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#Earl Grey tea at the ready
lady-merian · 2 years
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I see you finished City Between. *hands you tissues and tea* While I am ECTSATIC for you....how are you feeling? (And are you excited/emotionally ready for the upcoming CB spin offs?)
I’m more than halfway through book 9 at the moment and I’m on the edge of my seat!
I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready for anything, but yeah I’m already so excited!
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evielmostdefinitely · 4 months
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Hi!! I love your snow fics! I would love to see more of them on the tour through the districts
treat me rough |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|
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prompt: as requested above, more honeymoon smut :) also the title is from the song treat me rough by ella fitzgerald which just reminds me of coriolanus and reader haha.
contains: smut 18+. dom!coriolanus and sub! (kinda bratty) reader. possessive, controlling, mean/hard dom!coryo. dom/sub themes. bratting. spanking / pussy slapping (with hand). pinvsex.
“You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Coriolanus growled through gritted teeth, a firm hand on your bicep dragging you to the train’s station. 
You bit back a smile, trying to hide the giddy excitement you felt. Your devious little plan had worked. 
It had been nearly a week since your wedding, since the start of the tour from district to district. A makeshift of a honeymoon that you agreed to. Was it ideal? Not entirely, but at least you’d be together through most of it, Coryo had promised. 
He’d failed to mention his countless meetings and obligations that took up most of his time. When he’d finally return to the carriage, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy, you’d be waiting in your lingerie, obediently on your knees ready to stuff his length down your throat. He’d let you, of course, but other than a half hearted fucking- you were left unsatisfied. 
You knew he was tired. You knew he was stressed and anxious about becoming the President of Panem. But this was your honeymoon. A start to the rest of your life, and if this was any indicator of how your life would change, especially in the bedroom, you were far from interested. 
By District Four, you’d had enough. You knew better than to pick a fight with Coriolanus, it would only frustrate him and he’d be likely to ignore you out of pure spite- he’d done it before. Instead, you hatched a plan. 
At the end of each day at the Districts, you and Coriolanus would join the Mayor and his spouse for tea. You and Coryo would never drink it, of course, he was paranoid about being poisioned by the rebels, but you’d sit and discuss formalities amongst the four of you. 
The Shefland’s were hospitable, a lavish house that sat near the lake where they could oversee their working people- you knew Coriolanus was pleased. They offered you a seat in their sun room, at a small, round table where they offered up Earl Grey and finger foods. Coryo and Mayor Shefland talked rebels, Peacekeepers, and other droning business, while you and the Mayor’s spouse sat obediently. 
For now. 
You placed your hand on Coryo’s thigh, simple and unsuspecting. He looked over at you, patting your hand affectionately, joining the conversation. Your cheeks flamed with daring adrenaline, staring at the poppy seed pastry in front of you, your hand sliding slowly up Coriolanus’ fine trousers. You’d start slow, enough to have him convinced you were doing it innocently, before starting up again. His breath hitched once, a firm squeeze to your hand, shoving it down his thigh towards his knee. 
The cut of his eyes, an icy side glance, you knew you were teetering on dangerous territory, but still not where you wanted to be. Coriolanus would chastise you at most, scold you and maybe take a ruler to your palms, but that wasn’t what you wanted. 
And you always got what you wanted. 
Your hand moved, boldly, resting right on his crotch. Coriolanus’ breath hitched, faltering just for a moment, before you squeezed his length lightly through the fabric, palming his length. Coryo cleared his throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 
You frowned, brows creased in concern. “Darling, are you alright?” You hummed innocently, leaning forward, pressing further into his crotch. 
“Yes,” Coryo hissed, eyes narrowing at you. He cleared his throat, apologizing politely to the mayor, shoving your hand off his length, pressing it into your own lap with a warning squeeze to your thigh. 
You pressed your thighs together, practically squirming in your seat. It worked. Coryo was furious at your blatant brattiness, in a way you hadn’t seen since you first started dating, and it filled you with bubbling excitement. 
Coriolanus hadn’t stayed long after that, curtly thanking the Shefland’s a hand on your back, leading you towards the car. He’d contemplated yanking you over his knee right there, the driver be damned, maybe it’d embarrass you. Instead, he kept his composure until you were alone, dragging you into the private carriage of the train. 
“I should call the Academy. Tell them to refund your father, because clearly they failed to teach you any etiquette.” Coriolanus sneered, shoving you lightly into the train, latching the carriage door behind him. 
“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” You cooed innocently, nearly taunting. Coryo's fists tightened. “I thought I behaved very well for the Shefland’s-” 
“-For the Shefland’s.” Coriolanus snapped, taking a dangerous step towards you, towering over you. “But you don’t answer to the Shefland’s, you answer to me.” 
Your knees wobbled at his tone, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. His hand caught your chin easily, squeezing your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks, pulling your gaze up to him. “You know better.” Coryo growled. “You know better, and you still behaved that way.” 
You whined, his fingers curling tighter around your face. “You know how you act for me, how I expect you to behave.” Coriolanus sneered. “And you know what happens when you don’t.” The lingering threat in his tone had you throbbing painfully between your knees. 
Still, you whined in protest, wiggling to move out of his grip- defiant and bratty, just how you knew Coriolanus liked it. He loved breaking a brat, loved putting you in your place, though he’d never admit it. 
“They didn’t see, Coryo.” You huffed, a roll of your eyes that had him bristling, jaw clenched so tight he was sure his teeth might crack. “It’s our honeymoon, and you’ve been ignoring me.” You whined, a petulant pout that had his cock stirring. 
“Oh?” His tone was dangerous, teetering on amused and sinister. “That’s what this is about?” You whined, trying to wiggle out of his grip. “You acted like this because I’ve been ignoring you?” 
“I was just trying to get you excited.” You muttered, avoiding his hard gaze. “You’ve barely been with me, and-and we haven’t had sex in days and it’s our honeymoon, Coryo!” 
“Days?” Coriolanus scoffed. “We had sex this morning.” 
“Barely.” You muttered, his fingers tightening around you, jerking you towards him. 
“I’ve had enough.” Coriolanus snapped, voice booming, bouncing off the walls of the train’s carriage. You shrunk under his gaze, eyes rounded pleadingly. “You want my attention so badly, you impish little brat, then you have it.” His hand moved from your jaw, and for a moment, you were relieved- until it found its way to your hair, wrapping around your locks and tugging at the scalp. 
You whined, clawing at his wrist as he pulled you roughly towards the bed, sitting on the edge, hauling you over his knee. “Completely uncalled for, touching me like that.” Coriolanus snarled, roughly shoving the hem of your dress up over the swell of your ass. 
Your hands reached back, trying to push your dress back down. Coryo’s hands wrapped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back. “I should bind you.” Coryo spat bitterly, his hands squeezing around your wrist for emphasis. “Should take you out to the center of town and tie you to the whipping post. Show everyone how I handle my disobedient wife.” 
You shuddered at the thought, legs clamping together. Coryo’s brows lifted in amusement, hand smoothing over the bare skin of your ass. “You’d like that, wouldn't you? Filthy.” His hand fell heavy on your upturned ass, without a warning, a resounding clap! filling the air and leaving you breathless. 
“You will behave.” Coriolanus gritted, hand punctuating each syllable of the words with a stinging smack, satisfied at how you whined and wriggled in his grasp. “I will not have a disobedient, needy, bratty wife. Do you understand?”  
Your silence only infuriated him further, two hard spanks falling to the center of your bottom. “Do you understand?” 
“Yes, yes,” You panted, head swimming with a whirlpool of emotions- pain, pleasure, embarrassment, and blinding need. “Please, Corio.” Your hips raised, back arching low to reveal your puffy, wet lips, throbbing with need. 
Coryo’s cock was stiff, mouth watering at the sight. He longed to bury his face in your pussy, push your head into the pillows and devour you- but you didn’t earn it, not yet anyways. 
Instead, he grabbed you by your waist, letting you fall on your back into the soft duvet with a bounce, whining at the fabric brushing your inflamed skin. “Spread those legs.” Coriolanus’ eyes were dark, lust filled and dangerous. 
You parted your legs obediently, watching him carefully above you. His gaze on your pussy, tongue running over his bottom lip mindlessly. “Keep those spread or I won’t touch you at all tonight.” 
You whimpered at his threat, hands hooking under your kneecaps to spread your legs apart, on display for him. Coryo knelt between your legs, working the buttons of his shirt open until it fell open. You ogled at his toned chest, mouth filling with spit at the sight. 
“I think I need to get to the root of this issue.” Coriolanus hummed, tossing his shirt to the side. “You’ve been acting bad because of her, haven't you?” 
Your thighs squeezed, legs starting to close before he stopped you, a warning glare that had you shrinking. “What did I tell you? You don’t want me to touch you at all?” 
You shook your head. “N-No, Sir.” 
Coriolanus seemed pleased at the use of his favorite name, ego inflating at the title. He didn’t think you’d call him that so soon, so easily. Usually he had to push you a little further, until you were needy and desperate for him before you’d call him that. 
“I think I need to spank her.” Coryo’s eyes stayed on yours, kneeling between your legs. “Since she doesn’t know how to behave.”  
You whimpered, nails digging into the skin of your knees, watching him carefully. His eyes on yours, hand raising before it fell, not nearly as hard as the punishing spanks to your ass, but a stinging slap to your mound. One right after the other until he hit five, the last a particularly hard one over your clit that had your hips jolting and writhing. 
You spent the better half of the night, head lolling over the edge of the bed while Coriolanus shoved his cock down your throat, fucking your face until you gagged and cried and begged to be touched. When he finally did touch you, ass raised high, hands folded behind your back while he rode you, fucking you with a punishing vigor in front of the mirror. You drooled on the edge of the bed, whining and whimpering pitifully with every orgasm he pulled from you until he was finally spilling over your abused ass. 
