d ever say yes to, baby. So maybe it’s hasty, and maybe it’s all skewed a little unorthodox. But it’s theirs.

“They better act fast then, got that appointment tomorrow and all.”

“Did you bring all your documents?”

“Driver’s license, social security number. We’re set, honey.”’

“I’m still not changing my last name.”

“No, I know, I don’t care about that.”

“My mother is pissed about it, apparently so is yours.”

“I think when all this is said and done, those two are gonna leave their husbands and move in with each other.”

“God, that’d be good for them, or maybe terrible.”

“Little of both, probably.” One of the stranger outcomes of this whole wedding thing, the alliance that’s formed between Diane and Kitty. Though maybe not that strange, he thinks, certainly plenty of common in between them. At the very least, this wedding wouldn’t be happening next month without the pair of them leading the absolute battle charge of planning they’ve accomplished. Kitty’s words, knowing my Miranda, she’d be happy with a shotgun wedding in Reno, and Andy hadn’t disagreed, happy to leave all the cake and the flowers and the tulle up to their mothers. Steve was more than happy to stay out of the fray too.

“You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Steve, you never eat lunch. I ordered Thai before I left to get you,Tom Kha Gai and egg rolls, the usual. It should be here soon.”

And the rest of the evening is very boring, very mundane, a third-floor window lit up warm, and framed inside of it, them on the couch with a smattering of takeout boxes. His tie undone and hanging loose around his neck, top three buttons of his shirt popped as well. Warmth and salt and sour sating him, he goes slack when she tries to teach him how to properly hold his chopsticks, moreso enjoying the feeling of her hands fidgeting with his fingers, her careful concentration. He goes right back to using a fork when she’s finished, grinning at the roll of her eyes. And afterwards, stomachs full and eyes heavy, worn weary from their respectively long weeks, they get into the shower, all kind touch, simple pleasure, her fingers kneading back along his scalp and his hands soaped and slipping over her skin, working into the spots that he knows ache, satisfaction in her sighs.

Soon, he thinks, hopes, this won’t be a thing they have to ration, all this touch, all this sense, all this closeness. This will simply become the thing they do every night, getting into bed together and talking about things that don’t really matter while their bodies relearn one another. He wants these things in a near dizzying way, big, bold, brazen want that simmers and sighs in her presence, tired kisses, and it’s enough, her hand in his hair, and it’s enough.

He wakes up the next morning bleary-eyed with want, eager for this early morning appointment at the county clerk’s office, because this is another step, big step, making it even more real step. They both seem to feel it, quiet over the rims of their coffee mugs, smiling, and what? What? What’re you smiling about? It’s a big day, isn’t it? Yeah, nervous? No, you? Not at all, no. And he means that when he says it. There are few things in his life that he has been so certain about.

And yes, maybe they had a romantic idea of how this would go, but it really is just paperwork in a dimly lit cubicle, and signatures here and here and yes, wedding will take place within sixty days. Steve tries to make a joke about cousins, and is only met with a blank look from the clerk, and a swift side-eye from Andy.

But when the paperwork is signed and there’s a manilla envelope with their wedding license in his hand, there is a lightness, a lift, a giddy kick, like kids getting away with something when they leave the office. Tucked in close to each other, a little oblivious, and maybe a little obnoxious, and a man walking the other way lets them know as much, bumping right into Steve’s shoulder and watch it! And without missing a beat, Andy’s head whipping around and hey, fuck you, we just got married! Which, well, technically not, but it still makes them both laugh a breathless thing, wild, wind-bitten smiles. And they’re still running on all that flare and fluster when they get back to her apartment, open-mouthed kisses and greedy hands and she has to hold him back by the lapel of his coat to grin an awful thing and you wanna see the dress?

“You have it?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, here, right now?”

“Yes, Steve, it’s been fitted and everything. Locked and loaded and ready to blast me off into marital bliss with you, et cetera, et cetera. Now, do you, or don’t you, want to be the first, the very first, to see it on me in all its matrimonious glory?”

“Isn’t that bad luck?”

“Baby, please.” She groans, pressing her forehead against his, and really, he’s just giving her a hard time, because he knows what this means to her, beneath all the snark. The first to see it before anyone else, before the rehearsal, and the aisle, and all the family that neither of them really care to have present. A moment for them, just for them, and no one else.

“You really want me to see?”

“Mmhmm.” Quiet, crackling murmurs, whispered between smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’d like to see.”

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.” And so he does, a little shake in his hands, a little burst and batter of his heart against his ribs. Nervous now, and he’s not sure why, the ticking of the clock pulling taut and loose all over like melted taffy. And then, and then, the padding of bare feet, and the hard rush of blood in his ears, and the sweet exhale when he does finally see her.

“Honey.” Bordering on pained, the word is said with a sigh, and he’s not going to, no, no, just a little flush of heat behind his eyes and in his throat and Andy’s baby, don’t cry makes him sniff hard and swallow, his hand settling on her hip when she steps closer between his legs. Smooth white silk and simple, and her hair is still gathered in the clip she tucked it up into this morning and she’s still wearing a smear of Vaseline on her lips and she’s the best thing he’s ever seen, he thinks. Tells her as much and she smiles big, chin tucked down and her thumb stroking along the column of his neck where her hand is loosely curled.

“Well, thoughts?”

“Wow, just wow, yeah, no other thoughts.” He knows she’s going to start wilting under any more compliments, never one for them, a warbly Steve that makes him smile, squeezing at her hip, coaxing her to c’mere, c’mere, even as she resists his pull.

“If you fuck up this dress we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Not gonna fuck it up, just come a little closer. I wanna, uh, look at the stitching.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Even as she says it, her smile is starting to slip and spread, another shuffled step closer as his hands splay across her low back, and lower, and lower, and a squeeze that’s just a little mean, making her laugh while he starts to hike all that silk up and up into his hands.

A few weeks later, when he’s met with the sight of her in that dress in a very, very different context, all he can think about is that afternoon. No one will ever know that he got to see her first in that dress, before anyone else. Nor will they know that they spent the rest of that afternoon splayed on her living room floor with the fabric of her dress bunched up around her hips and his hands curled into the plush of her thighs and his mouth, open and taking, watching the dip and fold of fine fabric, the arch of her back, pleasure for pleasure’s sake. No one will know that in the after, his hips stilled and flush against hers, both of them panting and preening into each other’s kisses, they found the smallest tear at her hip, and that she couldn’t be mad about it, not even a little, when he sunk back down between her legs and laid his apology at the open hinge of her hips.

He’ll find that tear again, when the vows are said, and the family and friends are clapping, and they’re walking down the aisle together, his hand on her hip. He’ll find the tear then, the perfect secret shared between them in a quick glancing smile.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington au #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington series #steve harrington story #girl boy

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heart4reigns · 1 year

Text

UNTOUCHABLE, jey uso (ii).

previous chapter

warnings: curse words, making out i guess idk, flirting, substances, cigarettes, alcohol, pet names, people trying to flirt w you

tags: wrap it up kiddos, comedy time!! dominik being slightly jealous because he’s a protective bff

BEING with the top frat boy was difficult at first. the two of you had to adjust your social life, schedule, and everything in-between. it was also kind of weird for people to see the two of you together, but no one dared to say anything. your friends, on the other hand, were very ecstatic about you venturing into the love game. especially for becky and seth. they insisted on going on double-dates with the two of you.

you were still trying your best to show affection for him; as it was hard for you to express your feelings sometimes. jey, contrary to the popular belief–was a kind and loving partner. he understood that you were not used to all of this. you didn’t expect it, coming from him with his entire reign of being a fuckboy. this was something special for him. the love he had for you was genuine and he was willing to try. you weren’t official yet, the two of you were comfortable with what you had now.

it was just a regular friday before finals; seth with his thesis draft, becky with her laptop, jey with his blunt, and you with your books. he was passing the joint to everyone and to your relief, you needed that joint. being the teaching assistant for several first years stressed you out. not to mention, you had to keep track of his academics too. jey decided that he actually needed to change in order for him to graduate. no, he didn’t leave behind his parties and all of that fraternity bullshit; but he wanted to become a better person.

so, he enrolled to one of your study groups.

at first he was joking around, still being the rowdy frat boy he was, but when he saw you during your teaching mode, jey knew he wouldn’t mess with you. “fuck, you rolling another one already?” seth chuckled, seeing him pull out the papers. “blame ms. teaching assistant right here taking up all the puffs.” he ruffled your hair. “finals are coming and i need a break.” you defended yourself.

“are you coming back to your town for holidays?” you shook your head at becky’s question. “no, my mom is going to paris. for no fucking reason.” becky chuckled. “you don’t wanna go with her?” “i think i’ll stay here, i mean i got a job in town. so, summer job. yippie!” you sarcastically said. “what about you becks?” the orange-haired girl took a bite of her apple before answering you. “seth and i are gonna stay with my parents for a bit, we’re not gonna be here for summer, you’ll suffer on your own.” she replied. “and you?” you faced your boyfriend, who was still focusing on his rolling joint.

“i’m staying here, baby. i need to work on my thesis.” jey replied, passing you the freshly-rolled blunt. you took a hit off it, feeling the smoke inside your throat. “you know what? take that one. i’ll just roll another one, baby.” he chuckled and took a quick peck on your forehead. you flared up in embarrassment, still not used to romantic gestures. “awww, look. she’s blushing! seth, take a pic!” “i’ll kick your ass, becky.”

nighttime came and you parted ways with the eccentric couple, leaving you and jey all alone in the abandoned park near the campus ground. the two of you were laying down, head slightly fuzzy due to the substance you took. “i hate you.” you muttered, nuzzling your head on the crook of his neck. “every time you get high on your own, you always blame me, sweetheart.” “i hate you for having good dealers.” you continued. “don’t hate the player, hate the game.” your head felt very light as you studied his features. “you know, you’re really pretty.” you caressed his face. “i could say the same thing, baby.” he leaned closer, lips connecting with each other–taking in the heat of summer.

“are you staying with me tonight?” he asked, in-between kisses. “do you want me to?” you teased him. “you don’t know how much i want you tonight.” he whispered. “well today is your unlucky day, uso. the girls are gonna throw a surprise party for bianca for killing the ballet performance.” yo saw him groan in despair. “fuck, baby. you and your sorority stuff.” jey complained. “hey, i didn’t complain when you were out on a boys camping trip for a week.” you defended yourself. “okay, you’re right. i’m sorry.” “apologies will be accepted in the form of kisses.”

finals came by and you were finishing up your last lab exams for the semester. you quickly packed up your stuff and went outside the lab. to your surprise, you spotted a certain senior leaning on one of the railings in front of your class. "hey, baby." your cheeks reddened as he kissed your forehead. "what are you doing here?" you furrowed your brows. "came to pick you up, we're going to town. you deserve a treat baby."

you got a full princess treatment from him. he took you on never-ending dates, you never paid for anything when you were with him. you insisted on paying every time you were out, but he would always decline. "we're coming to roman's party right?" "i'll go if you go to the seminar with me." jey lit up his cigarette, passing it to you. "fine, i'll go to the damn seminar with you, baby." your eyes lit up in excitement. "thank you."

"how was your finals?" the two of you were eating in some random diner in town. "it was okay, i think i kinda messed up for my last lab report." you sighed. "nah baby, you never failed a class. you're not cody." he joked, making you smile. "cody failed statistics... had to mentor him for 5 months, he's doing great now though." you added. "how about you? how's your thesis going?" you returned the question. "halfway there, i'm doing this for you baby." you shook your head. "you're doing this for yourself." you smiled.

it was true that jey had a boost on his academics, even the professors noticed. right now, he was attending a seminar, with you as one of the speakers. it was about some medical seminar that he didn't really know about. but he was there for you. "bless my old heart. jey uso, in the flesh. what are you doing here?" professor heyman chuckled when he saw jey writing down his name on the admission booth. "hey professor heyman. here for my girl." he pointed at you, who was preparing for the session.

"well, good for you then." months passed and his feelings for you grew stronger. his life turned upside down and he was happy. at certain times, he felt like he didn't deserve you–as the two of you had different backgrounds. the man sat down, waiting for your session to begin. you were on the standing near the podium. the two of you made eye-contact and jey gave you a wink. "good luck, baby." he mouthed. "thank you." you replied.

"hello everyone, good morning. my name is (y/n) (l/n), i'll be representing the medical faculty for today's seminar." he was very proud of you.

the ride back to your dorm wasn't silent at all. his left hand on the steering wheel and his right hand on your thigh. "you staying with me tonight?" you nodded, still reading your book. "words, baby." "yes, head-boy of the bloodline, the main event, the one and only jey uso." you mocked him. you expected him to groan in response, but a chuckle came out of his mouth. "damn, (y/n). i love you so much."

his 'i love you' got into your head. there you were, slightly distracted. "yo, you okay?" you looked up and saw jey's twin, jimmy. "huh?" you muttered. "you look distracted." he shrugged his shoulders. jey was downstairs, waiting for the pizza to arrive. you couldn't really go anywhere because security was already on their duty. so you were stuck in jey's room, which was in front of jimmy's room and right next to roman's.

"yeah, (y/n). what's up?" roman nudged you. the three of you grew closer, due to your 'relationship' with jey. "nothing man, it's just..." you sighed. "jey confessed to me." they were confused. "i think we know he likes you alrea-" "he said 'i love you'." the room became quiet. "that's new. my brother doesn't say 'i love you' to people, (y/n)." jimmy added. "man, this is just new..." roman muttered. "what did you say after that?" jimmy asked, drinking his water.

you didn't say anything. "i don't know, i didn't say anything. it came out of the blue. fuck, i'm too scared to say it back. i'm not used to this." you admitted. "i mean, don't force yourself if you're not ready. i'm sure he'll understand-" "yo, i got the pizza!" your conversation was cut short.

summer came and you were very ecstatic for it. you got a new job and you were going to spend the summer with jey. you were quite relieved to know that the campus guards were on their break, so you could sneak easily to the boys dormitory. you were back in jey's room, trying your best to stay awake. it was only 6 pm and you were very sleepy. he forgot to bring his keys and you were waiting for him to come back from the gym.

jey: [picture attached]

jey: what's good

your eyes widened in surprise as you saw his attached picture. "this man is taking thirst traps..." you muttered.

(y/n): get ur ass here

(y/n): why are u as a man taking thirst traps?????

(y/n): ok no actually keep them coming

jey: lmaooooo

jey: ur wish is my command, princess

jey: on my way back don't fall asleep just yet

"open up." you stood up from his bed, his sweatshirt falling to your knees. "now what did i say about looking cute with my clothes on?" he immediately dropped his duffle bag to hug you. "ew, go shower first." you joked as he couldn't stop kissing your entire face. "are you ready for roman's party?" you shook your head. "i'm literally wearing your sweatshirt and no pants, do i look ready?"

it was roman's birthday party. you took a liking to the college athlete, he was one of those frat boys that wasn't a douchebag. the two of you were finally ready to go. "do you always look this good?" he was standing behind you, hands on your waist. "and are you always this flirty?" he couldn't help but to laugh at your question. "only to you now, babygirl. let's go."

the party was obviously packed, roman was a popular college athlete with a bright future. "yo, uce. happy birthday!" jey hugged him, passing him his birthday present. "happy birthday, uce." you followed jey's gesture. "look, it's my favorite couple. thanks guys, enjoy yourself tonight!" roman gave the two of you red cups filled with whatever alcohol was available on the counter.