The meeting with the Mayor of District Five was uncomfortable. You shifted in your seat at tea, grimacing behind tight smiles. Coriolanus bit back his own smirk, proud of his handimark that was undoubtedly the cause for your sudden obedience and clinginess. He rewarded you for being so well mannered by letting you sit on his face that night, devouring you while you rode his mouth and nose, hands gripping those golden locks you adored, your wedding ring scratching at his scalp.
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kxmisato · 6 months
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♡ 5:45PM — NEUVILLETTE
↳ note : for @sleepysnk and her down badism for him ♡
↳ song rec : my love mine all mine by mitski
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coming home after a long day in court is secretly neuvillette’s favourite time of day. no more loud yelling coming from prosecutors and defendants, and no more listening to furina’s childish attempts at making the trial a drama.
he gets to come home, home to you.
home where you already have two cups of tea waiting, the fireplace going, and blankets at the ready.
so when he walks through the front door of your quaint home, he already knows what to expect and he accepts that happily.
he shuffles off his dress shoes, unfastens his tie and link cuffs, and inches his way to the living room. and that’s when he sees you sitting on one end of blue chesterfield.
“hi.” you greet him, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a cup of earl grey in your hands. “i missed you, how was the trial today?”
“hello, my love.” he responds, heavy footsteps padding over to you then leaning to press a sweet kiss to your temple. “i missed you too, greatly. the trial was… good. it was just a petty theft.”
neuvillette sits beside you, pulling the blanket that’s wrapped around you to share it, his arm wrapping around you. you playfully pout and he chuckles lightly.
“you should drink your tea, before it gets cold”
“ah, yes, i should. thank you, love.” 
his free arm reaches out to the chestnut coffee table, lithe fingers grabbing the porcelain handle of the cup.
though it was simple, the first step of his night routine was this and it was his favourite. the hushed tellings of how each other's day went and the warmth of a cup of tea to accompany the warmth that you bring to his heart.
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undeadcannibal · 9 months
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Hey thought of some cute and funny Headcannons for Ghost, Gaz and Price teaching their s/o on how to make a “proper cup of tea.”
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Summary: Ghost, Gaz, and Price show their S/O how to make a ‘proper’ cup of tea.
Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Ghost, Gaz, Price
Warnings: None!
A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! I hope I didn’t botch this one. OTL Hopefully y’all enjoy ‘em!  ( Gif credit: xxx )
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Ghost―
Depression was a bitch. Even the simplest things like making food for yourself turned into arduous tasks. Much like today. You were trying to get something - anything, really - into your system just so you didn't feel even worse later on.
Grabbing a mug, you filled it with tap water and set it aside on the counter so you could rummage around through your selection of teas. While you were browsing, you could hear Ghost entering the kitchen thanks his heavy booted footfall, prompting you to glance at him over your shoulder.
"Hey, hon."
Ghost nodded silently as he strode over so he could place a kiss to the top of your head.
"Doin' alright, love?"
Pursing your lips, you hesitated responding before eventually shaking your head. "Not really, no. Having one of those days, I'm sorry..."
He shook his head. "Nothin' to be sorry for."
Looking over towards the counter, he gestured to it silently with a jut of his head. "Making a cuppa?"
"Yeah," You nodded. "I was looking through the teas just now."
"What'd you settle on?"
"Mm," You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe some Earl Grey?"
You watched Ghost squint his eyes down at you, causing you to laugh softly. "What? Don't tell me..."
Ghost's chest puffed up as he took a deep inhale and exhaled slowly as he nodded his head eventually. "No offense, love, but I know when you're not feeling well you tend to throw things into the microwave more."
"I'm 'fraid I can't let you do that. Let me take care of it. I'll make one for myself, too."
Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you nodded your head in agreement anyway.
"Fine, fine." Snorting softly, you'd also comment. "Brits and their tea." Shaking your head for good measure.
Reaching around, Ghost delivered a light pinch to your backside, pleased with himself once he saw you jump and yelp in response. Smacking your smaller fists against his hard chest. "Watch your mouth, brat."
Afterwards, he walked away so he could grab the kettle he brought over just because he preferred it over other methods.
"Here," After he filled the kettle with water, he placed it on the stove top to heat up. "I'll teach you how to make proper tea."
Feeling a little better with Simon's company and attention, you couldn't help but nod and smile at him. "Yes Chef~"
Gaz―
"What tea did you wanna brew again?" Kyle asked as he picked out cups for each of you; his was a royal blue with a union jack on it, yours was molded after a black cat with the tail curled up for the handle.
"Oolong, please."
He nodded and took the loose leaf tea bag out, choosing his own shortly after while you took care of putting water into the kettle, setting it aside for it to boil. While you waited for the water to heat up, you walked over to him, pressing yourself into his back as your arms wrapped him up in a loose hug.
"Doin' alright, dove?"
"Mhm." You nodded against him only to jump shortly afterward when you heard the kettle going off, causing him to laugh at you.
Reluctantly pulling away, you'd reach over to take off the kettle from the heat. Readying it to pour straight into your mug before Kyle called out to you.
"Wait!"
Your eyes widened as you halted in mid-air, whipping your head to look at Gaz like he was a mad man. "What? What's wrong?" You asked in a concerned tone, shaking your head at him.
"You're brewing Oolog tea, right?" He waited for you to nod in confirmation before carrying on. "You've gotta let the water cool for a bit before adding it in. Over-boiled water will make the taste turn a bit off. Also," As he rummaged around in the drawer for something, he'd pull out a thermometer shortly after, smirking at you cheekily. "You've gotta let it brew for two to three minutes."
Staring at him with a deadpan expression, you couldn't help but sigh.
"You've got to be kidding me..."
Kyle shook his head. " 'Fraid not, love. Trust me, you'll thank me later."
"It's just tea!" You exclaimed with a chuckle. "I doubt the difference in taste is that noticeable."
"We'll see about that." He'd reply as he took the liberty of checking the temperature of the water.
You ended up just letting him do whatever he wanted so he didn't fuss over how you made tea.
After the two of you were done, you didn't really taste much of a difference than how you'd normally make it, but for his sake, you acted as if it was the best damn cup of tea you'd ever had. Taking pleasure in seeing him light up with pride at his success.
Price―
"How do you take your tea, sweetheart?"
You were currently making breakfast for the two of you while he tended to the tea. In the time you'd spent together, you'd learned that when he wasn't busy with work, he tended to prefer having tea over coffee when he could.
"Um," Scrambling the eggs in the pan, you hesitated in answering. "I guess sweet is fine?"
"Just... sweet?" John asked, turning to look at you with an amused expression on his face.
Meeting him with a glance of your own, you squinted your eyes at him as if daring him to say something. "Yeah? Don't tell me you prefer unsweetened tea." You teased.
John shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. Leaning back against the counter. "No, no. Not sure how they do things in the States, but we've a few ways to make a cuppa here."
"For example," He continued, gesturing vaguely towards the empty cups waiting on the counter top. "The kind I prefer has a bit of milk to it, few bits o' sugar as well."
"Oooh," You laughed softly, stirring the eggs in the pain as you joked with him. "My apologies, Gordon Ramsay, apparently I forgot to brush up on my tea knowledge."
Huffing, he'd glance off to the side with a disbelieving shake of his head. "The nerve of this one..." He mumbled to himself with a smile.
"I'm just saying," He'd begin, pushing himself off the counter so he could step over to stand in front of you. Towering over you with the height difference between the two of you. "Your poor taste buds deserve better, dear."
"Pfft, get out of here!" You laughed, waving at his face with your free hand. Before your hand fell to your side, he captured your wrist in a gentle hold, pulling it towards his face so he could kiss the back of your hand. The rough scrape of his facial hair coaxing a shiver to course up your spine.
"Never~" He spoke against your hand before he began to kiss his way up your arm. Stopping once he was close enough to you he could whisper just loud enough for you to hear. "Let me make you a right cuppa?"
How could you ever say no to that?
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ickadori · 3 months
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fluff. reader is wearing a dress but is otherwise gn.
You’re touches were too soft—too gentle, too fleeting, too careful.
You treated Wriothesley as if the softest touch from you could add to the barrage of scars littering his body. His skin was thick, hard, and calloused from years of a life that wasn’t all that kind to him, yet you ghosted your fingers along his skin as if it was wet paper, ready to tear and rip at the slightest bit of pressure.
It was new to him, a tad strange, too, but not unwelcome.
Not in the slightest.
++
A cotton ball soaked in antiseptic lightly dabs at the scrapes and cuts on the side of his neck, courtesy of one of the newer inmates that had gotten a bit squirrelly on the long elevator ride down and chose to lash out at the welcoming committee. Tch.
He had been anticipating the sting that often came when the cotton ball got its time to shine, but you had made sure to grab the bottle that housed the no-sting variety, which was typically used for the more whiny patients.
Your face is screwed up in concentration as you dab at his skin, and Wriothesley breathes in deep through his nose, your scent crawling up his nostrils and wrapping around him in a vice-like grip.
You’re close … so close that he can count your individual eyelashes, see the dark freckles that decorate the skin underneath your eyes, smell the tea on your breath (Earl Grey, a gift from him) along with the biscuit you must have had for breakfast along with it (also a gift from him).
He can feel the heat from you radiating off of you and warming him, and he can feel the weight of your dreas (a colorful, frilly thing gifted to you by Sigewinne. It was abominable on its own, but when you wore it, it seemed like everyone else paled in comparison) swishing against his tensed calves.
“You’re tense. Does it hurt?” You fingers smooth the bandage over his injuries, and then you’re lifting your head so you can meet his gaze. There’s a tightening in his chest, and his fingers itch to try and smooth the uncomfortable feeling away.