"too bad becky and seth are already out of town, miss them already." jey sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette. "yeah, kinda miss getting ready with her." you added. "i think jimmy's asking me to play beer pong with him." jey pointed at his twin, who was waving his entire arms at the two of you. "you wanna come?" you shook your head. "nah, i'm going outside for some fresh air. it's getting cloudy here." he nodded. "you sure? want me to come?" once again, you shook your head. "it's okay, got your guys everywhere. they know what to do if anything happens."

all of the frat boys took an oath to protect the sorority girls at all cost. especially now, since you were seeing their head-boy. even though you were totally capable of protecting yourself, jey had all of his boys to protect you. "dom!" you spotted your best friend, chilling near the pool with his tiny group. "(y/n)!" he greeted you back. "i miss you." you admitted. "you're too occupied with jey to think about me." he rolled his eyes. "hey, it's not like that." you smacked your head.

"anyways, this is austin. people call him theory for no fucking reason, he's from alpha academy, you know? near your new workplace." you nodded in response. your guard was still up to new people. "yeah. hi." you said, with a straight face. "you didn't tell me damage ctrl had pretty girls like her." you immediately furrowed your brows in disgust. "dude, she has a boyfriend." dom added, trying to diffuse the situation. "and where's her boyfriend?"

"he's right here, man. get your own girl." you were startled to hear jey's voice coming from behind you. his arms were around your waist, pushing you closer to him. "alright, damn. was just messing around." he chuckled. "dom, think jimmy needs another beer pong player. go inside." dominik couldn't help but to comply with his head-boy, leaving you behind with theory and jey. "you got any problem here, dude?" jey raised an eyebrow. "n- nah, just trying to have fun." he stuttered. "then move along."

his possessiveness towards you was the first thing you noticed when you started seeing each other. "he didn't say anything right, baby?" you shook your head. "no, it's alright." jey kissed your forehead. "he better pack the fuck up. i run this place." you chuckled at his sentence. "okay then main event jey uso, wanna get shitfaced?"

the night went on and you were already drunk in whatever you took from the party. at this point, you didn't even realize what was going on. "you ready to bounce, baby?" you took the last shot from your cup, head already fuzzy from the alcohol. "i'm gonna climb the walls." you joked. "don't need to, security cleared an hour ago. let's go back."

his dorm was so comfortable, you thought. you didn't know if you were too drunk to realize that you were still standing in front of his room, body paralyzed. "baby, come in! what are you doing?" he dragged you inside, guiding your body to the worn-out couch. "you okay there?" he asked. "i'm fine, just fuzzy." you replied with your eyes closed.

silence filled the room. you weren't tired, the alcohol was keeping you awake. "hi." he greeted you out of the blue. "hi?" you chuckled. "why the fuck are you so pretty?" jey asked, moving his body closer to yours. "i could say the same thing about you." you flirted back. "fuck, you really know how to rile me up, huh?" the man smirked, slowly pushing you down with him on top of you. the situation turned heated as you felt him kissing your neck.

"shit, this is too bright." he complained, practically skipping to dim the lights. you laughed at his antics. "okay, where were we?" he couldn't help but to laugh as well. you pulled his face closer to your, not breaking eye-contact. you felt his lips connecting with yours as his hands roamed under your shirt. slowly, but surely, your hands wandered around his pants, unbuckling his belt. "baby wait, nah... let me get protection." you nodded. "if you pull out your power rangers figures as protection, i will kill you."

"baby, we’re all out.” you couldn’t help but to chuckle. “damn. okay then, no.” he nodded at your answers, pulling back his pants. “thanks for understanding, i’m not on the pill.” “you don’t need to thank me, that’s bare minimum.” your heart fluttered a bit at his answers. goddamn, i’m so fucking in love with him, you thought.

the two of you laid on the couch, still trying to contain your laughters. "you're one of a kind, baby." he brushed your hair with his fingers. "god, if a year ago someone told me i'd be with you. i wouldn't believe it." jey added. "shut up, it's not like i'm the top diva or something." you chuckled, feeling the substance hitting you. "nah, i'm glad you don't have the keys with you that night. imagine if you had them, we'd still be strangers by now." the alcohol inside your veins toned down, you were wide awake.

"i never got to say i love you." you suddenly blurted out. it caught him off-guard. the atmosphere was comfortable enough for the two of you to just stay silent. "i know it's hard for me to express how i feel, because it's all new to me. but i love you." you continued, facing him. "thank you for also being patient with me, baby." jey continued to brush your hair with his fingers. "i'd do anything for you, princess."

"i can't believe you'd settle with someone like me." you confessed. "someone like you? you're all that i want." oh, jey uso was one big sweet-talker. you couldn't help but to blush at his sentence. the room was dark, the only source of light was the stupid fucking lava lamp that you hated. although you couldn't see him perfectly, you knew that he was staring at you. "something wrong with my face?" you asked. "nah, i just like looking at you."

despite all of those rumors about him, jey treated you with all of his heart. "you know," he paused for a second, sitting up from his position. "after we graduate and when we have proper jobs and our lives are settled, let's live together." your eyes widened in surprise. "are you joking?" he immediately turned on the lights. "i'm not joking, princess." the thought of moving in together never crossed your mind.

"or we don't have to if you don't want to." he added, hesitating a bit. "i'd love to." you blurted out. "we have the entire future in front of us, i just thought you wouldn't see me in it." his gaze softened. "baby, how many times do i need to tell you that i love you? you're making me a better person." he lit up his joint, passing it to you.

"here's to the future?" "to the future."

a/n: MODERN ROMANCE IS PASSING JOINTS TO YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER. anyways, hope you enjoyed it because i enjoyed writing this !!

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso imagine #wwe #the usos #wwe imagines #roman reigns #cody rhodes #wrestling #jimmy uso #solo sikoa #wwe x reader

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giggly-squiggily · 4 months

Note

Oh wow, thank you so much! I would like to request zenitsu with a s/o who has body image issues, If that’s ok. I remembered that they’re all buff, not just inosuke (which would be really funny if he was the only ripped one) but it just made me hyper-aware of my own body, even though I’ve been told my weight is fine. Once again thank you very very much and have a very happy holidays! -🎄

Heyo friend! My deepest apologies, I've been meaning to write this for the longest time but wanted to wait until I was in a good mental health space to do it. I can relate to this issue as well; especially the hyper fixation part. It's not an easy journey to work through, and I wish I could say something that makes everything easier- but all I can really say is you're not alone feeling this way, and that no matter how your body looks, it's valid the way it is. <3

(And 100% agree- we need more squishy slayers! I get their training leads to them having more buff bodies but I want squish! I want pudgy bellies and thick thighs dang it!) I hope I did your prompt justice friend <3

((Not gonna tag list peeps this one due to the content warnings below))

CW: Body image issues, self worth issues, mentions of eating disorders, insecurity, food, angst, hurt/comfort

It shouldn’t bother you so much.

Inosuke was always shirtless- saying something about clothes dulling his senses. There weren’t any rules against him going without, and if it really did affect his combat skills, it was better this way.

Still, it didn’t make you feel any better, pressing your arms tighter against your stomach as you watched him stretch. His build was so muscular and toned- his body giving him the extra ‘oomph’ he needed to perform the moves he does. It was what you deemed to be the ideal body type for the Demon Corps.

And you…well. Weren't that.

Your body was fine, according to Lady Kocho. Everything worked as it should, and you were able to keep up with the boys during training and whatnot. Things were on a smooth track, as she put it.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel...less, seeing not just Inosuke, but both Tanjiro and Zenitsu so ripped. They were developing hard muscles as visual evidence of their efforts. When they took their shirts off, you could tell just by looking at them they were Corp members.

You pressed more firmly against the soft parts of your torso, something cold and unpleasant setting in your gut as you came to the realization that even if you worked your absolute hardest, it's never likely you'll never look like them.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Tanjiro’s voice made you gasp and look up, finding his concerned eyes. “You look like you’re gonna throw up- is your stomach hurting?”

“Maybe they ate too much.” Inosuke piped up. It was such a meaningless comment, but it still felt like a dagger in your heart.

“Inosuke, hush.” Tanjiro scowled, but the damage was already done.

“That’s probably it! I just overate.” You put on what you hoped to be a smile as you straightened up, arms still guarding your stomach. “I’m gonna go see if Miss Kocho has medicine- bye!” You twisted so hard dust puffed around your feet, racing into the manor as Tanjiro called after you. Thankfully no one was following- it felt like permission to let the tears fall.

On your way in, you didn’t see Zenitsu watching you.

~~~

“Maybe I should cut back..” You murmured softly, slumped away in a spare room as you wiped your tear stained cheeks. You likely looked a mess- eyes puffy and face hot. It was a miracle no one came by to hear you sobbing alone. “Will that help me look like them?”

As if fate hated you, your stomach growled. You pushed your hand against it with a bitter thought. “Don’t even start. I need to do this.”

“Do what, exactly?” You yelped when you heard a voice, looking up to find Zenitsu. In his hands he had an assortment of things- a box of tissues, two ice cubes in a cup, and…

Oh no. “I’m not..” You began, only for your stomach to growl at the sight of the onigiri. Zenitsu raised a brow.

“You are.” He chided, coming over and sitting down. After offering the tissues to clean up with, he handed you the cup of ice. “These are good for swollen eyes. I know- I cry all the time.” He smiled, puffing some when you let out a weak giggle.

“I guess you’d know all the tricks to things like this.” You took the ice, wincing some at the chill. “Thanks, Zen.”

“Hm.” The blonde nodded, watching you circle your eyes with the chilly cubes. “How’s your stomach?”

“Huh?” You dropped a cube, watching it bounce away. “My what?”

He stared at you. You felt your face get hot. “Shoot…you knew that was a lie, huh?”

“I am your partner, (Y/N).” He reminded gently, frowning when you dipped your head. “Do you wanna talk about it? You’ve been looking so down recently- I want to help if I can.”

“I don’t think you could.” You sank further, hating how your stomach began to really hurt. Zenitsu, noticing this, offered you the rice balls.

“I don’t want them.” You shook your head.

“Your stomach hurts cause you haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“I can skip meals.”

“That’s not safe.”

“So what? If it means I can finally look like a proper slayer, I’ll do it!” You snapped, voice raising. Then you fell silent as you realized what you just said. Zenitsu blinked at you a few times.

“...What?” He stared, watching you tear up. “(Y/N)...”

“S-Sorry. That didn’t- I didn’t want to say that..” You sniffed, hating how close to tears you were today. “Just forget about it. I’m being stupid.”

Zenitsu stared at you before putting down the rice balls, scooting closer and reaching out. “(Y/N)..” You leaned away, and he let his hand fall back to his lap. “Are you starving yourself?”

“No…I just thought about it.” You confessed, unable to look at him. “I overeat, so I thought if I stopped eating lunch, maybe all this extra fat would go away.” You looked down at your stomach, tearing up again. “Then I’ll look like you guys. I’ll have muscles. I'll finally look like a real slayer..."

Zenitsu was quiet for a bit, seemingly stunned silent. Then he turned so he was facing you properly. “(Y/N), can I have your hand?”

You peeked at him, watching as he tugged up his shirt. “Why..”

“Please?” He asked again, eyes serious. You decided to give in and let him take your hand. He brought it to his torso, pushing it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

“I..” You didn’t really know what you were feeling. It felt like a body- warm beneath your touch. The whole thing was a bit embarrassing- your face heated up again at the thought of somebody walking in on you. “Zen, I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

“Sure you do. It’s my squish.” He nodded proudly, watching you blink in confusion. “Even when I gained all these muscles you’ve mentioned, I’m still soft. You have muscles too. They might not as visible, but they're there."

He was in fact soft. You pressed in, something oddly satisfying about the gesture. Zenitsu jerked and doubled over with a giggle, making you smile. “S-Sehee? I’m squishy. We all are.”

“But Inosuke..”

“Inosuke’s squishy too. He might not look it, but he is.” He released your hand, opting to hold it gently within his own. “Just because you’re not crazy ripped with no squish doesn’t make you any less of a Slayer. You don’t need your muscles to show to prove your worth. You've already done that just by being you. You're courageous, smart, kind.."

You felt your eyes water again, this time for a new reason. “Zen..”

"Really attractive." He winked, making you snort through your tears. “You're perfect the way you are. Forget about skipping meals, okay? It’s dangerous. What if you pass out mid-breathing technique with a demon? I don't-I can't lose you.” Zenitsu pulled the onigiri out, bringing it to your lips. “You eat fine- don't change for the sake of visuals."

Your stomach growled again, and you finally took a bite. The rice was seasoned and fluffy, and the filling was your favorite. You almost cried again at the taste. “Thank you..”

“Eat first. Thank me later.” Zenitsu smiled as you carried on eating, reaching out and grabbing a thermos. You didn’t see him with it earlier- he must have had it stashed away. “I brought tea too. No, I didn’t brew it- I wasn’t gonna make you feel worse.”

You nearly choked on your food as you laughed, smiling behind your fist as Zenitsu poured a cup for you. “Hohohow coohohnsiderate!"

“Yeah, I'm like that sometimes.” He grinned, relaxing as you sipped your tea. “I love you too much to let you die my attempts at making tea."

“New breathing technique unlocked- poison tea. Quick, let's go tell Lady Kocho.” You giggled, watching him start to smile. Before long, the two of you were laughing freely, falling into each other as you laughed yourselves breathless.

You are truly grateful to have someone like him in your life.

Thanks for reading!

#demon slayer #tanjiro kamado #zenitsu agatsuma #reader insert #inosuke hashibira #x reader #zenitsu x reader #tw: body insecurity #tw: eating disorders mentioned #tw: eating issues #tw: self worth issues #angst #hurt/comfort #food #I felt this one in my core so it was nice to write it out you know?

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look-at-the-soul · 2 years

Text

The secret celebration

Cillian Murphy x reader

Happiest of birthdays my dear Liv @gypsy-girl-08 🥰🎁🎂 I hope you had a fantastic day and you keep celebrating all weekend! I started working on this little bday treat since the end of November, made with all my love to celebrate you on your special day xx

⚠️ Smut 🤭

“Are you finally telling me where are we going?” You scoffed sitting on the bench in front of your bed to put on your high heels. He only asked you to wear a particular dress that drove him wild.

Cillian just stepped out from the shower, fresh aftershave and lotion and your mouth went dry.

“Are you finally stopping with the complains?” He half joked, feeling nervous, wishing every single part of his plan worked out.

“We could’ve just cooked here something…” You pressed while walking towards him as Cillian started buttoning his blue shirt.

“Ah no, no, no… I know what you’re doing Y/N.”

You gave him your best innocent look. “What?”

“Every single time you start bitting your lips like that, we end up having sex, and I worked really hard for-” but he stopped himself mid sentence, his plans almost ruined. “See? You get me all worked up…”

“Me? But I didn’t do anything.” You wanted to laugh really loud, he was so easy.

He arched his eyebrows, his full lips pursed in a tight line. While his eyes wandered down your body.

Fuck, you looked fabulous and if it wasn’t because he worked so hard in every single detail, he’d bend you down the dresser and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

“At least you could give me a hint?”

“Nope, let’s go… it was hard to get a reservation and I don’t wanna loose it birthday girl.”

“But what about my birthday treat?” He looked at your cute pout for a few seconds, feeling lost in those lips.

His hand sneaked around your body, landing directly on your bum, to bring you closer. “You can get plenty of that later tonight.” He promised stealing one quick peck, trying not to ruin your make up.

The whole trip was the same, the endless questions about why was he so mysterious. Your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to heaven, a kiss on his neck… you were the master when it came tactics to distract him, but he was determined, he wasn’t going to tell you any of his plans.

“Now, I need you to wear this.” He waved a black scarf in front of you, after stopping midway.

This couldn’t be his final destination, he parked close to the beach.

“Please.” He requested giving you those eyes that made you forget your own name.

“No, Cill…” of course you trusted him, but it was so stressful not knowing what to expect, what his next move was.

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He winked and didn’t give you more time to protest.

The rest of the car trip, you lost track of time and space… was he driving in circles? Going to the family holiday house? You couldn’t tell. The soft music coming from the speakers of his favorites pieces of jazz, the soft humming of his deep voice, he could practically do anything he wanted with you.

“And, we’ve arrived.” He announced proudly, surprising you, stealing a kiss.

When he took the scarf from your eyes, you blinked a couple of times, not recognizing the destination.

“I’m stealing my fiancée for the weekend.” Cillian announced, eyes sparkling.

Looking at the incredible place before you, it made you think of a dream; big trees around, fairy lights decorating it even though it wasn’t Christmas, but it surely added a magic touch, a rustic cabin, cottage-like looking. As you stepped out of the car, you could hear a waterfall close… ugh and the smell, pure fresh air.

You were lost of words, didn’t notice when Cillian walked around the car until his arm wrapped around your waist.

“We’ve got everything we need here, there’s a couple of restaurants with international food, a spa, pool, a café… oh, right the phone signal is kind of bad.”

Turning your entire body to him, your smile simply didn’t fit your face, you needed more room for a bigger smile, if that was even possible.

He asked the staff to put a bottle of your favorite wine and dessert in the room, they even offered flowers and another birthday treats, the chef would prepare your favorite childhood dessert. He wanted to make this day extra special for you, a day you could remember forever.

“Are you really locking me here?”

His laugh vibrated through his chest, against your cheek as you hugged him.

“I hope that’s a good thing and not a torture.” He joked, pushing you gently.

After confirming the reservation, the bags you didn’t know he packed for the weekend were taken to your room, he explained how his sister found the place and suggested it would be nice to celebrate in private, just the two of you, before the crazy press schedule he had booked for the release of the Oppenheimer movie.

“I like it when you torture me.” You teased pulling gently at his curls, now that he had grown them back, you didn’t want them to ever be gone again, his toned beefy body was back as well, and to think you’d have him all for you during the entire weekend… your mouth watered.

“Y/N, behave.” He slapped your bum slightly, taking advantage that no one was around. “What will people think? Poor man, that woman is insatiable.”

That was one of your favorite things of your relationship with him, the constant teasing, how you both matched the other filthy attitude. It was like an inside joke just for the two of you.

Walking towards the restaurant, you were met by another breathtaking view, in front of the terrace there was a huge fountain with ‘dancing water’ that moved to the rhythm of the music, just like the iconic fountain from Las Vegas.

Dinner was amazing, but the best part of it was the privacy you got, something Cillian craved so much.

After meeting in 2018 when Professor Pat Nolan introduced you to Cillian after assuring you that your life experiences were vital for a project that Cillian was working on, you met at a café and even though the book project that brought the two of you together was on hold for four years, your relationship started right away, you still remember so well how he leaned against the table, chin over his hand and his eyes tore apart every layer of your soul. He was fascinated by your empathy story and you were by his brilliant idea of turning it into a book and bring the matter into the table, he wanted the world to talk about empathy.

Over the curse of those years you witnessed the endless hours he dedicated to the book, to every story that would be part of it…

“What are you thinking of?” His question pulled you back to present time.

Those eyes, still sneaking into your heart.

“When we met.” You stated with a smile.

Squeezing your hand he smiled, thinking of that as well.

“I firmly believe there’s a reason for everything, the right time and place.”

“And the right person.” You added, thanking the staff for dinner and walked back to your room. “Thank you for this beautiful surprise.”

You wasted no time once he opened the door, taking the initiative after an eternity of waiting.

“I want, no… I need my other present now.” You kissed his jaw, then his neck, feeling his pulse quickening.

“Your wish is my command.” He turned you around to undo the straps that held your dress together.

Clothes quickly thrown to the floor, no words needed. Your legs trembling after he had been slowly teasing your breasts with his mouth, you standing between his legs, one of your hands using his shoulder for support, while your fingers of the other, pulled at his curls, a deep moan abandoned your mouth as his fingers moved in and out of your center. His eyes focused on your pleasure.

When you thought you couldn’t resist it anymore he made you straddle him, and then he stood up with you anchored to his waist, turning Cillian placed you gently on the mattress, waiting no time to push your lower lips apart to find the way home.

In a tender, but firm rhythm, he rocked your bodies, legs tangled, hands touring each other’s skin, until your orgasms danced in unison.

Looking into his eyes, you could only think of the waves of pleasure setting your body in fire.

Until the fireworks subsided, your eyes kept locked.

With a groan, he pulled out from you.

“Can we stay for the whole week?”

Taking your leg, Cillian placed it on his lap, fingers running up and down. “So you liked my surprise?” His lips brushing over your shoulder, ready for the second round.

“This is the perfect way to celebrate my birthday… the perfect date.”

****

Part 2

Want to ‘hire’ me for special occasions? 🤣 send your request, here we celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, holidays.. whatever you want! xxx

Master list

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#That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut

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tomorrowxtogether · 2 years

Text

YEONJUN: “I never want to forget that I can’t take anything for granted”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION comeback interview

2023.02.06

Everything, everywhere is full of passion. It’s cheerful. Friendly. This is YEONJUN’s world.

You brought a book of poetry for the gift exchange you held with the other members for your holiday Weverse Live.

YEONJUN: I’m not a heavy reader but I got inspired after seeing some nice quotes and poems on social media. And I thought it would be nice to show them to those who are having a hard time around me. I think I’m good at using wordplay in my lyrics but not so much at incorporating my emotions, so I thought poetry books might help.

The lyrics you wrote for the track “Farewell, Neverland” off the latest album are sentimental.

YEONJUN: And yet it wasn’t particularly difficult. I always watch a lot of movies and have a good imagination. My MBTI has N, after all. (laughs) I’ve had a rich imagination ever since I was young so I used to imagine myself as a movie character and act like one. I wrote the lyrics to “Farewell, Neverland” by picturing myself as one of the boys who wants to play with Peter Pan. They don’t want to grow up but they have no choice but to leave Neverland if they’re going to keep developing and moving forward. I wrote it from the perspective of resisting Peter Pan’s temptation.

Conversely, the lead single “Sugar Rush Ride” and the song “Devil by the Window” explore what temptation and giving into it looks like. I’d say you tried recording with some new vocal styles that you never used before.

YEONJUN: You know, if you’re tempting someone you don’t just say, (dryly) “Come here.” You have to say it in a sly and sexy voice. (laughs) So I went over the top for some parts, abandoning my normal self and getting into the role of the devil, then for other parts I really exaggerated my vocals and tried to make the expressions as strong as possible.

What was it like writing lyrics for “Happy Fools” (feat. Coi Leray)? I was curious to see if there would be a moment you give into temptation, seeing as you’re usually so hardworking.YEONJUN: I really sympathize with the idea of wanting to have fun, so I kept that in mind while writing the lyrics. But, to be honest, even when I’ve had a hard time, the worst it ever gets is I can’t concentrate quite as well or I practice a little less. I never once completely gave up on anything. So you’re saying you’ve always done everything you have to. (laughs) Don’t you ever feel like blowing everything off, even just occasionally?YEONJUN: Even if I thought about it, I don’t think I could actually go through with it. It’s already such an inborn habit and just the way I work. What if you magically had one day where you’re allowed to live life however you want—a day where you won’t get tired for tomorrow no matter what you do and it won’t have any effect on all the effort you’ve put in so far?YEONJUN: (laughs) Could I have that? (After thinking it over) I’d probably just do something fun, I guess? Hang out with friends, go somewhere cool to listen to some music. But that’s not something I absolutely crave anyway. Why’s that?YEONJUN: I’m so ambitious and eager that it outweighs any inconveniences. This job is my pride and joy. I’m pretty easygoing but I also have a lot of dignity. (laughs) I want to keep feeling proud when it comes to my work. It’s interesting to see your photos in that sense. You usually aim for perfection, even under pressure, but you look so natural when you have your picture taken—like you don’t even notice anyone’s looking.YEONJUN: I always enjoy photoshoots. Today’s shoot for Weverse Magazine was no exception. I feel enough pressure on a day-to-day basis so I try to have some confidence when I’m doing a shoot. And anyway, it’s the real deal. It’s like how actors really try to become another person rather than just read lines from a script. It’s the same with me: When I’m doing a shoot or on stage, I’m not just making facial expressions and striking attractive poses—I’m usually trying to become the kind of person who fits in with the given mood.