“No, it’s fine.” He cranes his neck from side to side, joints popping in response, and his eyebrows pull in at the stinging that results from the fresh cuts pulling.
“Are you sure? I can prescribe you a mild sedative - Ms. Sigwinne just mixed a new batch.” You go to, presumably, get the sedative, and Wriothesley moves before he thinks, hand darting out to gently grab ahold of your wrist. Your skin is warm underneath his, and there’s a tingle on his palm from where his skin meets yours. “Your Grace?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m fine, really.” He gives you a reassuring smile, a part of him touched that you care so much. “These are kitten scratches compared to the rest of me.” Your eyes flit about the deep scars littering his body, and a foreign stroke of insecurity starts simmering in his gut.
He had always been somewhat proud in all the scars etched into his skin, their presence showcasing all the fights he had made it alive out of, and had never once thought to cover them up out of shame. But now, with your gaze sweeping over him, he struggled not to slip on his discarded coat and button it up to his chin.
You would never judge him —Gods, never. You were the sweetest thing under and above the sea— but insecurity always had a way to riddle you with paranoia.
“Kitchen scratches..” You repeat, eyebrows burrowing, and he can’t help the way his hand lifts so he can smooth his thumb over them. “You’re a very strong man, Wriothesley.” The sound of his name had never warmed his heart until you began to say it. “But I really wish you wouldn’t brush off your injuries so easily.” You gently fuss, fingers moving to trace over an old scar that peeks out from his shirt collar. “But I guess I shouldn’t scold you too much, you did come to the infirmary this time, after all.”
“Of course I did, you threatened to throw me out into the sea the last time I got hurt and didn’t come to see you.” He chuckles at the memory of your threat, and you bashfully look away and begin fiddling with the tray of medical supplies on the side table.
“Y-You gave me no choice!” You defend. “It worries me when you get hurt and lock yourself away in your office.” Wriothesley tries and fails to subdue a smile. “Why’re you smiling?”
“No reason,” you worry. You huff out an ‘I’m serious!’, and he reaches out to place a steadying hand over your fidgeting ones. Your eyes snap up to his, your lips parting on a soft exhale, and there’s a heat at the tip of his ears. “I’m sorry for making you worry about me.”
“It’s fine… it is my job, after all.”
“Even so,” you don’t move to pull your hand from under his, and he holds onto it just a bit tighter. “I suppose I should be a gentleman and compensate you for all the worrying.”
“It’s my job—”
“The off the clock worrying.” He clarifies, and your mouth shuts when he gives a pointed glance to the empty infirmary.
“…I guess I could use a few coupons.”
“Oh please, I think I can do a bit better than a few measly coupons - we’ll have dinner together.” Your eyebrows nearly shoot up into your hairline. “If that’s alright with you.” He fumbles.
“Oh, uh, yes! It is, of course it is!” A wide smile spreads across your face before you quickly dim it down, gaze trialing off to the side before finally coming back to meet his. “I mean, sure, that’d be fine.” He covers up a laugh with a cough, a smile that would have nearly rivaled yours blooming on his face.
“Great. I can’t wait.”
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mistydeyes · 9 months
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lavender secrets and whispers
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summary: You'd laugh when your civilian friends would crush on your team. You've seen them at their worst, tear-gassed, sweaty and disgusting from days in the field, and beyond drunk from the pub. That's why when your female partner is revealed, the boys step up as your older brothers.
pairing: 141 x platonic! wlw! afab!Reader
warnings: SWEARING, mentions of homophobia
a/n: i love my 141 boys but women are just UGH CHEFS KISS
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You tried to keep your personal life to yourself, not wanting to risk the dangers associated with revealing it as well as wanting to avoid the offers for a threesome
Eventually, your partner was revealed when you landed in a hospital back in the UK
It was just a minor gun shot to the thigh but of course it needed proper care to heal
Your partner joined you by your bedside, holding your hand and keeping you company
After your first day in the hospital, the 141 boys showed up to see how you were doing
“The rest of the mission went smooth- well hello there, miss” Price began to say, locking eyes with your partner. Only Price had known her existence, just in case something ever happened to you.
“I’ll leave you alone, it’s time for some tea anyways” your partner said and exited the room
“I didn’t know you had a sister” Kyle commented before you rolled your eyes and replied, “She’s my partner idiot”
Suddenly it all clicked, your disinterest in all of the offers for romance from young recruits and people from all over the world was because you were in a relationship
They felt stupid, realizing the flags they missed—what straight woman would get Sappho’s writings tattooed?
Suddenly you had an onslaught of questions from Soap and Gaz
“Where did you meet?” “Cambridge, she was on exchange from the states”
“How long have you been dating?” “Six years now”
“You gonna marry her?” “Eventually, definitely not now with my leg”
“How long have you uh—“ “It’s okay Gaz, I’ve liked women my whole life really, I’m not afraid to say it”
Finally Ghost asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?” “Well, some people get weird about it and making some inappropriate comments. You're my teammates but my personal life is, well, personal”
After what seemed like forever, your lovely significant other returned with a tray of drinks
“It’s not much but the local coffee shop was still open so I got you all something”
She handed them to each of the men, remembering how Price likes his coffee strong, Gaz enjoys floral teas, Soap takes it with bucket of sugar, and Ghost always orders earl grey
“Thank you, ma’am” they said and she smiled giving a quick, “welcome home, soldiers”
Eventually after some more friendly conversation, the men were ready to return into their own homes and bed—your so said goodbye and thanked them for generally keeping you safe
As they walked out, Ghost said, “She’s a good one, keep ‘em close Y/N”
During your free time, they always ask to see pictures of her
You’ve shown them a few of your favorites—the two of you at pride, her with your pet cat, and ones from the few dates you went on
Price confides in you as to what to get his fiancée at home, you gladly help him knowing the troubles of finding the perfect gift
Gaz points out every rainbow to you, you can’t help but laugh as you joke about rainbow capitalism that companies do every June
Once Soap asked if you ever had double dates with Laswell and her wife
“No Soap, I know we both love women but gay people aren’t friends with every single gay person”
You do have to tell them that you don’t wanna hear about their rendezvous, you like women but not the sex talk
When you go to bars, the boys make sure to protect you from anyone—knowing your partner would have their heads if something happened to you
One time, a man came up behind you and tried to hold your waist
Ghost whispered in his ear “get your fucking hands off of her” before punching his lights out
He quickly became your girlfriend’s favorite out of the squad
Just know they’ll clock anyone who makes a homophobic comment to you or outs you
Price made one of the recruit’s life a living hell when he heard him say, “Dumb bitch probably doesn’t like dick because she can’t handle it”
Let's just say everyone knows not to mess with you now
If you aren’t close with your family, Price is more than happy to walk you down the aisle and the boys will definitely be in attendance
Soap and Gaz = flower girls! No one questions when two strong military men are stoically throwing flowers down the aisle
It was a beautiful day and you have a picture on your mantle of you and your wife along with your boys surrounding you :)
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flusteredtuna · 3 months
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YES, CHEF!
Carmen Berzzato“The Bear” x !fem! reader
Contains: ( 18+ Mature Only ) praise, first kiss, head, and x-men movie.
Words: 2k+
Summary: Carmen, a good friend, shows up unexpectedly at your door late at night. Tipsy. And things obviously take a turn as he sobers up and you learn the true nature of his visit. ( no under the influence… do not fret )
I used a scene from Netflix’s series ‘Good Girls’ season 4 episode 6, as a main plot point and used the begging dialogue. I won’t name the scene as to not spoil the show ( it’s not a big plot point and the fanfic does not spoil it either. ) you can watch the clip here.
This was written for a friend 💕 ( and i had to repost due to an error ) This is also the second fan-fiction I have ever completed, so enjoy.
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It’s a relaxing Saturday evening in your quaint charming little apartment on the third floor. Warm lighting, antique cabinet, quilted blanket covering your lap, and a warm homemade mug of Earl Grey tea in your hand as you read your book.
knock. knock. KNOCK.
A heavy and lazy hand knocks on your landlord’s special white front door. It’s 10 p.m., who could be knocking on the door? You un-tuck yourself from your spot on the couch and with tea in hand, you head toward the door and open it.
It’s Carmen. You’ve been friends for about a year now, friends with feelings for half that time. You met through a mutual friend, one who works at his restaurant. The relationship between you two is close and has only gotten closer with having the same friend group. But even with the tension in the room during every group hangout, he’s never made a move. And neither have you. Maybe it’s because of his girlfriend. Who didn’t show up to game nights.
And yet here he is, making an unexpected visit to your apartment.
“This isn’t my house,” he says. He smells of beer and is definitely not sober. Both his arms hold his body up as he leans in your doorframe.
“Hey yourself…” your face is twisted with confusion. Carmy never came over, at least not by himself. “Are you…tipsy? Fried? any other word for not sober?” You try to figure him out enough to make him go away before it turns into something else.
He chuckles a bit, “Just a bit buzzed”.
“Why are you in my doorway, Carmen?” You lean against the open door.
“I was at the bar, with friends. Karaoke bar.” He huffs as he finishes his sentence which seems hard to get out of his mouth.
“I don’t even know who to feel sorry for there” you respond. A look of worry mixed in with your confusion.
You stare at each other for what feels like the longest five seconds of your life. His mouth hung open a little.
“I can’t be with her anymore” You wince at his words and your heart drops to your toes. Did he just say that? Has he told her?
“You should go home,” trying to prevent something from progressing.
“I don’t want to go home” he quickly responds
“Then you should go somewhere else” You grab the door leaning away, ready to close it on him. Although you don’t want to, you know you should.