That helped make the Daydream version of the concept photos for the new album memorable. Whereas showing off your bare chest and back could’ve been burdensome, you make it look like a breeze, and you stuck out your tongue in a unique way.YEONJUN: I was okay with showing some skin. I think everything from the background to the outfits, hair and makeup were perfectly orchestrated to set the mood. I think they really helped sell the particular idea of dreaminess for the Daydream version. But I also worried that taking off my top would come across as leaning too hard into sex appeal. As I understood it, it was never meant to be like that. It should be really clear from how I’m sticking out my tongue, but it’s meant to be mischievous. Mysterious but mischievous. So I was trying to convey a mix of feelings. You worked yourself very naturally into the atmosphere of your concerts during last year’s ACT: LOVESICK world tour and at Lollapalooza. You really couldn’t hide your excitement over the festival atmosphere at Lollapalooza.YEONJUN: You’re right. It was a valuable time to reflect on why I do this line of work. I got started in this because of how much I love the stage. Is there an area you want to explore more of? In an earlier interview in Weverse Magazine, you said you wanted to try writing more intense lyrics, and you said in a vlog you recorded while in the US that you used all your energy on the Lollapalooza stage and even said, “This is what a performance is.”YEONJUN: We can’t do everything we want in the course of our everyday lives. There’s so many restrictions. But when it comes to the stage, I can do anything I want. So I think I want to do whatever I want to the fullest no matter what people say. That’s true for music, performing and photoshoots, too. So you must’ve been really energized while interacting with MOA from so many different countries.YEONJUN: It meant a lot because I’m the kind of person who wants to experience everything. I was especially amazed how the mood and energy differed between cities. I was impressed how calm and extremely focused on the concert itself they were in Japan, and then Southeast Asia they sang along really passionately to the songs and were jumping up and down. In the US they sang and danced in front of us however they wanted without feeling self-conscious. After Lollapalooza, I really thought I just want to be a massive rock star. (laughs) So I tried writing songs that everyone could dance to and have fun and just enjoy themselves to.

You continuously contribute to the music and lyrics of the songs on your albums. Can we expect to hear some songs that are about your personal stories?YEONJUN: I still want to work on it a bit more before I reveal anything to MOA. I’m the type of person that cannot show if I’m not confident or if I’m not fully ready. (laughs) You’re quite the perfectionist. (laughs) Because of the nature of your job, though, it’s always the case that you have to have something to show by a specified time. How do you deal with that? I’m thinking especially about how you have to play many different roles, like when you performed “Lonely Boy (The tattoo on my ring finger)” at 2022 MAMA last year and the dance covers you did at 2022 SBS Gayo Daejeon.YEONJUN: In my personal opinion, none of those performances were perfect. I just tried to put on performances that were as close to perfection as possible. I just practiced as much as I could until time was up. I didn’t want to feel anxious right before I got up on stage and worry about whether I could do a good enough job. In the end, I tried my best and did it all without any mistakes. (laughs) I’m surprised someone with such a strong stage presence is so hard on himself. You garner a lot of attention, too: You earned the nickname 4th Gen It Boy and now have over 12 million followers on Instagram.YEONJUN: I do love myself and have high self-esteem, but apart from that, I’ve never felt fully satisfied with myself. I’m always finding something I could be doing better. Aside from the title you mentioned, I trained for this job long enough that I always feel like I need to be doing better.

That makes me think of the lyrics to “Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock),” which you helped write. Do you ever feel like you’re “just a rock” after spending so much time thinking and putting in the effort?YEONJUN: I’m sure every artist has that feeling at some point. As an artist, I’m always following a big dream when I work, but sometimes when I see myself I feel like I’m not good enough and I feel useless—like I’m nothing. That’s what I was thinking about when I wrote those lyrics. So you’re always aiming higher.YEONJUN: I want to be a role model and to be able to have a good influence on people. My friend told me a really good story yesterday. Apparently, a friend of a friend is my fan. When that MOA saw I had written “study hard” when I signed their CD, that was enough to get past being bullied, study hard and make it into the university program this friend wanted. I just wrote that short message. When I heard that, I thought, I’m at a place now where I can change a person’s life. What about this job could be more rewarding than that? You don’t hold any prejudices and you respect everyone for who they are. For example, you wore a skirt and made a post saying boys can wear skirts too, and when you first saw iced tea with a shot of espresso and confirmed that that person ordered it that way on purpose, you responded, “Okay then, no problem.”YEONJUN: I try not to hold prejudices. I fell into some preconceived notions in the past, but the world keeps changing and there’s still a lot more that needs to change. So I took a careful look at myself, didn’t really like what I saw and thought I better not let myself get stuck in those mindsets. Are you always fully conscious of what’s happening around you? I recall on Weverse Live when HUENINGKAI was feeling camera-shy because of his messy hair but MOA really wanted to see him and you carefully smoothed over that situation.YEONJUN: I try but I don’t know if I’m doing a very good job. (laughs) I try to organize my thoughts by priority at least. I start by talking about what needs to be taken care of immediately and wait a little to bring up other things when there’s an opportunity. I also take each of the members’ styles into consideration. They’re all very different. (laughs) I felt a lot of pressure last year to get us more in sync and practicing more when we had to get a lot of performances ready in a short time because I tend to be ambitious about wanting to do a good job. But it takes some time for everyone to get on the same page and that’s just the way it is. So I talked about the most pressing issues first and waited to talk about the other parts till the next time and we got in sync that way.

I imagine spending so much time together during the world tour must have made it a major turning point for the group, too.

YEONJUN: We definitely had more of a chance to talk. Things have always been good between us, but we got even better at being open with each other than before. I think it can actually be harder to be open with someone the more time you spend together and the closer you are. I tried to be more open, too, and we all tried really hard on the things we felt were important or necessary. That’s how we got better.

In an interview with GQ last year, you said, “We have to try harder so we can be extremely good.” That seems to be your default attitude toward both the other members and toward MOA.

YEONJUN: I think you can always do better, no matter how good you already are. I know I have my weaknesses but I can always do better despite that. I think, if you have your thoughts set on some specific standard, you’re done for. And I’m always YEONJUN from TOMORROW X TOGETHER before just YEONJUN. I couldn’t have done any of the things it took to get me to where I am today on my own. The label helped and because I have the other members and MOA with me, we can all shine brighter.

Is that why you’re always showing the people around you how grateful you are? You shared the heartfelt messages you wrote to the staff you work with on Weverse and you even got snacks for hosts Jjoonijjoon and the rest of SBS’s Inkigayo staff.

YEONJUN: I think it’s really important to be grateful. I really hate when I take things for granted. I think I’ll fail as both a person and as an artist the moment I start taking others for granted. We’re going to get more and more the more we grow, and I never want to forget that I can’t take those things for granted. I think I need to be a person first and an artist second.

Personally, the lyrics to “Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock)” made me think of the movie Everything Everywhere All at Once. If you could pick one version of yourself from the multiverse, like in the movie, which YEONJUN would you choose?

YEONJUN: Me? I’m just … I’m happy the way things are now. (laughs) I hope I would be a happy YEONJUN. If it’s good, it’s good. (laughs) I want the YEONJUN who lives in a world where everyone’s happy and worry-free.

I wonder if that happy YEONJUN is doing the same work that you do.

YEONJUN: Yep.

#txt #tomorrow x together #230206 #weverse magazine #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION #The Name Chapter

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cambria-writes · 2 years

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it certainly is december 24th! sorry for taking so long to update; i’ve been in a writing slump for a few weeks, and though the next few chapters of honey are already written, i just. completely forgot about them?

anyways i’ll be posting a nice lil winter/holiday special later today or tomorrow, depending on how i feel. for now at least you have the next chapter!

pairing: patrick jane x reader word count: 2,852 rating: T, each chapter rated individually warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, reader goes a bit heavy on the wine lmao, implied homophobia

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔐𝔦𝔵𝔢𝔯

It’s simple enough: have a nice dinner, get drunk (or, at least, look very drunk), approach the broody paranoid-looking rich boy, get him to follow you...

And then it gets a little vague.

“You’re still worrying about it,” Jane comments, sipping at the same glass of wine he had twenty minutes ago.

“Whatever gave it away, darling?” The smile almost hurts your face. It’s a struggle to keep your voice just this side of sickly-sweet. Jane gives you a toothy grin that nearly makes you shiver. The resemblance to a starving fox isn’t lost on you.

“Just use your womanly wiles. You’ll be fine, you’re not at all hard on the eyes.”

He takes a careful sip of his wine while you nearly spit out the mouthful of salad you’re trying to choke down. You can feel the burn spread from your face to your chest. You hate it.

“Don’t do that,” you mutter, washing everything down by finishing whatever wine was left. You wave down your waiter; you’re far too sober for any of this. You ask for a cocktail; you don’t care what it is as long as it’s sweet and strong. The waiter gives you a look but walks off to a small bar somewhere off to your left.

“Do what?,” Jane asks, and you hate the innocence in his tone. Everything about you says what.

“Fli-flirt with me,” you whisper, stabbing the remains of your salad with more vigor than necessary. You keep your eyes down. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Ah, but you don’t dislike it.” The victory is his voice makes you want to scream. You look up at him incredulously. There’s a retort, but it dies on your tongue when the waiter drops a crystal blue highball glass in front of you.

He rattles off its name and contents but you don’t care. Chug half of it in one go and finish your salad. You can feel the alcohol singing in your veins like fire. You raise your hand to down the rest of it, but... stop.

Sharpen your fear into a knife. That means you need fear to sharpen. Though arguably you are slightly inebriated, you are still a good, healthy measure of terrified. You’re in a restaurant too nice for your bank account. You’re sitting with a man you hardly know pretending to be his newly wed wife despite the fact that his actual wife is Very Dead. You’re expected to approach the handsome and paranoid son of a Russian mob boss like you have no idea who he is.

And you got shot at for knowing a dog a few days ago. Terrified probably doesn’t actually cut it.

The more you think about it, the more paralyzed you feel yourself become. Jane places a hand over your glass and forces you to lower your arm. The look he gives you is confusing.

“All you need to do,” Jane begins quietly. He never breaks eye contact. Somehow that unnerves and challenges you to do the same. “Is bring him to an empty table and talk to him. See the most you can in him.”

You notice that he noticeably doesn’t remove him hand from yours in a noticeable way. You start to think maybe you drank too fast.

“...I can do that,” you say slowly, losing track of the words as they exit your mouth. Your resolve doesn’t solidify so much as it coagulates. You look back to the paranoid brooding man by the window. Look back to Jane.

This’ll be fine. You’re technically single. You’re playing house with a handsome not-detective. And you’re closer to drunk than you’ve been in a while.

It’s fine.

There’s an extra sway to your hips as you make your way to the Window Man. His family eyes you cautiously but otherwise say or do nothing. You’d sigh if you had the presence of mind to. As it is, you feel nervous and flushed and a little bit breathless. You look over your shoulder to Jane, whose face displays everything from “look at my beautiful wife” to “look at all these sheep thinking there isn’t a wolf in their midst”. You swallow the bubbling giggles rising in your throat.

You stop a few feet away from Mr Brooding and lean forward to the side a little. Thank your stars you chose to wear the dress that shows at least a little cleavage. You don't touch him, and firmly hold your hands behind your back.

"Excuse me..?," you ask tentatively, and almost jump out of your skin when your target does. He whips around to glare daggers at you. Until he isn't, and his eyes follow your dress' straps down your neckline. Could use more class, but it's all whatever at this point.

"Wha—,” The man starts, but his voice sounds choked. Clears his throat and starts again. “What do you want?”

Can’t help but notice that most of the tension has left his shoulders. Was it really as easy as playing the part of the drunk bimbo?

“Sorry, gosh, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Place a hand low on your chest for emphasis and lean back on your heels. Ignore the slowly growing soreness in your feet. “My name’s Magda Wi—ah, Stephens!” Pretend to forget that your maiden name is gone. Seems to work; Brooding Man doesn’t seem to catch it.

The fake names roll off your tongue better with the alcohol. At least you hope; sounding believable while drunk is hard. How were you expected to ace this, again?

Brooding Man still eyes you suspiciously. You look over your shoulder and wiggle your fingers at Jane. He wiggles his fingers back at you. He makes a good show of looking far more inebriated than you know he is.

Turn back to the man in front of you with a dumb, apologetic grin on your face.

“Truth is, we just got married right? But I’ve always been kind of wild, you know, and he lets me get really crazy, bless than idiot, but—I’m sorry, geez, I’m rambling. Do you mind if we sit down? The wine’s getting to my head a bit but I really hope you can hear me out. Please?”

Clasping your hands right under your chest seems to work a charm; Brooding Man can’t help but look back down before looking back up at your face. Your very flushed face. It’s a miracle the people of Singapore can’t hear how hard your heart is beating.

“Sure,” Brooding Man answer’s smoothly. His entire demeanor changes. He offers you his arm to guide you to one of the few empty tables. The wait staff give you a look. The Family give you a look. Jane looks on wordlessly but with the starved attention of a predator.

“My name’s James Madore.”

James—Jim, Jimmy, Jamie—takes to you like a fly to honey. He hangs after your every word like they’re gold as soon as you mention you and your “husband” are looking for a +1 to your first honeymoon night. You rattle off the name of a hotel Jane had given you, and James seems pleasantly satisfied. Must be high-end, then. Not like you’d know.

You talk about yourself like the most self-absorbed, vapid girl on the planet. Your work in PR, you’re, like, so good with social media. You’ve worked with the Kardashians and Kanye and even Madonna for a little bit. You like the modest ring your husband have you because the chunky garbage is so overrated. You like indie music like it’s your lifeblood.

You make yourself sound like the worst hipster you’ve ever heard. And for whatever reason, it’s actually working. James is absolutely enthralled—both by whatever incoherent mess falls out of your mouth and by your cleavage.

You place a chilled hand over his on the table. He doesn’t flinch or pull away. He leans in closer. You’d almost be attracted to him if he wasn’t so, just. So arrogant.

“But geez, Jamie! You’re letting me do all the talking here!” Laugh like you’re pretending to be self conscious. You’re still not sober enough to know if you’re doing a good job of it. “What about you! What do you do? Is that your family over there? They look nice!”

They don’t look nice. When you wave at them, the older woman—presumably James’ mother—looks three seconds away from murdering you just for thinking about touching her son. Tough.

James tenses. Oh, that’s new.

Tilt your head to the side to feign ignorance rather than sudden intrigue.

“They’re alright,” James starts slowly, looking quickly over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Family business is rough though. My dad’s been trying to groom me to take over for years and my mom’s already decided who I’m supposed to marry. Can you believe that shit?”

A gasp. “Oh no! You’re kidding me! Seriously? Arranged marriages in this day and age?”

“Christ, right? It’s like they live in the 1700s!” James throws his head back in what looks like pure, unadulterated relief. You almost wish you could say you understand. When he bring his head back down, he looks... dismayed. You’d even say hopeless.

“Oh no,” you start, look around and lean in. Lower your voice. “You got your eyes on another girl?”

James looks stunned for a second, and then slowly shakes his head. You’re about to ask what, then, when it clicks.

Oh. Oh no. There’s a clear picture forming in your foggy mind and you’re not sure you like it. Force yourself you grin like a Cheshire Cat through your empathy and lean back in your chair.

“Well, if you don’t mind it, I’m sure you and my husband would get along just fine.”

James actually looks like he’s considering it for a minute. Looks back at his family—barely a fraction of a second—and then snatches his hand away from yours like it’s made of burning embers. Hide the confusion under a layer of what you hope is carefully crafted concern. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong, or offer reassurances, but silence yourself when you see James’ hands. His fingers are nearly white from how hard he’s gripping he table.

“Look, no offence, I’m sure you’re some decent folk, but I’m not interested,” he says sharply. You can’t help yourself from grabbing at his sleeve as he gets up. Do your best to shake the wine from your head long enough to think before you speak.

“Please. I honestly started out just wanting to pick you up for a threesome—“ James’ face turns about five shades of crimson. “—but you seem like a good kid. I just—I want to help you. Even if it's just giving you a night to relax, no strings attached. Just one night of fun where you can forget who you are.”

James' face is impassive for a little bit, but you think you can see him considering the offer. Considering you, at the very least; his eyes are fixed on your face. It's a little unnerving, honestly. The more you watch him, though, the more he seems like he's faltering. And somehow, though your mission wasn't really to woo him or even reel him in, you find yourself determined to do something.

You catch yourself fidgeting with the pendant around your neck when the young man's eyes drift down to it. He has the decency to snap his gaze right back up to your face. Your hand wraps around the teardrop pendant—clear and blue—and move to take it off.

"How about this," you start carefully. "I'm kind of a fortune teller on the side sometimes. How about you ask some questions and I try and get some answers for you?"

Jane's grip on your hand is almost bruising as he pulls you along behind him. You don't really have the time to say anything. You don't really breathe, either. Your hand comes up to your bare neck. You kind of wish you hadn't dropped your pendant in Jane's haste to get you out. You kind of liked it.

"Quick, come on, get in," Jane orders calmly, but his tone betrays the set of his eyes. You swallow thickly. You don't even have time to buckle up before Jane tears out of the parking lot. Confusion, mild panic and inebriation make it impossible to actually tell and remember which direction he's heading towards.

"Okay," you breathe, finally snapping your seat belt in place. You let your head fall back and stare blankly at the car's roof. "Can you tell me exactly what just happened? Because I think I'm still too drunk to actually process."

Jane makes an ugly sound that's probably somewhere between choking and laughing. Great. Fantastic. This is absolutely not how you'd planned your evening and night to go.

"The Madore family's been linked to some pretty shady stuff for the past few years," he starts explaining. You vaguely notice that this is the first time he refuses to tear his eyes off the road while driving. You don't comment on it.

"James isn't so keen on following in his brothers' and father's footsteps. He's been trying to distance himself from the family business for a while now."

"Yeah, okay, makes sense that his family would seem like god damn flies in a soup then." Jane chuckles and continues.

"Exactly. They're trying everything to make sure James keeps the family business going, but he keeps sneaking right past them every other time. Like when he was spotted with a 'guy friend' at a bar last week."

You snort. "It's a dude in his twenties going to a bar with a friend, wha—," I cut myself off when I turn to look at Jane. While he's got half of a smirk plastered on his face, he looks... almost sad? Apologetic? "Oh.That kind of guy friend. The kind of guy friend who makes a man turn down a drunk girl propositioning him."

Jane laughs out loud and throws his head back. Your mind goes blank for a second; the column of his neck when he laughs is... You shake your head and shudder. Not entirely sure you like where you mind is wandering right now.

"Right, exactly. James hasn't been able to get a single minute to himself since that photographer caught them. Those pictures haven't been made public either, so you can guess what happened to the one who saw them." You make a face; yes, you can guess, and you would much rather not. "It's James' boyfriend who send me an email a few days ago to try and find out why he hasn't heard from James since their last date."

You make a sour face. The boyfriend has no idea, then? Who James Madore is? Did James lie about who he is? Or did it just never come up in conversation?

"Wait." You grab Jane's right arm in sudden realization. You don't mean to stun him the way you do but the way it makes him look at you makes your mouth go dry. The words get stuck in your throat. He's quick to look back at the road ahead.

"Yes?"

"I—you had asked me to—I never got him? To come back with us?" You're starting to think that maybe you aren't as drunk as you think and maybe there's something else entirely wrong with you. Your hand is still wrapped around Jane's elbow. You try desperately not to notice how his arm feels deceptively muscular.

"I didn’t, actually," he replies with a smirk. It almost makes you want to scream. “But don’t worry about it. I got what I needed from watching you.”

Oh come on, there has to have been a better way to word that. You can feel heat scorching your cheeks and neck. That's just not fair. You take your hand back like the contact with him burned you.

It probably did.

"Okay, so, what now then?" There has to be something else to be done after this, right? It can't just end with a single night of pseudo-investigation and being chased out by an angry mob family because you tried to touch their son's face after having answering a particularly sensitive question, right?

Jane shrugs like doesn't care. "I have some ideas, but it's not something you need to bother yourself with."

You let out an indignant scoff; all of this so you don't need to bother yourself with the end result?

"Beg your pardon, but what the fuck?"

"Language," Jane gasps, putting a hand to his chest in mock offence. When he turns to look at you and notices that your face still clearly displays shock and anger, he makes quick work of backtracking.

"I'm sorry, what I meant to say is that I have a backdoor for James if he wants one. There's just a lot of questionable paperwork and people involved, so..."

"Plausible deniability, huh? How kind of you," you mutter, shifting in your seat to rest your head against the window and watch the road go by.

The rest of the drive goes by in silence.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

please comment to let me know if you’d like to be added!

@fucklife-or-me @yearningforsappho @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger

#honey and the hatchet #the mentalist #patrick jane #patrick jane x reader #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader insert #Tarot reading #pendulum reading #reader is a fortune teller #Fortune telling #Slow burn

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jerzwriter · 2 years

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A Perfect Date

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)

Rating: Teen

Category: Romance/Fluff

Summary: Wedding plans are behind them, the holidays are over, and Casey's morning sickness is finally gone. So, Tobias plans a big night out on the town for them to celebrate. Not everything goes as planned, but it ends perfectly.

Words: 985

A/N: Day 2 of @creativepromptsforwriting 's 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 3: Use the words: kitchen, date, music. Yeah, keep it under 600 words, Elsa, right... lol Also participating in @choicesjanuarychallenge Day 19 - Kitchen There is a bit of a nod to two of their past fics, Simple Moments and All I Need to Get By.

Tobias & Casey Masterlist 30-Day Challenge Masterlist

He’d been planning this evening for weeks and touted it as the “farewell to morning sickness celebration.” Casey knew Tobias loved spoiling her, so she had no reason to doubt his intentions, but she also knew how much he loved a night out on the town. And, ever since she unexpectedly found those two lines on that little stick, they managed to squeeze in an elopement and a full-fledged wedding, but nights out on the town… they weren’t happening.

Being pregnant was hard enough, but planning those events, working, and puking seemed to define her days for the last four and a half months. Date nights had been reduced to snoring on the couch as Tobias read a book or rubbed her sore feet. So, tonight was a special event.

“I decided to get us a limo. We deserve it.”

She could hear the excitement in his voice on the other end of the call.

“Tobias,” she giggled, “it’s like the prom all over again.”

“Good! Because I totally would have taken you to the prom.”

“Mmm. Just to get me out of my dress after?”

“I mean, that would have been part of it!” He snickered. “But mostly, I’d just want to be with you and show you off. That’s what I’m going to do tonight. Maybe I should get you a corsage?”

“T! No! You’re spoiling me enough already.”

“I love you, and you’re having our child. There is no 'enough' when it comes to spoiling you. It's been a long time since we’ve had a night like this. I’m pulling out all the stops.”

He told her to dress up, and dinner was at Sorellina’s. The rest would be a surprise. But while he was planning a date to remember, the pre-show was all hers.

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she slipped on her diamond earrings, happy with what she saw. The black silk dress she bought for the occasion showed off her every curve. It took her some time to make peace with her fuller shape and rounded belly, but now, she loved the way she looked. Tobias had from the start, and she couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw her.

Now that she was ready, it was time to set the mood downstairs. She dimmed the lights, lit his favorite scented candles, and placed the champagne on ice. He had sworn off drinking while she was pregnant, but tonight, she would insist. To complete the ambiance, she put on some soft jazz and waited for him on the couch. The butterflies in her belly made it feel just like prom night!

Tobias left work early, eager to get home. After dinner at their favorite fancy restaurant, they had tickets to see Hamilton. He meant it when he said he couldn't do enough for her. Afterward, they would enjoy dessert at a cozy rooftop cafe, and if she was up for it, some dancing too. He smiled as he slipped his key into the front door; this would be a night to remember.

His smile grew wider once he stepped inside and saw all the special touches Casey had created, a reminder of just how lucky he was. There was only one thing missing, the very thing he wanted to see most … her.

“Case?” he called out.

When she didn't answer, he assumed she was upstairs, exactly where he was heading to get ready. He was about to run up when something stopped him in his tracks. There she was—sprawled out across their couch—sound asleep. His face fell but morphed into a small smile.

He continued upstairs, descending minutes later wearing his finest Hopkins t-shirt and sweat pants, Casey's favorite plush blanket under his arm. He tucked it around her, then slipped beside her on the couch. A copy of The New Dad’s Playbook was in one hand, as the other lay gently on Casey’s baby bump.

Two hours passed, and Tobias was now snoozing, too. That’s when Casey woke up with a startle.

“Tobias!” she blurted, anxiously shaking him awake. “Get up, get… what time is it? Why aren’t you dressed? Did we miss our reservation?”

“Sssshhhh,” he whispered, taking her in his arms. “Calm down, baby. You were out like a light when I got home. If you’re that tired, this is where we stay. We can go out another night.”

“But Tobias,” she frowned. “You were looking forward to it and put so much work into making tonight perfect! I’m so sorry!”

“Tonight is perfect,” he smiled. “It’s perfect because I’m with you.”

Casey slipped under his arm, remembering every reason she fell in love with this man.

“Still, if you had woken me, maybe we could have salvaged some of the night.”

“Well, there is one thing,” he said, standing up and extending his hand. “Come with me.”

Casey rose to her feet. “Where are we going?”

“Dancing.”

“Where?” she giggled.

“Where we’ve shared some of our best dances… the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?” She laughed.

He turned to her with a grin and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you telling me you don’t remember them?”

“Oh no,” she smiled, looping her arms behind his neck. “I remember every single one. Motown in the kitchen is sort of our thing.”

“It sure is,” he smiled. “So what do you say? Marvin? Smokey? Stevie?”

“Mmmm. You pick.”

Tobias took out his phone and put on Marvin’s “All I Need to Get By” as a smile crossed his wife’s lips.

“This kitchen’s seen that song before,” she grinned.

“This kitchen’s seen a lot,” he winked. “And tonight, it’s seeing another perfect date.”

“Perfect?” she asked.

“Like the song says, you’re all I need.”

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ollieofthebeholder · 1 year

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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 45: February 2017

Martin opened the door to Jon’s office cautiously and found him pushing the tape recorder to one side, staring at something on his desk. He looked…worried wasn’t exactly the word. Martin couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Hey,” he said carefully.

“Oh—Martin.” Jon looked up, startled. “Is, ah, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just ten minutes past closing time is all.”

“Oh. I…I hadn’t realized it was so late.” Jon glanced at his laptop and rubbed his face. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you at the bookshop.”

Martin felt a little prick of worry nag at him. It was Tuesday—they didn’t normally meet on Tuesdays—although he guessed Jon probably realized Martin and Gerry would be worried about Melanie and might need the distraction. More than that, Jon seemed off. Something was upsetting him. “Jon, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired is all.” Jon gestured to the mess spread across his desk, which was becoming more and more typical for him these days as he stopped caring if the team saw him as “professional” and eased towards comfortable; he always put things away neatly when he was finished, but he saw no point in wasting time on organizing things he was just going to pull apart and shuffle through anyway. Martin couldn’t imagine how he was able to work like that, but then, the Mark Jon had from the Spiral was vastly different from Martin’s in every conceivable way. “I’ve only got one or two little things to finish up.”

“Do you want me to wait for you, then?”

“No—no, I’ll be all right. This won’t take long, and then I’ll be there. Safer this way.” Jon managed a smile that almost reached his eyes and made something in Martin’s chest dance a little. “I’ll call you when I leave.”

“All right,” Martin said guardedly. Jon was hiding something. He’d probably been digging into one of the tapes on his own and was trying, in his own way, to keep it from Martin, which almost certainly meant it was something to do with the Buried; of all the Marks Martin had, that one was the deepest besides the Eye, and Jon was even more militant than Melanie and Gerry about protecting Martin from it. It was oddly sweet. “Just…be careful, all right? We’ll see you soon.”

“I will. No more than an hour,” Jon promised. “And I will call if it’s going to be longer. Not text.”

At that, Martin couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. See you later then.”

He withdrew from the office and returned to the cluster of desks where the assistants sat. “Dinner? I’ve just got to stop and pick up a book I have on reserve first. Neens said it came in this morning.”

“As long as it’s not takeaway. I am not setting foot in a restaurant today,” Sasha said with a mock-frown. In response to Martin’s raised eyebrow, she added, “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Ugh.” Martin wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Lost track of the date.”

Tim looked back and forth between the two of them, something slightly guilty in his eyes. “You’re not fans of the holiday?”

“An entire day where every store, restaurant, and advertisement for weeks on end proclaims that you’re only worthwhile if you’re in a romantic relationship and there’s clearly something wrong with you if you’re not whilst also creating obligations on the people who are to make big, elaborate, public showings that they’re better at it than everyone else, at the same time setting up the potential for situations where at least one party ends up embarrassed at best and actively endangered at worst? Of course I’m a fan, what’s not to like?” Sasha deadpanned. She stuffed her laptop into its case. “Amatonormativity is a hell of a drug. Do you have plans for the evening, or are you coming with us?”

Martin couldn’t resist adding, “Or do your plans for the evening involve a certain bookseller?”

It probably should not have been as satisfying as it was that Martin was able to make Tim blush quite that hard, but he chalked up the win in his mental tally book anyway. “I—we didn’t—no. I don’t have…plans.”

“Intentions maybe?” Sasha teased. “Does Martin need to give you the Shovel Talk?”

“I am not the person you need to be afraid of if you hurt him.” Martin considered. “Or at least not the main one. Anyway, are you coming over, or do I have to critique his soppy lovesick poetry that owes more to Tennyson than Ginsberg, however much he wants to insist otherwise?”

Tim’s face was burning so much it was a wonder he didn’t set off the fire suppressant system. “Tell you what. I drove in today, so why don’t we all go together so I’m not tempted to drive to Malaysia?”

“Can you even drive to Malaysia?” Sasha wondered. “Like, are there enough connecting roads between here and there that you could make the journey by car?”

The debate that followed was pointless and silly and reminiscent of the ones Martin frequently had with his brother and sister, which somehow made Martin both miss Melanie a little less and miss her a little more. There was an unusual amount of traffic on the road for a Tuesday, or so it seemed, so it took them a little longer than normal to make the drive to Cinnamon Rose Books, but they finally made it. Martin largely tuned out the debate on whether they’d have got there faster if they’d taken the Underground and started for the door. Before he even reached it, Gerry opened it with a smile and his arms out for a hug.

“Had a feeling you’d be coming by today,” he said. “Neenie told you she was going out of town, right?”

“Yeah, but not where exactly. Just that she had some research to chase down.” Martin chewed his lip briefly as he eased out of the hug. “I probably should have gone with her, but…”

“Without knowing where, that’d be difficult,” Gerry completed. “And probably pricey. She’ll be okay, Mart, if it was dangerous she’d have brought someone along, even if it was Jon.” He paused briefly as he glanced at Tim and Sasha. “Come to think of it, did he go with her? I notice he didn’t come with you. Hey,” he added, taking Tim’s hand and bowing low over it to bestow a kiss on the back of it.

“Hey,” Tim said, sounding flustered but pleased. “Uh, you didn’t—is Jon going out of town?”

“No, he’ll be along, he just had some things to finish up,” Martin said. “He was the one who suggested we come over in the first place.”

“Probably wants to tell us what Melanie’s up to,” Sasha said, edging into the shop. “She was in his office talking to him before she left. Bet she made a statement about whatever it was.”

Martin recontextualized Jon’s behavior in light of that information and suppressed a sigh. Melanie was definitely doing something she shouldn’t be doing on her own.

Sasha offered to cook, and Martin volunteered to help her, knowing that if he sat still he’d fret himself to the moon. Following her directions helped soothe some, not all, of his anxiety. He couldn’t even really explain why he was anxious, except that he was on tenterhooks waiting for Jon to get there so he could find out what Melanie was up to.

“It’ll have to cook for half an hour, so that’ll give Jon time to get here,” Sasha said at last, taking the dish from him and sliding it into the ocean.

Martin glanced at his phone and did a double-take. All his worries came back in a rush. “We’ve been here almost an hour already.”

“Yeah?” Sasha frowned at him.