“Can I uh- just please come in?” Starting to close the door he pushes back a bit “No, Carmy. Please trust me, just go home.” He places a firm hand on the door and abruptly says, “I think I’m gonna crap myself.”
You stop and look at him. It’s unbelievable that this is what made you stop. You swing the door open and do the same with your other arm, gesturing to him to enter. He walks in, and heads for the bathroom.
Setting your tea down you sit on the couch waiting for him to come back, you try to think of anything else other than the fact that Carmen is in your home. Possibly with the intention of cheating on his girlfriend with you. Attempting to stare at the patchy rug to find some sort of escape. The goal now was to just make sure he didn’t do anything crass.
He walks out of the bathroom and immediately slumps himself on the floor against the couch right next to you. “I wouldn’t go in there for at least 30 minutes.”
Raising your brows and giggling, “Feeling any better?”
Carmen doesn’t even look at you, he just looks straight on. “Not really.” He rubs his hands together.
“I broke up with Sarah.” He says quietly. Yet another string of words that makes your heart drop.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You try to be reassuring but you’re not sure how to be in this situation. “Do you want to talk about it?” Carmen looks at you, his eyes glossy from his buzz.
“Nah.” You tilt your head at him and then look over at the TV, catching the slight reflection of your two figures lounging on the comfy yellow couch. “Do you want to watch something?”
Carmen’s nods face towards the black screen of the TV, and you reach for the remote to turn something on. “X-men?” you suggest as he gets up and sits on the other end of the couch. One person’s width away from you.
“X-Men it is.” He slurs his words a bit as he gestures to the TV with a hand and flops it back down in his lap. Turning on the movie, you make yourself comfortable by shifting your legs to bend and your feet resting on the middle cushion, pulling the blanket over you. Even with him sitting glued to the arm of the other end, you both are still somehow too close.
As the movie passes, the tension stands. Seeing each other glancing out of the corner of their eyes now and then doesn’t help. Finally, Carmey opens up a bit and starts to comment on the movie, “You know, I don’t know why they cast Evan Peters for this when he plays that other guy in that Wanda show. Fuckin’ stupid.” He sounds more like himself now, which eases the tension, making this situation a little more comfortable.
“Yeah I think there’s a theory about that,” You both continue to talk throughout the movie, he seems to sober up. It’s nice hanging out with him like this. Although the circumstances aren’t 100% preferred, you don’t seem to mind it anymore.
The movie ended with you both laughing at a conversation completely unrelated. Whatever it was it was something way more entertaining to both of you. So long of a conversation that the credits end. You both look over to the screen again. A prompt asking “How would you rate this film?”.
“Well, I guess it ended.” You chuckle a bit but look over at him, seemingly back in his head again. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.
Now sitting up against the arm of the couch and crossing your legs, you feel like you should say something.
“You know the best wa-“ he interrupts you “I broke up with her so I could see you.”
Your eyes meet as he looks over to you, now sitting up a bit more. “Carmy I-“ interrupting you again “Y/N, I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything. I know this is a lot,” he puts a hand to his temple and starts to get a little more passionate in his speech. Almost defensive. “Shit. I just couldn’t see you without leaving and not feel fuckin’ guilty!” His hand gestures around as he speaks, like he’s in the kitchen talking to his staff.
“Carmen!” You try to steer the conversation away from him getting louder, “Why would you feel guilty?” You know the answer to that.
He rests a hand on his lap and his other on his temple again. Releasing a deep exhale, he looks at you. “Maybe I wanted to uh-,” he hesitates for a moment to look you up and down. “Feel something…else.”
You can feel the flush rushing to your cheeks so quickly after he says this. With wide eyes and raised brows, you try to pull out your best response, “Feel what? Pressed about…Marvel casting?”
He chuckles and moves a smidge towards you, putting a bent leg up on the couch, “No no no. no. Jesus. That, that’s ridiculous.” You smile a bit at his amusement, “Then what is it, Carmy?”
Rubbing his face and letting out another huff, he sounds like he’s holding back. And you aren’t sure if you want him to keep it bottled or release it.
Continuing to look at you with starry eyes, he rests an arm on the back of the couch. “Fuck. Look. I don’t want to be too forward and I definitely don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” You press your lips together in anticipation of what he’s about to say, “It’s something that I’ve felt for a while and I’ve been fucking ignoring it.” He pauses again and takes another huff, taking a look at the door. “I should just go.”
As he gets up you grab his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Carmy,” his eyes soften as he looks at you, “you don’t need to leave.”
As you let go of his wrist he sits next to you, closer. “It’s kind of obvious.” You chuckle a bit through your words. It is obvious. You’ve noticed this tension for a while now, he’s only just confirming it.
“What is? That I like you?” His tone is almost defensive like he was caught. A smile creeps on your face, “I mean…Marcus has noticed it too.” He raises his brows, surprised. “He said the tension is thicker than his dark chocolate mousse.” Carmen laughs at this, and so do you. It’s a sweet moment.
He pushes his hair back from falling more in his face, “I uh, I’m sorry I showed up like this.”
“If you mean showing up drunk at my door to use my bathroom and then sobering up while watching X-men with me…” You make it sound like a bigger deal than it is just to tease him.
“No yea, shit. I’m sorry I-”
“Then it’s more than fine.” Laughing again, like you are the only two people in the world. You both exchange a smile looking deeper into each other’s eyes.
“You’ve always had a nice laugh.” He says putting his arm back on the couch, and leaning in a bit.
“You do too.” It all feels like a dream. The fact that he’s here, making a move on you.
He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, so effortlessly, that you wish you could stay in that moment forever.
You look away for a moment, clearly a bit flustered, “Are you sure you aren’t still tipsy?” turning back you notice he’s gotten a little closer.
“I’m positive I’m sober.” He chuckles again.
You start to lean in a bit, not realizing that you have until your noses are about five inches apart from one another. His hand was still near your face, resting on the back of the couch beside you.
Looking at your lips he begins to say, “I uh. Just-”. He doesn’t even finish his thought. He’s too distracted by his lips on yours.
It was a soft kiss, one you’ve been waiting for, for the longest time. Pulling back you find his hand on your cheek caressing it. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He says, with a breath of relief that the hard part was over.
Jaw dropped, you look at his mouth again. He catches this and charges at you for another kiss, this time more intense. You hold both of his cheeks in hopes of him staying put. He almost hovers over you as you both continue to make out.
Soft and quiet moans escape your mouth as he reaches down one of his hands to feel the sides of your arms. Then tracing back up to your cheek. He pulls back. Your lips burn with sensation.
“Carmen,” the words escape your mouth through heavy breathing, “are you sure this is okay.”
He puts a hand to your chin, “Yes.” he kisses your cheek. “I wanna take care of you.” Your brain swarms with ideas of what he could mean.
You smile in approval while taking his free hand and putting it to your breast. He smirks as he follows his hand and where it landed. “Then take care of me.”
With a firm squeeze, he touches you through your shirt, while he moves his face towards your neck and kisses it. He takes his time reaching under your shirt to explore you with more satisfaction.
Caressing your nipple with his pointer and his thumb, already making you weak. And he watches as your face curls in pleasure.
Carmen then lifts your shirt to sit just above your breasts and kisses the center, making his way over the hill of your other breast and biting the peak. It makes you gasp. He puts a hand under the curve of your other breast and messages it.
Your soft moans only make him want you more.
He moves away for a moment, and you open your eyes to watch him, “wha- what is it.” He smirks and lifts the blanket you’re under, just enough to reach his arm in to place a hand on the side of your thigh. Scooting closer he leans over you now slouched on the couch.
Suddenly you’re kissing again, passionately. He feels your thigh up and down gripping it, then moving to the inside. Parting your legs he reaches a hand up from the bottom of your shorts, under your panties to grab your hip. Like it’s his. Then firmly and slowly sliding it back out.
“Take… them off.” You whisper through kisses. Pulling away he smiles and looks at your drowsy eyes. Without saying anything he lifts the blanket further and now using both his hands he tugs on your waistband, taking away the sleep boxers you had been wearing.
Touching you again in that spot that’s so sensitive, he teases you. Denying the pleasure of having the fabric between you and his fingers, out of the way. Your moans continue, still soft, as he caresses you further. The intensity builds as your lips meet again.
Backing away, he lifts the blanket once more, but now going in head first. Your heart drops, you know exactly what he has in mind.
With his head between your thighs he kisses your soft spot, and then taking both his hands on either side of your drawers, he pulls them off revealing you.
Carmen uses his fingers to carefully open you up like a flower, kissing the bud. He’s so gentle that you do feel like you’re being taken care of.
But then you suddenly feel another sensation. His tongue is on you. Swirling around. It makes you moan louder as your back arches. Ribs reaching for the sky. You grab onto the couch to try and ground yourself, but it doesn’t help much.
“You’re so wet for me.” He feasts upon you and now takes two of his fingers and plays with your entrance, spreading your wetness around like butter on a hot skillet. His free arm is wrapped around your thigh, holding on tight to keep you steady.
As he tastes you more and more. The finest dish. You lift your end of the blanket with the small strength you have and watch his head back away from your clit to look at you as he puts two fingers inside you. He starts to push them in and out of you and you throw your head back moaning in absolute hot delight.
“Look at me.” His demand is so dominating. Again, sounding like he’s in the kitchen.
“Make me.” You say through a heavy moan. He pulls his fingers out making you gasp grabbing your chin and pulling your face down to meet his eyes. “Yes, Chef”. He chuckles a bit, letting you get away with that one. You knew he might be thinking about that during his next shift.
You watch as he goes back down, shoving his fingers back inside. Gripping the couch once again louder moans escape your mouth. Picking up his pace you can feel him hitting your walls in the best way. “Fuck, Carmy…” You manage to moan out.