“Shit…Jon said he’d call when he was on his way, or if he was going to get held up.” Martin chewed his lip for a moment in indecision, then pulled up his contacts and dialed Jon. The call went straight to voice mail.

“His phone probably died,” Tim said, evidently reading Martin’s worry on his face. “You know how he gets, he forgets to plug it in half the time and he’s always surprised by how little battery he has left. He’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Martin said softly. He glanced at Gerry. “I just…hope you’re wrong.”

“If he told you he was coming, he’s coming,” Gerry assured him with a squeeze of his shoulder. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, brother mine. He wouldn’t go out of town without telling you he was going.”

Martin felt a blush rising in his cheeks. Sasha bumped him with her hip and a teasing grin. “He’s right. If there’s one of us Jon would never lie to, it would be you. And not just because you can read his mind.”

“I can’t—Christ, Sasha!” Martin buried his face in his hands, or started to. As he did, he caught sight of an unexpected object on the kitchen counter—a tape recorder. Distracted momentarily, he reached for it. “Ger, is this yours?”

“Is what mine?” Gerry frowned at the recorder. “No, I’ve got a boom box for my tapes. I don’t record. Did one of you bring that?”

“I thought we only had the two,” Tim said. “The official one Jon uses for statements and the one you’ve been using.”

“Yeah, and this isn’t one of them. Huh, weird. Maybe Umberto found it somewhere.” Martin looked inside. There was a tape, set all the way back at the beginning, which probably meant it was blank. Just to be certain, he pressed PLAY.

To his surprise, Jon’s voice came out of the device, sounding incredibly shaken. “I…er…we…we didn’t—“ He broke off for a moment, then came back slightly stronger. “Statement of Lawrence Moore. Regarding something that was not his cousin. Original statement given twelfth June, 2001.”

Ice water flooded Martin’s veins. It wasn’t just the weirdness of the tape being there, since none of them had brought it. It was also the statement itself. It was clearly a Stranger statement, and dimly, he was aware of Gerry stepping silently over to wrap his arms around Tim from behind, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the recorder. The thing described in the statement was so clearly the same thing described in Amy Patel’s statement, the thing that was not her friend Graham…something proved at the end when the old man showed up with a table exactly matching the description of the one in Artifact Storage, and coalesced into horrid certainty when two men who were almost certainly Breekon and Hope carted it away.

“Statement ends,” Jon’s voice said, and it was only when he heard the way it shook that it occurred to Martin he had read the entire statement calmly and without undue emotion. “I found this in the folder marked 9910602, where Gertrude’s tape had indicated I would find the statement of Dekker himself. There is nothing else in there, but I think it tells me what I need to know. This thing, it’s tied to the table, it—“ There was what sounded like a sniff. “I found a tape. It, I was actually looking for a blank one to record this, and…and I…”

He broke off, and there was the sound of another tape recorder starting up before a wholly unfamiliar voice spoke. “—don’t see how you can stand it down there.”

The voice that responded made Martin gasp—it was his own. “Oh, come on, it’s not so bad.”

“Maybe under the old Archivist, but that…stuck-up prig…”

“C’mon, Rosie, be fair.”

Rosie? Martin’s eyes widened. He remembered that conversation now—in his own memory, they’d both been laughing, it had been a joke, but that woman sounded so…so vicious…

“What,” Sasha said slowly, “the fuck is this?”

“That can’t be Rosie,” Tim said, shaking his head. “That didn’t sound anything like Rosie…”

Gerry suddenly inhaled sharply. Martin met his eyes—and suddenly understood. “The table. The fucking table. She went and looked at it, o-or something, and that, that thing, it got her…”

“It was after you,” Gerry said, looking at Sasha, who went ashen. “The night of the attack—you said the table was in Artifact Storage? That’s what it was, it had to have been. If you’d gone in that room, it would have been you it killed and took the place of, but—”

“Wait,” Tim interrupted, suddenly pulling away from Gerry’s arms. “What was that statement number he found this one in?”

“9910602,” Martin said, and then felt the blood drain from his face. “That’s the one he went looking for today. He just recorded this tape today?”

“How is it on your kitchen counter?” Sasha asked Gerry.

Gerry shrugged helplessly. “Beats the hell out of me. More to the point, why is it on my kitchen counter?”

“So we’d listen to it?” Tim suggested.

Martin gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “Oh, God. Oh, God, that’s what Jon was staying for. He’s going to—we have to stop him.”

“Come on, I’ll drive.” Tim grabbed his keys, but Martin was already halfway out the door. He could hear Sasha and Tim arguing behind him.

“As long as it took us to get here—”

“It’s past rush hour, we’ll be fine.”

“We don’t have time, we have to get there as fast as possible.”

“But to take the Tube, we’d have to change trains…”

“If you two don’t hurry up, Martin is going to run the whole way there and beat you both,” Gerry said, a bit dryly.

Martin was barely listening. God only knew what Jon was planning, if Jon had an actual plan, but they couldn’t leave him to do it alone. He’d get hurt, or worse…

He was just turning for the nearby Tube stop, Tim and Sasha be damned, when Jon suddenly burst through the entrance at a run. He didn’t slow down, just flew straight down the sidewalk and into Martin’s arms.

Martin gave a startled oomph and pulled Jon close on instinct. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and he was shaking and gasping for air. There was a prickle of static behind Martin’s eyes, and when he realized what it was, he squeezed his eyes shut and hoped. If Jon had confronted the…what had he called it? The Not-Rosie…if he’d confronted it, what if it had killed him and taken his place?

No, he told himself. He’d recognized Jon’s voice on the recording—he wouldn’t have recognized it if Jon had been…had been changed. It would have been an unfamiliar voice like the one that purported to be Rosie’s…

“Jon, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said instead.

“It’s not,” Jon choked out, and Martin could breathe easier. It was Jon, the voices still matched. Whatever had happened, Jon was still himself…terrified out of his mind, but himself.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Tim demanded. He sounded angry, but Martin knew him well enough by now to know that he was scared, and when he got scared he got angry. “And how did that fucking tape get to the bookstore?”

The words fell from Jon’s lips in a panicked, incoherent rush. Martin caught “Michael” and “tunnels” and “blood” and “sorry”—rather a lot of “sorry”, actually—but they didn’t add up to a coherent picture. Understanding was not improved by the fact that Jon was still trying to catch his breath, or the fact that his face was half-buried in Martin’s chest.

“J-Jon. Jon.” Martin finally broke into the rambling. He took Jon’s face in his hands as gently as he could, cradling his chin and guiding him to look up at him. “We’re here, we’ve got you. Take a breath and tell me what happened.”

Jon placed his hands over Martin’s, but he didn’t pull them away—just held them, tentatively, like he was afraid of being pushed away or worse. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and when he spoke, he still sounded scared and upset, but at least he was articulate. “It was something Melanie said—before she left, she asked me who the woman at the front desk was that had called to say she was coming that first time, and she seemed so sure of what she remembered, but it was Rosie who called. One of the tapes Basira brought said changeling on the front, so I listened, and…and I followed leads, and I eventually realized that, that the thing, the Not-Them, had taken Rosie’s place, and that it was…I thought it was tied to the table. I took an axe up to Artifact Storage and I destroyed it—I was so sure it would at least hurt it—but Michael, the Distortion, i-it showed up and told me…” He flinched and broke off, closing his eyes. “It got me away, i-it threw me a door, but I was in the tunnels, I was trying to get away, and the Not-Rosie was after me…God, the things it was saying, I don’t—”

“You don’t have to tell us,” Martin said quickly. It was only partly because of how visibly distressed Jon was; it was also because he could feel the prickle of desire under his skin and he refused, refused, to feed the Eye with Jon’s trauma, not when he was still raw and vulnerable. “We can…you can tell us later, if you want. But you got away? Is it still down there?”

“M-maybe. I don’t know. It’s trapped. There was—the voice we heard, i-it was…an old man, he said we needed to talk. He was…going to explain a few things. He’d started, and I just—I needed a moment, I needed a break, i-it was too much.” Tears welled up in Jon’s eyes again, and Martin couldn’t stop himself from swiping one away with his thumb. “I went out for a cigarette, and when I came back…he was dead. There was, there was so much blood—a-and a pipe, someone…someone came in while I was out and beat him to death.”

Martin’s blood ran cold again. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped Jon in a tight hug; Jon clung to him like a drowning man. Tim and Sasha joined the hug, hesitantly; Gerry managed to put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, making him flinch, but his head flicked back and forth along the street. “You think whoever did it is following you?”

“No—oh, God, I never thought of that.” Jon tensed. “I should—whoever it was had gone by the time I got back, but—”

“If they were going to kill you too, they’d have waited,” Tim muttered. “Great. Another dead body in the tunnels.”

“I-it wasn’t—we’d come up into the Archives,” Jon said. “It was…my office, I…”

“Your office?” Sasha repeated. “Wasn’t Gertrude’s blood all over the desk in her office too? God, we’ve got to get back there and clean this up before someone else finds it or the police are going to get involved and you’re going to be on the hook for it.”

“Sasha!” Tim and Martin exclaimed in unison.

Jon inhaled sharply and pushed away from Martin. As much as Martin didn’t want to, he eased back, and the others did the same. “No, she’s right, I—I can’t, what am I going to tell them? They’re going to know I was in the building after hours, and what if there’s CCTV footage in Artifact Storage? I’m, they’re going to—”

“There’s got to be footage of whoever did it going down there,” Tim said, sounding uncertain. “Unless they came in through the outer door.”

“Either way, seems you’ve got two choices,” Gerry said. “Either make it really obvious where you are, wait for the police to catch up to you, and hope they buy the truth despite the fact that you’ve got the old man’s blood on your shoes”—Jon flinched as he looked down at his feet—“or lay low for a few days until they figure out who actually did it. You’re going to be a suspect either way, and I’ve got a feeling the cops aren’t going to be particularly interested in the truth. They want the fastest solution they can make stick.”

“There shouldn’t be anyone else at the Institute this late,” Tim said. “If the three of us can’t get in early enough tomorrow to take care of things before anyone notices…maybe we can at least spin a good enough story that the cops don’t look at you. Or think it was self-defense or something. I mean, we had an intruder in the Archives once before, right?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Martin promised. “It’s going to be okay, Jon.”

“You can stay at the shop for a few days,” Gerry offered. “I’ve got it warded, and I’ll be there, so—”

“No,” Martin, Tim, and Sasha said in unison. It was hard to say who looked more startled, Gerry or Jon.

Martin tried to keep his voice calm as he elaborated. “It’s too dangerous. Remember, that was where Basira and Detective Tonner came to interview us after…they knew we were staying there.”

Tim nodded. “That’s like the third place they’d go to look for you. You could, I don’t know, hide in my closet or something, but…”

“No,” Sasha said. “You can’t hide with any of us. It’s…honestly, it’s best none of us know where you’re holing up. We can figure out a way to get in touch with you when it’s safe, but in the meantime, what we don’t know, we can’t accidentally reveal or have dragged out of us or whatever.”

Martin did not want to agree with her. He did not want to let Jon go on the run on his own. He’d like to think he was strong enough to resist anything. But at the same time…he knew he wasn’t. Mundane interrogations, certainly. But if someone with the power of one of the Fourteen tried?

“She’s right,” he said reluctantly. “It’s…it’s safer.”

“I know,” Jon practically whispered. “I don’t…I won’t put any of you in danger. I—I need to find somewhere else. I’ll be in touch if I can, but…” He choked slightly and looked away.

Gerry nodded slowly. He looped an arm through Tim’s and nudged Sasha’s shoulder, pointing her back in the direction of the bookshop. To Martin, he said quietly, “Ten minutes.”

Before Martin could come up with an appropriate response to that—or even manage a what?—Gerry, Tim, and Sasha were gone, leaving him and Jon alone on the sidewalk, staring at one another.

Ten minutes wasn’t a lot of time, but Martin understood why Gerry had set that as the limit. Much more and they would be running the risk of being caught. It was enough of a risk that everyone knew Jon and Martin were getting close—even if Tim and Sasha kept silent about that, someone upstairs would mention it sooner or later and he’d be in for a heavy round of interrogation, or worse. If they stood here too long, he’d have the police on him before Jon even had a chance to get somewhere safe. It wasn’t forever—it couldn’t be forever—but they still weren’t going to see each other for who knew how long, and they only had ten minutes to say whatever they were going to say at this point. It would have to be enough.

Jon spoke first, his voice low and shaking. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Jon.” Martin held out his hands, not knowing what else to do and hoping Jon would take them. “We were on our way back to the Institute to find you. The tape you recorded…ended up here somehow. I don’t understand, but…i-if you hadn’t come, we’d have come to you. Or found the mess and no you, and I’d have torn London apart trying to find you. You came because you needed to.”

Jon reached out hesitantly, then bypassed Martin’s hands and hugged him tightly. Martin could feel him shaking and wrapped him up in as tight a hug as he could without hurting him.

“I wish you could come,” Jon whispered, the words once again muffled by Martin’s jumper. “It’s so much easier to feel brave when you’re there.”

Martin closed his eyes for a moment. He wished he could go, too. He didn’t want to let Jon out of his sight, not when he was so vulnerable, not when he was in all kinds of danger. The temptation to say screw it and run off to Ireland or Scotland or France was almost overwhelming. The only thing that held him back was the knowledge that he was just as tempting a target for agents of the Fourteen as Jon was, if not more; the two of them together would lead anyone coming after Jon straight to them. But goddamn, he just wanted Jon to be okay.

The feeling that had been building up slowly, like a rolling wave on a stormy ocean, since the moment over a year ago when Jon had brought him a mug of tea and quietly said I’m sorry about your brother, reached a crest and crashed down on Martin with a force that nearly drove him to his knees. He’d known his friendship with Jon didn’t feel quite the same as the one he had with Tim and Sasha, or the one he had with Gerry and Melanie, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on exactly why.

Now he knew. It wasn’t only a friendship. Yes, he considered Jon a friend—one of his best friends—but he was also in love with him.

He would have to take the time to sort that out later. He certainly couldn’t tell Jon now—this wasn’t the time to shoot his shot. Anyway, he really needed to understand what he meant by that, what it meant for them if he did say something. Maybe he would talk it over with Gerry later, get some outside perspective.

For now…

“Be careful, Jon,” he said quietly. “Please. I need you to be okay.”

“And you.” Jon’s voice was choked. “I-it’s not just—don’t ever forget how many people care about you. How many people need you.”

He clung to Martin a moment longer, then eased back—reluctantly, it seemed to Martin. Martin was equally reluctant, if not more so, to let go of Jon, but he knew he had no choice. “Stay safe.”

“You, too.” Jon looked up at Martin for a long second, then turned and fled back into the station.

Martin stood where he was for several minutes, staring at the spot where Jon had vanished and reminding himself of all the reasons, very good reasons, not to chase Jon down and go with him to wherever he was going, or just…know where he was.

Then, slowly, feeling about a million years old, he turned and made his way back to the bookshop.

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic #tma #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #gerard keay #unreality #blood mention #death mention #slight (unintentional) misuse of beholding powers #gratuitous flirting

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fighterkimburgess · 2 years

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Life In The Fast Lane Chapter 1: Bahrain

Summary: Kim finds out a closely guarded secret about her brother, but more gossip about her relationships doesn’t help even though Adam does well. Masterlist

Words: 4k

Warnings: Bob Ruzek’s A+ Parenting, mentions of child neglect and emotional abuse.

There’s an authors note with definitions at the end.

—

The winter break hadn’t been nearly long enough as far as Kim was concerned. They’d spent Christmas together in Monaco, going over to Sarah and Crockett’s to see what Pere Noel had brought Lolly for the holiday. Sarah had surprised them with mistletoe as they walked into the apartment, Adam kissing Kim with a wry smile. Lolly was found surrounded by gifts from Santa, her very favourite a hot sauce gift set that she refused to let go of. Kim and Adam - mostly Adam if Kim was honest - had gotten her a go kart to use while they travelled and seeing the bigger car made the girl light up. At first she put it at the front of the line of toy cars surrounding her. Once Adam showed her the blue and red helmet to match his own and the grey race suit she understood exactly what she could do, sitting into the vehicle.

The next afternoon involved the four adults driving out to a karting track in Eze. Lolly copied Adam’s every movement as they raced on the tiny vehicles. It was an immediate hit as a present, even while Sarah cringed watching her barely bigger than a toddler child drive at thirty miles an hour.

They’d even gotten to go on vacation for a week together. Adam had organised a jet to bring them to the Caribbean so they could wander around the Guadeloupe Islands together hand in hand. His off season beard meant he wasn’t recognised and they got to act like any two tourists. The only photos posted on Instagram were from when they got back. Kim wasn’t visible in anything on his profile, and he was missing from hers. They were rested and relaxed, ready for the next season even if she could have done with more time off.

When preseason testing rolled around she was working with both Plouch and VR depending on the session, she and Kevin running between places like bats out of hell. She worked with Roman, getting his timings right and praying he didn’t hit someone else or spin off into a run off, then go to Adam who was getting to grips with a new car and wheel. The internal systems were completely different for them which made it a fun challenge. Kim would dip into the bathroom to change her shirt as she moved between the garages. From there she raised the vacated pit wall seat up, sat down, and plugged in the new headset to find out what was going on.

In between testing in Barcelona and Bahrain Kim officially moved into Adam’s apartment. It was a risk they were willing to take to live together fully. She had to give Trudy her new address, walking into the principal’s office and handing over the form. Trudy looked at the address with a slowly raising eyebrow before staring up at Kim.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m just moving, Trudy. Nothing else is changing in my life.

It was so hard to keep everything mostly to herself. Every week more gossip accounts appeared on Instagram and TikTok. They posted about the drivers and their personal lives, comparing wives and girlfriends and making Kim feel weird. A photo of Kelly Severide and rookie Stella Kidd kissing on vacation in Italy went viral, even outside the F1 bubble. Part of her was jealous. She wished she could have shared the photo of Adam kissing her cheek from their vacation even on her close friends Insta story. But the other part of her was glad that it was private and that the media couldn’t get involved any more in her life. She’d seen the media frenzy that Roman’s last girlfriend had to deal with. Jenn had left him because he wouldn’t commit and there were photos of him kissing women at parties and it ended up slapped all over the internet. Plus the mayhem that occurred when people thought Lolly was Adam’s child was enough to make her never want it.

The day before they were due to fly to Bahrain for the first race of the year she was in a cafe in Monaco. March fog had cleared to a warm day as she took an outdoor table. Kim never felt truly cold now that the majority of her home life was almost entirely based around the Mediterranean Sea. There were no more minus 40 days that made her miss her rural Illinois home. The second chair at her table was pulled out as Mouse sat down, graceful as his gangly legs would let him.

“Penny for them?” He asked as Kim shook her head.

“Stuff and things. Whether going public is a good idea or the worst thing we could possibly do?” She semi asked before taking a sip of the fruit tea in front of her.

“Can you keep a secret?” Kim nodded while she watched the older man’s slim fingers fidget with the air in front of him. “I know exactly what you’re going through. But it’s been five years.”

“You’re not making sense. Since what?”

“It’s five years since Jay and I started sleeping together and we’ve been dating for the last four and a half. So if anybody in this bubble we live in gets it, I do. He’s telling Adam today, that’s why I’m telling you. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.”

“Is it worth it?” Kim asked after a few moments. Mouse nodded before the full question was out.

“So worth it. He can’t come out. Not while he’s driving. And we couldn’t tell Antonio because it’s not like Dawson can keep a secret. We agreed that before he retires he’ll come out to make it easier for the younger kids. If a certain someone doesn’t decide to come out before he does.” The nod between them was enough to know that they both understood before he continued. “Mom and Will both know about us but that’s it. I told Jay I wanted to tell you but not why. I think he thinks it’s cause you’re basically my sister. And being able to tell Adam and trust him with something will help Jay too.”

“Thanks for telling me.” It was a comfortable silence for a few moments, the ambience only broken by the roar of a super car going past. “How have you kept it so quiet?”

“Hailey was his beard for a year.” Kim’s near cackle shattered the quiet between them, looking curiously at her brother as she regained her composure.

“Upton? His PR person? How did you end up roping her into that?”

“Her girlfriend does PR for Goat, she’s their Head of Comms. They didn’t want people knowing they were together and dealing with the cross team worries until they were serious. They pretended to date, did some red carpet events, went to the FIA gala together. It worked for both of them, what else was he supposed to do?”

“Ok, point taken.” She smiled and finished the last sips of her drink. “We should get together for dinner in Bahrain. It’d be nice to spend some time as a couple with people who aren’t Sarah and Crockett. I love them, but it’s our routine and there’s only so many times you can do it. When are you flying out?”

“Tomorrow. We’re on the same jet as the two of you, Jay wants some extra days to adjust to the lack of humidity. I agreed as long as I have an air conditioned dark room to play video games in with snacks and candy. We can do a room service dinner?”

“Perfect. You can see my mayhem for trying to learn your software.” Kim tried making it a joke but Mouse squeezed her hand.

“When we’re on the plane I’ll go over how it works. I know you and Adam have your own shorthand, but the software is very different to Plouch. Believe me, I helped write the code for yours as Mom’s Christmas present one year. I’ll give you the head start before we get to the track.”

“You are amazing. Dinner when we land tomorrow?”

“Deal, but none of us will be human after the flight.”

The apartment was empty when Kim made it home, Adam out for a job to enjoy the last of their time at home before the chaos began anew. The meal plan that his trainer, Dante, had made up was stuck to their fridge with a magnet and tonight’s meal was chicken and chorizo pasta bake. The food was in the oven and Kim was wiping down their countertops when the front door opened. Heavy thuds paced down the wooden floor into the kitchen.

“Honey, I’m home!” Kim turned to see Adam dripping with sweat and smiling, reaching for a quick kiss to greet him.

“Dinner’s in fifteen. Go shower, you stink.”

“Want to shower with me?” He wiggled his eyebrows but Kim just laughed and shook her head.

“Showering with you means my cooking was pointless, it’ll burn. Go get ready.” He stuck his tongue out at her before turning to go to the shower, Kim calling after his retreating back. “Mouse told me what Jay said to you by the way!”

Over dinner they had the conversation about just how worrying it was to know about Jay and Mouse. Voight wouldn’t drop the driver. He put the team above all else and Jay was their best chance at a championship. But it was still something the media could use against them. Drivers private lives couldn’t be private. Kim still remembered the moment the year before when she walked in on Darren Ritter in a compromising position, not that she cared. But his team would if it brought bad publicity or meant they lost sponsors. Plus being gay was illegal in some of the countries they travelled to.

All things considered the flight to Bahrain was as relaxed as it could be. A car service picked them up from the apartment building and drove them straight to Nice International. It was through passport control in a few minutes and then onto a private jet where Kim relaxed in awe at the plush leather interior. The flight to the Gulf nation took six hours. Half of it was spent with Mouse learning how to use the software VR used for data and transmission. The other half was spent curled up with Adam watching a movie. Those moments when travelling were so rare. Kim was normally in premium economy with Sarah, Crockett, and Lolly so here she took full advantage.

Once they landed and had their passports stamped it was easy to get to the hotel they were staying in. Officially they were all paying for their own rooms until the rest of the team arrived on Wednesday, so they could stick to the two drivers rooms only. It was three days of bliss for Kim and Adam. They got to relax until it was time to prepare for Shakir and the blistering heat that awaited them, having dinner with their friends.

She’d prepped at this track twice before and it wasn’t anything new, but her place in the team was new. Where Plouch was run on a shoestring - sponsorships hard to come by for the team that was barely making ends meet - VR had everything she could imagine. She didn’t need to do the pit wall setup, and her headset was there waiting at her place. Even the clothing quality was better. The shirt she wore was completely cotton and light in the desert heat. With her hair pulled back and the headset on she finally felt like people would respect her more than they previously had in the sport.

Thursday went as well as could be expected. Mouse showed her how to set up for the best view and how he organised his notes. She had her own system anyway but was able to blend the two to optimise. The strategy sessions she’d been in had blown her mind. It wasn’t just her and Kevin trying to come up with strategy and tyre degradation ideas, but there was a team analysing data from previous races to give them more information. Everyone’s contributions were listened to and respected. The rush was nearly intoxicating.

She barely saw Adam on Thursday. The day had been spent in press and a GPDA meeting, and the night involved sponsor events and wining and dining the sponsors. He arrived back to the room in fully branded clothing, shaking his head and wrapping her up in his arms for a cuddle and sleep. But Friday was where everything was really going to count.

As soon as Kim watched Adam drive out of the garage on Friday she knew just how good the team move had been for him. The engine purred as he started his run, twenty cars filing out onto the track in unison.

“Plan A?” He asked over the radio.

“Plan A. Keep an eye out, once you finish your out lap you’ll have Gallo, Capp, and Scott ahead of you so it’ll be dirty air. Stick to the plan.”

“Copy.”

Kim watched the data coming in from the car sensors, the temperatures changing to the points of a degree Celsius that they’d expected and the way the car went through fuel was exactly as they thought. Everything was in the limits they’d expected and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her life. How could she not enjoy it?

The two practice sessions went by in the blink of an eye, Kim focusing on Adam’s data and where he could shave tenths off his lap times. He’d found almost the perfect racing line and they’d spent time on getting his lines right. Once she got him into clean air during qualifying it would be a sight to behold.

Saturday was a complete blur for her, but with Kim on the radio Adam made it to P3 for his best ever qualifying result. Third place, less than a hundredth of a second away from the front row. Jay was first, and Kelly Severide had made it to P2. Filling out Adam’s row was Ethan Choi. Once the weigh ins and interviews were done Kim watched as the drivers said congratulations to Adam, fans cheering at the sight. It was a cute scene to see.

After the debrief and discussions were over Kim was finally able to leave, exhaustion seeping out of every single one of her pores. The only things she wanted were a hot shower, room service, and bed. But coming out of the motorhome she was stopped by one of the reporters wandering the paddock.

“Kim Burgess, you’re up here with VR because they’re still working out who’s going to pair up the driver of car 21, Adam Ruzek, isn’t that right?” She put on her best media training face.

“Right now we’re seeing who Adam responds to. It’s a new car, new team, so a new engineer might be the right call to make.”

“So it’s not because Hank Voight agrees with Bob Ruzek that, and I’m quoting from Bob after he heard you and Adam speaking during FP3 today, that “Adam needs a firm hand as an engineer, he always did, and a woman isn’t going to be as harsh on him as he needs them to be to get the best out of him.”

Her hackles were raised but Kim kept that same peaceful look on her face, unwilling to give the reporter anymore than she had to.

“Bob can have his own opinions. But Adam and I worked together for more than forty races already, and I helped him get to three podiums and a win. This is a results based business so we’ll see where the results go.”

“Ruzek senior also made some allegations about your personal life, that racing isn’t a place for a woman to live her life. Do you wish to comment on it?” At that Kim fought back the blush threatening to overwhelm her.

“I don’t comment on my personal life. No offence, I think having a coffee with you would be fun, but I can’t see why the world would be interested in my life outside of helping my team win races. Evening!”

With that she waved to the camera and left for the paddock gates immediately. The turnstiles were just too far away for her liking, but she could hear the words repeated around in her head. What the hell had Bob done this time?

It didn’t take long to get on one of the shuttles back to the hotel. As soon as she reached her room she searched Twitter. It was a habit she’d broken nearly as soon as she started working in Formula One, but the verified @kimburgessrace account she had was worth it for checking things like this. Someone had tagged her in a video.

Hearing Bob talk about @kimburgessrace like this is awful. She’s a good engineer. Would he say it if @katwaterdrives was there this week?

The video was of Adam doing a slow lap as close to the racing line as possible. The familiar radio box appeared on the side of the screen.

“Adam, you’re down ten seconds on your last lap but perfect line. Keep the pace.”

“Can I go a little faster?”

“Next lap. Stick to your lines.”

“Copy.”

It moved out to a wide shot of him taking the turns, Bob and Wallace Boden commentating.

“He’s doing really well in that VR car. Still the talented driver we always knew he was, but with a car like that he can show off,” Boden said as the roar of the V6 engine was audible down the straight.

“I’d expect him to be faster. Adam needs a firm hand as an engineer, he always did, and a woman isn’t going to be as harsh on him as he needs you to be to get the best out of him. Voight needs to get Atwater in there permanently with him.”

Bob’s words weren’t unusual, but the venom he delivered them with was worse than usual. Her twitter notifications were busy and she was trending under motorsport. Most of the reactions were in her favour, people calling out Bob’s sexism. One of the videos from Adam’s karting days had started to be shared the same way it always was when Bob was an ass. The grown man was yelling at seven year old Adam after he came third in a race. From some of the stories that Adam had told her it was a normal occurrence. No matter how many years had passed any of those videos being shared always upset Adam, especially now that it was defending Kim.

Her boyfriend hadn’t spoken to his father in over a decade. Sky were under strict instructions that if Bob was the journalist in a media pool Adam would skip them, and the two times they’d sent him in he had. The FIA fines were worth it. The man was still banned from all FIA racing thanks to his race fixing. They didn’t want anything to do with him.

The weekend was full on but she still made time for dinner that Saturday night with Sarah, Crockett, and Lolly. After seeing exactly what Bob had said and the lack of formal response to it she just needed her friends. The now four year old was clingy thanks to not seeing Kim for a week, sitting on her lap as they ate.

“Food?” Lolly asked, pointing at the chicken on Kim’s plate.

“Yup, chicken and rice. Just like on your plate, except yours has hot sauce on it.” The few words Lolly was speaking now always made the adults in the room smile. Sarah and Crockett filled Kim in on the drama at the far end of the pit lane, Roman being Roman again. He’d caused a yellow flag in the second practice after hitting a barrier. Everyone had seen Trudy stalk through the paddock like a woman on a mission so they’d given her the space she needed. But Dawson was settling in ok on the team, his sister hanging out with Sarah when she wasn’t in a meeting. There was rumours Gabby was already being looked at by a couple of other teams for next year too.

Kim took a forkful from the plate in front of her, but it was immediately obvious as soon as her lips closed around the bite that she’d chosen the wrong one. None of them travelled without hot sauce for Lolly. She was a fussy eater, but dousing food in chilli usually got her to eat something. Crockett laughed at Kim’s expression, taking Lolly from her so the woman could gulp down water. She stopped eating after that, but they talked about everything except Bob Ruzek.

When she made it back to the room Kim and Adam didn’t talk about it that night, but it was clear Adam knew how uncomfortable she was about the entire situation. Instead they held onto each other as they slept before Sunday dawned and the race would begin.

Race days were always hectic and even the bigger team with more resources had that level of chaos. Kim squeezed Adam’s fingers before she left the room, determined to keep things together for him. Instead of planning on her own she sat at the strategy briefing, watching for the way Adam was to defend for Jay. If they could get a good start and time stops right there was a chance of a double podium for the team. They could do this.

And it paid off. Jay Halstead stood on the top step of the podium, Mouse to his side accepting the constructors trophy. Adam was there to Jay’s left on the second step and Kim couldn’t be filled with more love for her boyfriend as she watched him spray champagne. The Star Spangled Banner rang around the track thanks to the win, the team celebrating with their own bottles of champagne.

Usually Kim missed the celebration parties. They were normally ragers, the young wealthy drivers buying a lot of alcohol for their friends and coworkers. But this time her team had a 1-2 win and were at the top of the constructors championship. She had to turn up and show her celebration face.

It was loud and busy, hidden in a warehouse thanks to the local laws about alcohol consumption. There was dancing and she had fun, but all she wanted to do was dance with Adam and get to kiss him on the dance floor. The dart of jealousy as she saw Matt Casey’s wife, Sylvie, kiss her husband to congratulate him on third hit her chest hard. The way she saw Evan Hawkins linking hands with his girlfriend who’d flown in for the race. It was a glamorous life. It was glitzy and stylish and filled with travel and luxury. She got to live in a millionaire’s playground in Monaco.

But the loneliness hurt. Before it was easier, Adam didn’t really go to parties so they’d spend Sunday night with their friends or watching YouTube, recovering after the week. On rare occasions they’d even fly home straight after the race to get an extra night in their own beds if they were in Europe or parts of Asia. But that wouldn’t happen with Adam and Jay on the podium and Adam expected to be at these parties now.

Instead Kim took the vodka soda that Mouse offered her, eyes that were troubled with similar thoughts staring at hers. They clinked their glasses and swallowed their drinks in one before going out to the dance floor together, holding onto each other to not get lost.