The closer you get the more you surrender to his pace as it gets faster. Your body clenches around him, making it tighter and tighter for him. “Cum for me.”
You nod your head rapidly as you’re too stimulated by the pleasure. Your back arches even further and you become stiff in your position as he hits the spot so perfectly. This is what you’ve been waiting for. The peak of your gratification inches closer and closer.
Finally…you gasp in ecstasy, his fingers still inside you pounding. “That’s it.” He whispers moving away from eating you out, to just using his fingers. Watching you as you finish on them.
Carmen pulls his fingers out slowly, watching your overstimulated body heave heavy breaths. He scoots your legs to the side to lie beside you on the couch. Between catching up with your lungs you manage to speak. “Carmen, you…” You take a clarifying breath as he props himself up on his arm, looking at you as he lays beside you. “You’re really good at that.”
He chuckles, “Of course I am, I eat for a living.” He tucks your hair away behind your ear, and you both take a moment to be present as your tummy buzzes with butterflies.
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hier--soir · 11 months
Text
under the night | six
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] language, being held captive, angst, serious violence, torture, injury, blood, discussions of murder, threat of sexual assault [DOES NOT HAPPEN], very brief discussion of religion/the bible, idk if you think i missed anything please let me know word count: 6k part five | series masterlist | main masterlist
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Clink, clink.
Maria was drinking a cup of earl grey tea. The bergamot has a calming effect, she’d said, would you like a cup? Her spoon swirled in the teacup, bumping against the china every so often as she mixed in a sugar cube. The cup was pretty, a cream colour with pale pink gerbera flowers painted along the porcelain. Clink, clink; the spoon knocked the side of it again, the woman still unsatisfied by the granules of sugar visible in the dark liquid. It was the only sound in the room, bar the soft pattering of rain on the roof, as the four of them sat silently around Maria and Tommy’s dinner table.
Joel huffed in frustration as she finally lifted the spoon from the liquid and placed it gingerly on the saucer, before raising the cup to her mouth and taking her first sip. She sighed happily, relaxing in her chair as she savoured the taste.
“Okay,” she murmured, looking around the table.
“Oh, we can talk now?” Joel snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. “You’ve got your fuckin’ tea and now you’re ready?”
“Joel,” Tommy warned his brother quietly. “We’re all on the same side here.”
“Well, she could’ve fuckin’ fooled me,” he said spitefully in the woman’s direction. “It’s been days, and you haven’t ordered any searches, haven’t questioned anyone.”
Maria raised her hand to stop him, “It’s a delicate situation.”
“No, Joel’s right,” Cal spoke up. The bags under his eyes were heavy, hair greasy and slicked back off his forehead; the appearance of a man who hadn’t slept in days. “You run things here, and I always thought you did a damn good job of it too. But she’s gone missing, and you’re just sitting back and waiting? For what?” 
“Things are returning to normal here,” she said lowly. “People are calming down, and I don’t want to raise any alarm bells if I don’t need to.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Joel all but snarled.
“It means that I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to leave,” she levelled at him, one eyebrow raised accusatorially. Clink, clink. He flinched as she dipped her spoon back into the cup, tapping it against the rim. “Ellie told me.”
Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand forming a fist below the table. “Told you what exactly?” 
Maria gave him a conspiratorial look. “She told me about being strangled, Joel. She came here a few days ago, upset after hearing the news, and we talked. Ellie worries that she might have left out of guilt… and I must admit, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.”
“Wait,” Cal’s eyebrows raised in alarm, eyes darting between Maria and Joel. “What the fuck are you talki-“
“No one was fuckin’ strangled,” Joel ground out, doing his best to stay calm. “Ellie wasn’t hurt. And she wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us; there’s no god damn way she’d even think to go outside those gates alone.”
Joel’s mouth twisted into a pained grimace at Maria’s insinuation, shaking his head jerkily. The last conversation he’d had with you played on his head in a constant loop, the image of your face distorted in despair, the feeling of your guilty tears on his neck – it tormented him. Kept him awake all night, and on edge all day. The idea that you might have decided to leave, out of a misplaced sense of guilt, or fear, or… or because of something he’d said. His chest tightened at the thought. He’d told you not to stay at the house if he wasn’t there, hadn’t he? That’s why you’d gone home alone that night, instead of coming back to him. It won’t happen again, is what you said. Joel mulled the words over in his mind endlessly, searching for a hidden meaning in your tone that he might have missed; a plan to leave him.
Tommy watched the three of them silently, the corners of his mouth downturned in dismay. To see Joel be so distraught was hard for him. Ellie had confided in Tommy that Joel had hardly spoken for the past three days. That he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating. She kept a close eye on him and didn’t pry; simply sat quietly in whatever room he resided in, and just kept a watchful eye on him. Tommy couldn’t thank her enough for it. He’d watched his brother experience so much loss, so much heartache, and he cringed to realise they were witnessing it happen to him all over again.
“She wouldn’t leave me,” Cal broke the silence, his voice cracking on the last word. He reached up hastily to wipe the corner of his eye. “We made an agreement when we first got here. If either one of us decides we aren’t happy, then we leave – together. No questions asked. She wouldn’t break a promise.”
Joel glanced at the younger man, absorbing his words with a blank expression. It still unnerved him sometimes; to gain further insights into the tightknit bond between you and Cal, but he pushed all negative feelings down, knowing the he was right.
“She’s still in Jackson,” Joel said with a tone of finality, straightening his shoulders.
“So what do you suggest we do?” Maria asked. “I’ve already asked so much of our community, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”
“Some fuckin’ community it is,” he muttered. “Women gettin’ stolen out of their god damn homes.”
Tommy gave him a look that said, not helpful. Joel ignored him.
“We question them – all of them,” he asserted. “Ransack every fuckin’ house in this town if we have to. She’s here somewhere – whoever’s doin’ this can’t keep her hidden for long.”
Maria nodded slowly, sparing a short glance in her husband’s direction. “We’ll question people then. If we go to the right ones, someone is bound to spill something.”
Tommy stared at his brother, taking in the way he stared intensely at the woman. “You can’t be a part of it though,” he said softly. Joel’s head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowing.
“Tommy,” he glared, only to be quickly interrupted.
“You’re too high strung, both of you are,” Tommy said, glancing between Joel and Cal. “If you’re out there knockin’ down doors, you’re just gonna scare people off, and somebody will get hurt. We can’t risk you two causing a scene.”
“We can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Cal grunted, hand smacking down on the table.
“You won’t be,” Maria said firmly. “Someone needs to be waiting if she shows up. So wait. If she shows up at either of your homes, you’ll be there.”
“You’re fuckin’ delusional if you thin-“
“Stop,” Maria interrupted softly. “Have either of you taken a moment to consider it might already be too late? It’s been three days… Do you really want to be the ones to find her if she’s…. I’m trying to keep you both separated from this, for your sakes.”
“I’m not fuckin’ listenin’ to this,” Joel grunted, pushing his chair from the table and stalking towards the front door. With his hand gripping the doorknob, he turned his head to the side, staring back at them from the corner of a tear-filled eye.
“She is out there somewhere, alive, puttin’ up a goddamn fight. And when I find her,” he spoke with his back to them, voice dangerously quiet. “I’m going to kill everyone who had anything to do with this. And you two won’t be able to stop me.”
Joel didn’t need to look at him to know that Cal agreed.
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The curtains were always the first thing you saw. When your eyelids managed to crack open, to break through the dried blood that crusted over your eyelashes, you would always notice them first. Large, bundled drapes that reached the floor, covering the walls, concealing the windows and any potential natural light. It was so dark all of the time, and so time had lost meaning. You couldn’t tell how many hours, or days, had passed. All you knew was that the curtains, made from a dark fabric, with pictures of small birds sewn onto them, were the first thing you saw every time you opened your eyes.
Sparrows, the thought whispered through your mind. Little sparrows sewn into the curtains.
A small metal table was positioned in the corner opposite to where you laid on a thin mattress, arms tied to a pipe protruding from the wall. Sometimes your eyes flickered to it, trying to glean what was on it, but it was futile because of the distance. Candles were placed sporadically around the edges of the room, providing a vague yellow light to the space which allowed you see these things. But no natural light meant not knowing when the sun rose and fell., so you learned to rely on a different schedule. Twice a day he would bring a meal into the room, and you did your best to note the time passing, but even that provided little relief. Dehydration and pain had you dropping in and out of consciousness, and you rejoiced in the respite that sleep brought. Sleep brought quiet. Waking, however, brought with it a stark reminder of where you were.
An unpleasant stretching sensation resided in your arms. The muscles burned from hyperextension from constantly stretching behind you to the wall, your hands numb from a lack of blood flow due to how taught the rope around your wrist was pulled. But no matter how uncomfortable, you never turned your back to the door. That way he couldn’t enter the room without you seeing him immediately.
The throbbing in your foot, and the smell of metal was always what you noticed next. Blood stained the lower half of the mattress, and you did your best not to look down. But the smell was overwhelming, and you knew you had to see how much blood you’d lost. Your right foot was caked in dried blood, and the sight of one of your toes missing was enough to make your stomach curl every time, as waves of violent nausea rolled through you.
“That’s fine,” you whispered hoarsely, attempting to convince yourself. “Never used that one anyway, can live without it.”
Talking to yourself helped. Although your thoughts were often delirious and half-baked, hearing your own voice out loud brought a certain sense of calm.
And you’d formed a routine. Where every time you woke, you calmed your breathing, and forced yourself to decide how you were going to behave. How to survive another encounter with him. You’d chosen violence the first time, and you came to sorely regret it.
He’d been watching you that first day; waiting for you to stir. It had been dark, but you still saw him instantly. Cross-legged on the floor beside the mattress you laid on, dark beady eyes bearing down on your skin like weights. The itchy burn of rope against your wrists wasn’t as noticeable at first, for you were distracted by the thick wad of material in your mouth, placed there to keep you silent. When your brain had fully woken up, you’d glared at him in a wide-eyed panic, moaning urgently against the cloth between your teeth, tears brimming in your eyes. No, no, no, no.
“Shh,” Lincoln had murmured, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “It’s okay, shh.”
Tentatively, he reached down and tugged the cloth out of your mouth. You sucked in sharp panicked breaths, staring up at him as the feeling of white-hot terror spread through your veins, all the way from your neck down to your feet. It was him. All along, all the women, it had been him. This embarrassing, weak man, who’d had you fucking fooled. You’d thought him a creep, but not this. Never this.
“Breathe,” he’d whispered, stroking your cheek with his fingers. Heaving sighs tore out of your mouth, and you turned your head in his hold, brushing your nose along the palm of his hand. His eyes shone with appreciation at the gesture, and he smiled. “You’re here with me now. It’s just you and me.”
Holding his gaze for a split second longer, you sank your teeth into the flesh of his hand. He shouted in pain, attempted to pull back, but you bit him harder, deeper. The taste of metal filled hit your tongue, but you didn’t let go until his other hand struck you across the face, knocking you back.
He'd hit your left side, and the all-too-familiar buzzing soared through your ear, exacerbating the pounding in your skull. “You cunt,” he spat, rising to his feet. He glared down at you, cradling his wounded hand against his chest.
And then his foot was slamming into your ribcage. “You stupid,” kick “fucking” kick “cunt” kick. The breath left your body, and you curled in on yourself on the thin mattress, wheezing, until he gave up.
“You won’t do that again,” his reedy voice called out from behind you. “Do you understand?”
Your back was to him, eyes clamped shut as you tried desperately to regulate your breathing. A stabbing pain burned in your right side, flaring every time your chest expanded with a breath. His hand came down on your shoulder, flattening you on the mattress.
“Speak,” he had snarled. “You will answer me when I talk to you, SPEAK.”
Your bloody lips stayed sealed in defiance, glaring up at him. Slowly, the corners of his mouth began to turn upward, lips stretching open to reveal a faded set of crooked teeth until he was grinning down at you. “Okay,” he nodded, reaching into his pocket and walking to the end of the mattress. “You want to see what happens when you disobey me in my house? I’ll show you what happens.”
It had been quick.
Flashes of it were burnt into your memory, but the feeling of the moment evaded you when you thought back on it. Him kneeling on your shins, saying “Do as I say, or I’ll clip your wings, little bird.” Pliers in his hand. The feeling of the cold metal on your foot. The smell of iron. A pinkie toe on the floor, by the mattress, in a crimson puddle.
Your hoarse, tormented wails had filled the room so suddenly that Lincoln was cursing while he stuffed the rag back between your lips, muttering something about people hearing you.
He had loomed over you, torso pressed against yours, gritting his teeth and laughing. Put his hands around your neck and whispered of the stories he’d heard about you, that he’d wondered about you since the day Tommy introduced him to you. “I think that was the moment I decided,” he said. “The moment I knew you were going to be mine – it was the very first time I saw you.”
“I wanted to know what he saw in you,” he’d jeered, breath hot against your neck. His hand gripped your throat, squeezing your windpipe intermittently, only ever letting up when your eyes started to roll back and the pressure inside your skull from a lack of oxygen started to become unbearable, only to increase the pressure again once you’d had a few seconds to breathe. “I’d always thought you must be a good lay, if you’ve got big bad Joel Miller whipped like a dog. Realised pretty damn quick I’d have to find out for myself.” Your arms fought tirelessly against the ropes that bound you to the wall, limbs thrashing beneath him, trying to inflict any sort of pain on him.
You frantically mouthed the word no around the rag, lungs heaving in search of oxygen. The last thing you saw before you passed out was his haunting grin.
And you were smarter after that.
Lincoln was hard to read. When he came to the room next, he acted as though the altercation had never happened. And so you followed suit. You listened when he spoke, and answered accordingly. You ate the food he slid across the floor to you. You held in a disgusted reaction when he gestured to the candles around the room one time, and said, “Romantic isn’t it? Candlelit dinner for two?”  
In the quiet moments, your mind would float away, and you’d allow yourself brief moments of respite, imagining that you were somewhere, anywhere, else. In your dreams, you were with Joel. Safe in his home, in his bed, playing scrabble with Ellie on his porch while he kept score. You tried to remember the way his laugh sounded, or the way his hands felt on your skin. But everything was warped, the memories unclear. Your brain lacked clarity, and the pain distracted you. And Lincoln could tell where your thoughts went in those moments; you almost feared he could read your mind. As if your brain was splayed open before him, and he was pecking at it in curiosity.
“No one will find you,” he’d say softly. Never nastily, but in a tone that was matter of fact. “They aren’t coming for you. It’s just you and me now, sweet girl.”
You would blink away the tears in your eyes and try not to let him see how afraid you were that he was right. Your memories with Joel felt so hazy, and the last time you’d seen him he had been devastated. He feared what you’d almost done to Ellie, feared how out of his control it had been. Maybe it’s for the best, the thought raced through your brain. Maybe they’ll be happier without you.
Those thoughts were the hardest to shake. And they cut deeper than any injury Lincoln could ever inflict.
One night, when it felt like almost a week had passed, Lincoln entered the room holding two plates.
“Dinner time,” his thin voiced called, and a chill ran down your spine. Slowly, you pushed yourself into a seated position, cringing as pain shot through your side.
He placed a plate beside the mattress before tenderly undoing the rope around your left wrist.
“Eat up,” he murmured, taking a few steps back before settling onto the ground and picking up his fork.
You gazed down at the raw red marks around your wrist, basking in your favourite moment of the day – just a few sweet minutes of ‘freedom’. With an aching chest, you saw what rested on the plate. A kind of dark meat, and a small serving of parsnips.
Oh, Joel.
Sucking your lips into you mouth, you willed the tears in your eyes to dry up, desperate not to let him see any sign of weakness.
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Lincoln reaching out across the space between you, and then he placed his thumb and forefinger over the big toe on your right foot, squeezing it once in a silent threat. Your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to pull away. Speak.
“Why are you doing this?” you whispered hoarsely, staring at the food.
“It’s dinner time, when else would I feed you?” he attempted to joke, hand leaving your foot to pick his fork up again. When you didn’t respond the smile slipped off his face. “You’re in a bad mood today,” he decided. “I suppose I understand.”
He watched you like a hawk, eyes raking over your features, your bloodstained clothes, the way you gazed despondently at the plate before you. “Surely you can appreciate though… I mean, it’s just… delightful, don’t you see? To see someone be brought down to their basest human form. No sunlight, minimal human interaction. You rely on me for water, for food, for company. I am all you have anymore, and it is simply… delicious.”
“You’re a fucking sadist,” you shuddered involuntarily, his words making goosebumps break out across your skin. 
“I think so,” Lincoln nodded contemplatively. “It’s not inherently sexual though, I’ll have you know.” You stared, and he let out a low chuckle, hands raising defensively. “Not entirely, at least.”
“You’ll get caught,” you sneered, ignoring the way a cut on your upper lip reopened when your mouth pulled open to reveal your teeth. “You’ll slip up and someone will notice. Joel will notice.”
“Only time will tell,” he mused around a mouthful of food. “Never been caught before though, have I? Not with Milena, or any of the others before you. Not even with my wife; although it was certainly easier to get away with it in those days. The world had gone to shit – everyone was going missing; assumed to be dead or infected. It was so easy. Our girls never had a clue. They trusted me, you see? My beautiful little birds. Believed me when I told them she was lost, that she must’ve been infected. I think that’s what I adore the most – the trust. It was hard to come by here, in Jackson. People were so wary, I had to build up their confidence in me. Really ease into things, you know? But some of these women, they just saw what they wanted to see. A few kind smiles, some silly jokes, and they were mine.” Lincoln sighed wistfully, gazing absentmindedly at the curtains. “Do you like them?” he changed the subject suddenly. “They’re sparrows. Sewed them on myself.” Good God, he was still so fucking chatty.
Nausea twisted in your abdomen. Acidic bile burned in the back of your throat, threatening to bring up the pathetic contents of your stomach. “And your daughters?” you hesitated, wary of angering him. “I… I remember you saying they died.”
He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you noticed one of his eyebrows twitch at the mention of his late children. “I let them go quickly,” he exhaled with a shrug. “Painlessly. It didn’t make sense to make them endure this world anymore. It was a mercy, if anything.”
“Fresh out of mercy then?” you asked bitterly. “If you’re so kind, and so fucking merciful, then why the are you dragging this out? Why won’t you just fucking end it?”
Fork dropping onto his plate with a loud clang, Lincoln murmured your name kindly. “Please understand,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. You might be my last for a few months… so I’m trying to savour every minute I have with you.”
You stared at him, blinking slowly as you absorbed his words. How long could you possibly survive down here in these conditions? But the truth was, you knew the answer to that. You knew because you’d survived for years out in the open, with less food and less water than this. Here you had shelter, warmth, food, and water. He could keep you alive for as long as he wanted you.
Realising it had been some time since you responded to him you offered a meek smile and said, “Tell me more about the sparrows.”
Lincoln looked at you curiously. Trying not to appear uncertain, you reached forward and scooped some food from the plate with your free hand and began to eat. The action alone reminded you of Cal. Of dark nights, huddled together in dusty broken-down buildings, eating whatever food you’d been able to find out of the palms of your hands. You sniffled pathetically and tried not to think about him again.