AN: For those who aren’t used to Formula One, race weekends are generally over four days. Thursday is the final set up day and press day, drivers and team principals will have press conferences those days. Friday is the first driving day, there’s two practice sessions. FP1 is in the morning, FP2 is in the afternoon (usually, if it’s a night race this can change). Saturday has FP3 in the morning, and then afterwards is qualifying. Qualifying involves three sessions - Q1 is the first eighteen minutes, and the slowest five drivers are eliminated. Q2 is the next fifteen minutes, and the following slowest drivers are eliminated. Q3 is last, and that decides what order the top ten will start in. Drivers can change their starting place based on penalties if they’ve changed their cars, used parts they shouldn’t have, or have been given a penalty as a punishment for breaking a rule.

The FIA is the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile, who are the group who run most single seater motorsports in the world. They control F1.

The GPDA is the Grand Prix Drivers Association, which consists of the drivers who currently drive in Formula One. It’s essentially a drivers trade union. Usually all drivers are members, but they don’t have to be.

Burzek Taglist: @aruzlover @haiileyshalstead @morganupstead @adamruz @fullwattpadmusictree @redpoodlern @everythingaddictxx @write4life13 @jeanjacketjesus @tuxieboy101-blog @thelittlepterophyllum @planecrazylex @sophiatellerrhodes @ossypooh @kimburgess-ruzek @thestarrynightslover @reidskitty13 @etamne @torreshalstead @itsnotpersonalbut @kellykidd @dedlund82 @pinkwhitebrown @mmacke3613 @upsteadlovingheart @ittybitty-tittycommittee @takemetooneverlanddd @oracle23 @thedefinitionofendgame @headlightsatmidnight @butterflylies @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @withakindheartx @bebataylor84 @whoiamwhoistrivetobe @multicouple-lover @eviehalstead212 @soupysoup @daniellexoc3 @storiesofsvu @keenmarvellover

#Burzek #kim burgess #adam ruzek #adam x kim #kim x adam #adam ruzek x kim burgess #kim burgess x adam ruzek #f1!au

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narcos-narcosmx · 2 years

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Reaction to _ | ficlet 2

Reaction to a 🍆 pic

This is a narcos-only Sideblog for @artemiseamoon

Part one

Thank you 😄 inspo credit to @purplesong1028 (original post). These are not really edited rambles. You know the show you know the warnings. All for fun. Enjoy!

This round: Maria, Cochiloco (ft. Chapo and Güero Palma), Steve Murphy (ft Javi) and my addition of Yessica

Maria aka my Queen

After putting the gifts in the car, Maria shut the truck and made her way to the front. Though she has people who can take care of tasks like this, she’s always been independent and prefers to do things herself. Except for the nights she likes to read in silence, then she prefers things to be brought to her.

With the holidays around the corner, she wanted to make sure she had the perfect gifts for her kids. And seeing the smiles on their faces as they open these up, is going to be well worth the long drive to this specific toy shop.

Just as Maria enters the car, her phone buzzes. Taking it out of her purse, unlocks her phone and stares at it with raised brows.

It’s a dick pic.

Maria take a closer look and shakes her head disapprovingly.

Definitely a dick pic.

Maria clears her throat and pressed hard on the number. The option to call pops up, she does.

It rings one, twice. Then a third time. When the person picks up, she goes off before they get a chance to speak -

She ends her thorough verbal assault with six words, spitting them out like venom, “YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!”

Maria hangs up the phone.

Cochiloco

Ft. Chapo and Güero Palma

Being an assistant at Güeros office meant you saw a lot of funny things, between Cochi and Chapo, you were guaranteed a good laugh at least once a day. You’ve grown used to coming in, start of the day, and stumbling upon a joke.

So when you round the corner and hear their cacking, you know you’re in for something good. Then you enter the office and stop dead in your tracks. You feel your eyes grow wide and you nearly drop your coffee.

“What is that?!” You tilt your head slight, trying to decipher what you’re looking at. Then it hits you, it is that, it’s that blown up to small poster size.

Barely keeping it together, Cochi and Chapo curl over with laughter.

Cochi walks over to you, still laughing, “some son of a bitch sent me a dick pick so -“ more laughing “I posted it then printed it out-“ he howls louder and grabs his stomach

Chapo falls out of his chair.

Cochi points to him, “and this - “ still laughing , “sent one back!”

You shake your head and glance at Chapo, then Cochi.

“Whyyyy would you do that?” You turn your back to the giant dick staring at you.

“Because it’s funny!” Chapo and Cochi say at the same time.

Then the door opens. You catch the brief closed mouthed smile on Gueros lips as he enters. You also watch it drop.

“What the fuck?”

His response makes them laugh even harder and you start to laugh too.

Guero is too tired for this shit. Everything with Miguel and the plazas is stressing him out, and they’re here doing this?

He goes up to the wall, tears it down, then goes over to his desk. He sighs and wishes he was home with Lupe and the kids. Thinking of them alone, brings a smile back to his face.

Cochi kicks the crumpled paper over to Chapo, he’s hiding his laughter behind his arm. Chapo picks it up and puts it in the drawer.

You know them well enough to know, they’re definitely keeping it.

Steve

(Ft Javi)

Steve closes his eyes. It’s been a long day. He’s going to have fucking nightmares about paperwork. He’s going stir crazy in this office and needs some action soon.

Opening then again, he glimpses at the window, the moon is out and it must be about 7 o’clock now. He pours a glass of whiskey and sits back in the chair.

When his phone buzzes, he expects to see a text from Connie, but that’s not what he gets. It’s a text from an unknown number, a fully erect cock staring right at him.

“What the fuck?” Steve drops his phone on the desk and pushes it away from him.

Steve stares at the phone, then picks it up again. He types, “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Then presses send.

“Asshole.” Steve picks up his glass, takes a huge gulp, then gets back to the paperwork.

Javi walks in five minutes later with a fresh pack of cigarettes and some street food in a brown paper bag.

Steve sits up, “Fuck you Javi.”

“What did I do?” Javi looks at him innocently and puts the bag down.

Steve gets up and shows him the pic.

Javi snickers, “you think that’s me?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m offended. I thought we were friends.”

Steve looks at it again, “who the fuck would send me a dick pic then?”

“Better question, why’d you keep it?” Javi raised a brow , leaned against the desk and lit a cigarette

Steve flips him off then deletes the pic.

Javi chuckled, bringing the cigarette to his lips, “if you want to see mine -“

Steve walks out of the room.

Yessica

I adore her so added her in…

Zipping the dress closed, Yessica turns and looks in the mirror. She was playing for someone important tonight, the manager made sure to drive that home to everyone.

It would be a long night, but as long ad it paid well, it’s fine. Yessica finished the final touches of her outfit then grabs her purse.

She heads to the counter to get her phone when it starts to buzz. She slides the screen and opens the text.

Yessica snickers, then raised her brows.

Well, if this is a sign, tonight’s going to be interesting

She puts her purse down and replies,

“I’ve seen better.”

Three dots immediately pop up, vanish, pop up again then vanish.

Yessica chuckles then writes, “hey, maybe it’s cold out? Try again later?”

Three dots pop up, then vanish.

Yessica types another message, “heres a tip, don’t take it fresh out the shower.”

She presses send.

‘Not delivered’ pops up under her message.

“Guess I hurt his feelings .”

Yessica puts her phone in her purse, grabbed her keys, and heads out for the night.

#Maria narcos #Maria Elvira #cochiloco #Chapo narcos #Guero narcos #Steve Murphy #javier peña #yessica narcos #Güero Palma #you know the show you know the warning #not the real guys

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grieverled-moved · 1 year

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UNNECESSARILY DETAILED MUSE DISLIKES [ ; ] PT 1 * headcanon stuff listed below from an older dashgame I did on his old blog. Under a readmore for length!

Muse name: Squall Leonhart

Least favourite nickname(s) : “Squally” / Generally anything meant to demean or mock him. Anything regarding his looks is also on thin ice & he’s more likely to take it as an insult over a genuine compliment unless you’re someone he’s soft on / romantically with. “Pretty boy” is a surefire way to get slapped onto his personal shit-list otherwise.

Least favourite colour: Not really sure there is one. Maybe bright sunny yellow if he really had to pick. It’s too peppy & chipper, makes him wince if it’s a bright enough shade.

Least favourite season: Summer. Too hot & it does not do him any favors with his fashion choices.

Least favourite weather: Sweltering weather where the air holds either no breeze at all or a lukewarm kind that does nothing. Give him ice & snow anyday - he’ll brave that over risking a heatstroke.

Least favourite—hot or cold: Hot.

Least favourite holiday: Doesn’t really care enough to keep track or have an opinion on any of them.

Least favourite food: Not too picky, but anything with an unusual, out there texture or anything that leans too far into the bitter category.

Least favourite drink: Anything overly sweetened & artificial.

Least favourite scent: Tie between blood & anything rotten & decayed. Blood itself isn’t too bad — he is used to it, but it brings up memories depending on the situation he’s in where he’d much rather shut it off unless he’s facing an issue directly. Blood just means “bad”.

Least favourite sound: Shrill, ear piercing sounds - anything resembling an alarm from Balamb or danger. They set him on edge instantly.

Least favourite book: Anything obnoxiously poetic & sappy. Too much mush makes him roll his eyes.

Least favourite movie: He doesn’t really watch anything to have an opinion.

Least favourite tv show: See answer above.

Least favourite school subject or area of study: Learning certain social behaviours for missions. He can breeze through his other studies with little effort, but either of those melt his brain. People are beyond unpredictable. Complicated.

Least favourite aspect of their job: Hard to say - paperwork & being stuck at a desk is not among the list of his favorite things to do, but... People. Dealing with the people - hands down. As a regular Cadet, it was the other students. As a SeeD, it was the clients he’d go to work under. As Commander, it’s everyone, but mostly narrowed down to the others in charge he’s stuck negotiating & speaking with. Bless Xu - without her there, he’d have lost it long ago.

Least favourite fictional character: . . . No comment. ( Someone demanded I say Donald Duck so. Why not. )

Least favourite person: Depends on the situation he’s in. He doesn’t really outright hate anyone specific, but there’s a few people that come to mind that piss him off just a little easier than most.

Least favourite trait in others: Blind faith / Childishly hopeful Naivety. Maybe he’s a little jealous of those that can express it so freely, live in a made up world where everything is fine with little to no repercussions given when you trust too much. That lack of paranoia, of fear at opening yourself up without a second thought. He could never do that so willingly, so seeing others express it is something he’s both amazed by but also envious of. He’d been taught through harsh experiences to always maintain a certain level of suspicion & scrutiny to avoid getting betrayed or backstabbed - so to him, it’s something he can’t understand right away when he sees it.

Least favourite place: Anywhere loud & bustling, full of people. Deling City comes to mind. It can be overwhelming for him if it’s new territory, prompting him to be on edge & alert. Alternatively? If you really want to go there? Anywhere completely isolated & silent, devoid of people themselves or signs of human life. It preys on his worst fears of being alone, memories of his time spent trapped in time compression aren’t remembered all that well, but anytime after the war if he’s in a place too silent or still - they never fail to flicker back to the surface.

Least favourite thing to talk about: His feelings or his memories, as dumb as it sounds. He’s new to having people who genuinely care for him, & brushing them off & shoving them away isn’t an option anymore. But he loathes the feeling of being a burden, or feeling indebted to someone, always viewing small acts of kindness like lending an ear as something done with ulterior motives. If he’s needled about himself & his health or well-being, he will bristle, possibly lie or try to change subjects to avoid it. Another alternative is anything to do with Ultimecia or from the time he vanished after their battle with her & the time he was found by Rinoa again. Memories aren’t the greatest but the feeling of fear sticks.

#╰┈➤ HEADCANONS.#╰┈➤ SCANNED FILES. / CHARACTER ANALYSIS.

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elizabethplaid · 2 years

Video

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130 Number One Hits of the ‘80s (1986-1987)

I recognize most of these songs and/or artists. Some favorites, some standards, some over-played, some “oh I remember hearing that get sampled”, and “oh that’s a cover song, nice”.

Why am I posting it here? I don’t quite know. I’m cleaning out some bookmarks, and there’s stuff here I want to listen to later. I’ve already added ‘em to my “batch listen” playlist, but I thought I’d post the main vid here. Then, if/when I post those later, I can say “hey, this is where I re-found the song”. I guess? Idk.

Track list below the cut, presented in alphabetical order:

1. A-ha - The Sun Always Shines on TV 2. Atlantic Starr - Secret Lovers 3. Atlantic Starr - Always 4. Bananarama - Venus 5. The Bangles - Walk Like an Egyptian 6. Bee Gees - You Win Again 7. Belinda Carlisle - Mad About You 8. Belinda Carlisle - Heaven Is a Place on Earth 9. Ben E. King - Stand by Me 10. Berlin - Take My Breath Away

11. Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes - (I've Had) The Time of My Life 12. Billy Idol - Mony Mony 13. Billy Ocean - When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Going 14. Billy Ocean - There'll Be Sad Songs (To Make You Cry) 15. Billy Vera & The Beaters - At This Moment 16. Bob Seger - Shakedown 17. Bon Jovi - You Give Love a Bad Name 18. Bon Jovi - Livin' on a Prayer 19. Boris Gardner - I Wanna Wake Up with You 20. Boston - Amanda

21. Boy George - Everything I Own 22. Bruce Hornsby & the Range - The Way It Is 23. C.C. Catch - Soul Survivor 24. Chris de Burgh - The Lady in Red 25. Chris Norman - Midnight Lady 26. Cliff Richard and the Young Ones - Living Doll 27. Club Nouveau - Lean on Me 28. Cock Robin - The Promise You Made 29. The Communards - Don't Leave Me This Way 30. Crowded House - Don't Dream It's Over

31. Cutting Crew - (I Just) Died in Your Arms 32. Cyndi Lauper - True Colors 33. Desireless - Voyage Voyage 34. Diana Ross - Chain Reaction 35. Dionne and Friends - That's What Friends Are for 36. Doctor and the Medics - Spirit in the Sky 37. Duran Duran - Notorious 38. El DeBarge - Who's Johnny 39. Eros Ramazzotti - Adesso Tu 40. Europe - The Final Countdown

41. Falco - Rock Me Amadeus 42. Falco - Jeanny, Part 1 43. Falco - Coming Home (Jeanny Part 2) 44. Ferry Aid - Let It Be 45. Frankie Goes to Hollywood - Rage Hard 46. Genesis - Invisible Touch 47. George Michael - A Different Corner 48. George Michael & Aretha Franklin - I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me) 49. George Michael - I Want Your Sex 50. George Michael - Faith

51. Glass Tiger - Don't Forget Me (When I'm Gone) 52. Gregory Abbott - Shake You Down 53. Heart - These Dreams 54. Heart - Alone 55. The Housemartins - Caravan of Love 56. Huey Lewis and the News - Stuck with You 57. Huey Lewis and the News - Jacob's Ladder 58. The Human League - Human 59. Icehouse - Electric Blue 60. Jackie Wilson - Reet Petite

61. Jan Hammer - Crockett's Theme 62. Janet Jackson - What Have You Done for Me Lately 63. Janet Jackson - When I Think of You 64. Jennifer Rush - The Power of Love 65. Joe Cocker - You Can Leave Your Hat On 66. John Farnham - You're the Voice 67. Kim Wilde - You Keep Me Hangin' On 68. Kylie Minogue - Locomotion 69. Level 42 - Lessons in Love 70. Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam - Head to Toe 71. Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam - Lost in Emotion 72. Los Lobos - La Bamba 73. Madonna - Live to Tell 74. Madonna - Papa Don't Preach 75. Madonna - True Blue 76. Madonna - Open Your Heart 77. Madonna - La Isla Bonita 78. Madonna - Who's That Girl 79. MARRS - Pump Up the Volume 80. Matia Bazar - Ti Sento

81. MC Miker G & Deejay Sven - Holiday Rap 82. Mel & Kim - Showing Out (Get Fresh at the Weekend) 83. Mel & Kim - Respectable 84. Miami Sound Machine - Conga 85. Michael Jackson - I Just Can't Stop Loving You 86. Michael Jackson - Bad 87. Modern Talking - Brother Louie 88. Modern Talking - Atlantis Is Calling (SOS for Love) 89. Modern Talking - Geronimo's Cadillac 90. Mr. Mister - Kyrie

91. Nu Shooz - I Can't Wait 92. Patti LaBelle & Michael McDonald - On My Own 93. Pet Shop Boys - West End Girls 94. Pet Shop Boys - It's a Sin 95. Pet Shop Boys - Always on My Mind 96. Peter Cetera - Glory of Love 97. Peter Cetera & Amy Grant - The Next Time I Fall 98. Peter Gabriel - Sledgehammer 99. Prince and the Revolution - Kiss 100. Pseudo Echo - Funkytown

101. Richard Sanderson - Reality 102. Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up 103. Rick Astley - Whenever You Need Somebody 104. Robbie Nevil - C'est la Vie 105. Robert Palmer - Addicted to Love 106. Sam Cooke - Wonderful World 107. Samantha Fox - Touch Me 108. Simply Red - Holding Back the Years 109. Spagna - Easy Lady 110. Stacey Q - Two of Hearts

111. Starship - Sara 112. Starship - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now 113. Status Quo - In the Army Now 114. Stéphanie - Ouragan/ Irresistible 115. Steve Winwood - Higher Love 116. T'Pau - Heart and Soul 117. T'Pau - China in Your Hand 118. Tiffany - I Think We're Alone Now 119. Timex Social Club - Rumours 120. Tina Turner - Typical Male

121. U2 - With or Without You 122. U2 - I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For 123. Vanessa Paradis - Joe le taxi 124. Wang Chung - Everybody Have Fun Tonight 125. Wham! - The Edge of Heaven 126. Whitesnake - Here I Go Again 127. Whitney Houston - How Will I Know 128. Whitney Houston - The Greatest Love of All 129. Whitney Houston - I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me) 130. Whitney Houston - Didn't We Almost Have It All

Most of these are vicious earworms. Steve Winwood’s “Higher Love” has been eating at my brain for the last week or so.

#music #video #nostalgia #music video #80s music #idk how to tag this #clearing drafts

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