“Good girl,” he murmured almost inaudibly, and you fought off a shiver. Swallowing made your chest ache. Based on the swelling around the middle of your torso, you assumed at least one of your ribs was broken. Even inhaling brought a sharp pain to your right side, but swallowing? That was a whole other world of pain.
Lincoln spoke about the birds, told you how they symbolised joy and simplicity, and your eyes flitted around the room, taking in as much as you could in the dim yellow light. And then suddenly, he was turning his head fully to stare at the curtains. His back was almost entirely to you, and your heart stuttered painfully at the opportunity that had presented itself. From this angle, you were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in his peripheral vision. Was this on purpose? Was it a test? Heart pounding, you worked silently to push the remaining food off your ceramic plate and onto the floor. Eyes focused on him, you waited for him to turn back, to check in on you, to do anything – but he didn’t.
“You know in the bible,” he said thoughtfully. “Sparrows represented God’s love and care for his creations.”
You hummed in response, gripping the plate in your hand and edging forward. Sweat tickled your forward, made your skin itch. You wanted to wipe away the fresh blood that had oozed from your lip onto your chin, but you refrained. No sudden movements. He was so close now, and this chance would not be wasted on you.
Do not be afraid, you thought.
Blood rushed in your ears as you propelled yourself forward, smashing the plate down upon the crown of his skull.
Lincoln pitched forward, his face knocking against the cold ground with a sickening thwack. He howled a ragged, guttural noise of pain, but his movements were sluggish, his reaction time too slow. A fiery pain roared in your side from the movement and you whimpered, dropping the jagged shard of the plate that remained in your hand. Gripping his ankle, you cried out at the strength required to tug his body toward you. He was writhing on the ground, trying to fight against the fog in his brain no doubt, but you pulled him still, until he was perfectly close.
He mumbled your name, and you brought your fist down over his nose, effectively shutting him up.
“Stop fucking saying my name,” you growled, angrily swiping perspiration off your upper lip. This was it. If this didn’t work out, if he regained the upper hand, you’d be dead, no questions asked. You’d started this, and now would certainly be your only chance to finish it. God, your ribs were on fire. You hastily dragged a fragment of the plate in a sawing movement across the rope keeping your other wrist tied, and when it broke away, you heaved a painful sigh of relief.
Planting your knees on either side of his body, you straddled his chest, trapping his arms to his torso. You patted down his body, searching his pockets until you found what you were looking for. The pliers were cold and heavy in your hand. Lincoln blinked lazily, gazing past your shoulder at the roof.
You reached down and gripped the sides of his head. “Look at me,” you seethed, before slamming his head back into the ground. He groaned loudly, but his eyes focused on your face. Blood poured from his nose, spilling into his open mouth and filling the gaps between tooth and gum.
“You won’t kill me,” he garbled out around the crimson liquid. “My little bird… I know you wouldn’t kill me.”
“Stop talking,” you moved to be beside his body and pressed your knee onto his left arm.
“You won’t,” he was speaking incessantly now, rambling. “I know you, you’re good. You’re so good, you sweet girl. You wouldn’t kill, and that’s why I like you. I could see it in you. You’re too good for this world, I’m trying to help you, don’t you see?”
“Shut up,” you snarled, pushing the pliers down until they were positioned around his pinkie finger. “You think you fucking know me? You have no idea of the things I’ve done.”
His eyes blinked lazily, trying listlessly to focus. His free hand reached sluggishly towards your face, and you batted it down roughly. Gripping the pliers in both hands, you pressed down. The sound of his screams filled the room as his pinkie finger rolled across the floor.
“You want me to come into my home,” you sneered. “Take me, hide me away, and then kill me?” Positioning the tool over his ring finger, you cut him slowly, revelling in the pained sounds leaving his body, the way his blood spilled onto your hands as you worked. “Oh, Lincoln. You’ll have to try harder than this.”
Again and again, you worked with a gruellingly slow pace, removing all five digits. You didn’t notice that his free hand was gripping your arm so tightly that his nails had drawn blood. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down. Do not be afraid.
“Please,” he was sobbing, his mouth wide open like a sore on his face, jagged teeth exposed through thin bloody lips.
And yet as he begged, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse, because through the tears, and the snot, and the blood, it wasn’t just Lincoln that you saw. It was that boy, from a decade ago. That boy that climbed on top of you and laughed. Who enjoyed your fear. Who held you down that night, and every night after, plaguing you in your sleep for years. The boy you couldn’t fight. The boy you couldn’t kill. You wouldn’t let it happen again. Never again.
A memory flitted through your mind so quickly it almost didn’t register. But his voice was clear in your head. Joel, and the words you’d shared in front of the fireplace at your home so many weeks beforehand.
“I want to be strong, Joel.”
“You are strong.”
You refocused on Lincoln’s face.
“You want to be in control?” you sputtered, vaguely aware of how deranged your shrill voice sounded. “You want women to be quiet little toys for you to play with in this sick game you’ve created? I’m a fucking person! I’m real!” your voice cracked. “You want to kill me, Lincoln? Let’s see you do it without your fucking fingers.” You realised then that you were crying. Soundless tears streaked down your cheeks, leaving clear trails in the dirt and blood that stained your face.  
He looked on the verge of passing out, and you tore his hand off your arm, stumbling away from his body. You stepped awkwardly on your right foot and yelped in pain, grimacing at the bloody footprint that followed behind you when you walked. Wrapping an arm around your torso, against your ribs, you struggled to breathe. Running on pure adrenaline, your eyes drifted toward the table in the corner. A pocketknife and a lighter laid serenely on the top of it, and you stumbled toward it slowly.  
But a heavy blow landed on the back of your knee, stopping you in your tracks. Your arms flailed as you fell forward, and when you hit the ground, the table came toppling down with you.
“S-stop,” Lincoln was speaking, his speech slurred and disjointed. His bloodied hands clawed at your legs, pulling your body towards him while you thrashed against his hold. Your leg kicked backward desperately and connected with his face, and you screamed at the throbbing pain that shot through your foot.
Neither of you noticed how the table had knocked over multiple candles, or the way fire blazed along the bottom of the curtains. Little sparrows, turning to ash as flames snaked their way up the drapes, slowly engulfing the walls of the room in vibrant red.
You fumbled for the pocketknife on the floor, rolling onto your back just as his weight landed on top of you. His heavy breaths hit your face, blood dripping from his nose and splashing onto your skin.
“Little bird,” he whimpered brokenly. “Why would you ruin this?”
The temperature in the room had risen exponentially, and the pair of you were so close to the wall that it was impossible to ignore now. Wild flames licked at the bare skin of your arm, but you paid the burn no mind, pushing against his face, his neck, trying to get as much distance between you as possible.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he howled, landing a heavy blow across your face. You coughed roughly, blood spitting up from your mouth onto your chin.
You gave up on pushing him back, instead using your hands to fumble with the knife. Lincoln’s good hand gripped your throat, his remaining fingers pressing down on your windpipe. Blood roared in your ears, and you were sweating, and god it was so hot. The air thickened with smoke, making it harder to breathe than it already was. Your hands were so slick with blood that it was difficult to unhook the small blade, but after a few moments you did it. Gasping for air as he bore his entire weight against your neck, you plunged the knife into his side.
A choked sound of surprise fell from his mouth, and then air was rushing into your lungs, and you were coughing harshly, watching as his body collapsed to the side of you.
He was still alive when you crawled on top of him, eyes bulging as he gripped the handle of the blade lodged in his side. You slammed your fist against his broken nose, and both of you cried out in pain. By this point, the fire was roaring through the room, the four walls covered in a beautiful mix of orange and red flames. The heat was sweltering, and so so close that sweat dripped from your nose and chin.
A deafening bang reverberated through the room and you covered your face instinctively. Shattered glass from the windows rained through the air and covered the ground, and moonlight streamed into the room.
Distantly, you thought you could hear voices, or the sound of a door opening, but you ignored it. Impossible. Your fingers wrapped around Lincoln’s spindly neck, and you positioned your thumbs over his windpipe, before pressing downward with all of the strength in your body. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, but you pushed through it, gathering blood and spit in your mouth and releasing it in a spray onto his face. He flinched back at the sensation, and you grinned messily.
You imagined briefly what you must look like; covered in a mix of blood and dirt, hair matted to your head, straddling this man, and grinning down at him.
“Are you afraid?” you whispered.
You could see the light slowly fading from his eyes, and you pressed harder, arms burning with the effort. A burning sensation exploded in your left thigh, but you ignored it, digging your elbows into his chest for leverage and pushing. In the second you realised it was about to be over, there were hands on you. Gripping you, wrapping around your waist, wrenching you away from him.
The foreign hands were pulling you back, tugging you towards the door, but your eyes were trained on Lincoln, as he gasped for air on the floor, alive. You could hear shouting, male voices yelling so closely, but the words were indecipherable. And then suddenly, you were enveloped by cold, winter air. You were outside.
Hyperventilating, you dropped to your knees on the ground, burying your red hands in the wet grass, and wailed. Thick tears blurred your vision and rolled down your face in hot rivulets.
The relief was short lived though, as those hands returned to your body. Gliding over your back, squeezing your shoulders, touching your face. Your stomach rolled violently.
“Don’t touch me,” you begged, your voice an unfamiliar shriek as it ripped from somewhere deep inside your body. “Get your fucking hands off me, don’t fucking touch me, don-“
“Darlin’, it’s me, it’s me,” you could hear, but you just fought harder, beating against the solid wall of brick in front of you, pounding your fists against his chest.
“I’ll fucking,” you gasped for air, eyes clamped tightly shut. “I’ll fucking kill you, get away from me.”
But familiar hands were gripping your face, holding you tightly, forcing you to look, and when you did, it’s like your body went limp. All the fight in you disappeared.
You mumbled his name, and he nodded furiously, those brown eyes you loved gazing into yours, panic and concern evident in the harsh lines across his forehead, in that deep frown you knew so well.
“It’s me, baby, I’ve got you,” his voice was like a song in your ears, and you closed your eyes and let him hold you, listening to the desperate apologies he whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’ve got you now, it’s over, it’s over.”
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part seven
tag list <3
@huffle-punk @n7cje @ghostofjoharvelle @nrmnie @sarahhxx03 @casa-boiardi @leeeesahhh @missgurrl
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eclairfromleclerc · 2 months
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Hello people! It’s been a while since my last chapter but the writer’s block was humongous and I kept pushing myself to write the next chapter. It is another long one, almost 25K words. Please excuse me for my long ass absence and stay with me for the rest of the story! I hope you’ll enjoy the newest part and I can’t wait to see your opinion and comments on it. Take care. Until the next one <3 xx
All’s Fair
(Toto Wolff x Reader!Horner) Chapter 9
chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8
Monaco has the best sunny days in the whole world. You’ve loved going out under the Mediterranean sun every time your family visited Monaco when you were young. Now laying on the couch that you’ve spent almost all of your summers on, you see the light entering the apartment. Music plays in the background as your friend Sara is making coffee in the kitchen and you are laying in her living room as you’ve always done. 
After the victory celebrations on Sunday you left the track and flew straight back to Nice. Your childhood friend Sara picked you up and you’ve been staying in her family’s house in Monaco for the past 2 days. Those days passed by with your usual activities. Having coffee in the casino square, going out clubbing, cooking, gossiping and in general doing girly things. As soon as you arrived in Monaco you visited the apartment that Sara proposed and booked it right away as you had already asked for your belongings to be moved to Monte Carlo. The only thing left for you to do is to move all of those things to the apartment. The thing about being in Monaco is that now you are able to show the world where you are. During the past weekend there was just speculation about where you actually were. You had managed to place yourself in Monaco with some instagram posts but no one knew (well except for Toto and Lewis) that you still were in Jeddah.
“Sweetheart coffee is ready.” Sara yells from the kitchen 
“Bitch I don’t drink coffee” you answer “You haven’t seen me in a month and you already forgot?” 
“Shut up, I made you your Earl Grey just how you like to drink it” she says and you’ve already made your way to the kitchen 
“Thank you idiot” you tell her
“You’re welcome, your majesty,” she says, mocking you for your tea preferences. You sit down opposite to her and start drinking your tea. “So” she interrupts the silence “Do you remember Marc?” she asks 
“Marc who?” you ask
“Marc Taylor.”
“S, are you serious? Are you asking me if I remember the guy I had a crush on for ages?” you ask her
“Well you’ve met a lot of people since you started working in F1 and I genuinely thought you forgot him” she says “Anyways, he saw the story I reposted from yesterday night  at Jimmy’z and replied to it. He asked me if we wanted to join him today.” 
“Join him where?” you ask intrigued
“He will be having a brunch party at his yacht.” she says trying to hype it up 
“Ugh, I’m not sure I want to see so many people.” you say 
“Come on Horner, it’s going to be so great. We haven’t had a brunch party at a yacht in ages, the last time we did was when you graduated.” she pauses “Plus he told me not to hype it up, the only people there will be his friend group.” 
“Marc’s friend group is 15 people. I am only willing to see 5.” 
“Why are you acting like a 65 year old with depression, come onnn.”
“Because my job drains me to the point that I just want to stay at home with a cup of tea and read a good book. I am with people every day and during the weekend I am chased by cameras and fans.” you tell her as she looks at you mockingly “I know, I know. I chose this life and to be frank I love the whole fame,chase and clout that comes with it. But during my non-race weekends, I need to have a detox.”
“You had your whole week off, enough paddock detox, enough people detox. What were you doing in Jeddah? Meditating, visiting the four seasons’ spa, drinking coffee, eating expensive meals. That’s enough, now we get to party.” 
Little does she know that you weren’t actually meditating, not visiting spas, not even staying at a four seasons’ but at a Ritz. You take a look at your best friend as she puts on her puppy eyes. 
“Pretty please.” she says and she crosses her hands as if she’s begging “Do it for me Horner, it’s going to be fun. It’s part of your new life after all. People here in Monaco have brunch yacht parties really often, so you better get your ass ready. We are going.” she says.
You shrug in response, but actually get up from the chair and go to the guest room where all of your belongings currently are. You open your suitcase and take out the sundress you wore the day you and Toto went for coffee together and match it with a pair of Hermes sandals. The weather is now sunny in Monaco and you actually love how it is a great mix of sun, breeze and heat. You put on some makeup and style your hair as loosely as you can, you’re going to be in the sea after all. Later both you and Sara leave the house and go to the location that Marc dropped a pin on. You can hear people talking from the other side of the yacht, the one that faces the Mediterranean. You quickly jump on the platform on the back of the yacht and walk up to the place where everyone’s sitting. 
“Hello everyone.” you say and you see Marc standing up approaching you. Sara is just behind and she waves everyone but doesn’t get any closer to you. Marc comes to your side and hugs you. 
“Miss Horner.” he says in awe “It’s been a long long time hasn’t it?” he asks 
“It has. Thank you for the invitation.” you say “We brought a little something.” you say and you hand him the bottle of Dom that you’ve been holding. 
“It’s really no big deal, I wanted to see you and Sara so I just texted. Thanks for the Champagne.” 
By the time both of you stop interacting, Sara is already sitting on the table and speaking to everyone. You take a seat, far from her in the only two empty chairs and Marc emerges shortly after to take the seat next to you. Without asking he starts filling your plate. 
“You should definitely try the Croque Madame, it’s a miracle.” he says and you smile at him 
“I will, thanks.” you reply as you register his existence next to you. He’s the most charming guy you’ve met, well less than Toto but to be frank, you can see why you were heads over heels with him. At that moment you decide to snap a photo and text Toto.
You 
[Photo]
Much earned gift for my last week’s performance
Wolff
You better recharge, I want you on your A level in Baku. 
[Photo] 
The weather here is freaking awful, I miss Monaco. 
You 
Wait, you actually know how to send pictures? Monaco is amazing today. You should have been here.
Wolff
Replying: Remember who gives you access to the paddock. 
If I were there you wouldn’t be in that yacht right now.
You 
Toto behave, you’re at work. 
Wolff
I’m at a business meeting and I hate those so why not distract myself with some other thought. 
You 
Because I’m so hot you’re going to embarrass yourself. Gotta go now, I've got a whole yacht waiting for me
Wolff
I don't blame them. Have fun, just not too much ;)
You laugh at Toto’s texts as Marc watches you at the same time 
"Are you bored of us" he asks
"No, I just have to text someone" you reply 
"Red Bull keeps getting you busy I see?" he asks 
"Actually, I am not in Red Bull for the time being, I am just enjoying myself  and I am actually moving here next week" 
"Great decision to be honest. Monaco could use a distraction." He says 
"So I've been told" you tell him
"By whom?" he asks and you realize you cannot possibly talk about Toto with him 
"Just a good friend" you laugh 
“ah one of those best friends, I get it" he says and you nod not showing any emotion at all over what it meant
“Are you enjoying yourself in F1?” he asks trying to start conversation with you
“I am. It is a space I’ve grown up in and I already knew everyone as well as everyone knew me. There’s nothing different as to what I’ve lived up to now except for the fact that I have a little bit more screen time than I used to have 5 years ago.” 
“Well 5 years ago I used to see you almost every week and now I have to watch F1 to see you.” he says
“You watch F1 now?” 
“I always watched F1.” he says 
“I’m pretty sure you’ve only watched the Monaco Grand Prix.” 
“Until this year.” he replies “Plus I have a really good reason.” 
“What’s the reason? Max’s racecraft?” 
“Nah, you are” he says and you freeze temporarily
“I’m flattered.” 
“I meant it as a compliment so you should be.” he tells you and he looks at you with a flirty look and you turn to look at Sara who is already too invested in her conversation with Marc’s friend, Tristan. 
The rest of the brunch party goes on in a pretty similar way. Marc keeps flirting with you and Sara is way too busy to come to your rescue. At some point the yacht leaves Monaco and sails in the Mediterranean for two or three hours while all of you party on the deck. Now the sun is setting down the horizon and you return back to the harbor of Monaco and the party has already winded down so you find yourself sitting on a chair sipping your last glass of champagne. Sara is nowhere to be seen, probably too busy making out with Tristan on the inside of Marc’s yacht since they’ve been missing for the last 45 minutes or so. The chair opposite to you is empty but not for long. As soon as Marc spots you he leaves his friends and comes to your company. 
“Did you enjoy the party?” he asks
“It’s been a while since I partied like this but I loved it. Now relaxing with a glass of champagne is the must thing to do.” 
“There’s plenty of space inside if you want to lay down for a while.” he tells you
“I think the space might be occupied by our friends and as close as I am with Sara today isn’t the day that I want to listen to her having sex with your best friend.” you laugh
“The yacht has 6 cabins. I very much doubt all 6 of them are taken.”
“6 cabins huh? The Taylors really have given it some thought before spending money on this yacht.”
“Yeah, my mom insisted. But hey, that’s why we’re working our asses off every day. To spend on things like this.” 
“So you are working?” you ask him
“Yeah, I’ve taken over some of my dad’s companies and I’ve been living between Monaco and Switzerland for a while.” 
“And how is it?” 
“You know how it is. We’ve learnt to live in this world. I love the job but really that’s all I focus on. Thank god all these fuckers are around and remind me that I need to have a work life balance.”
“Oh my god. Marc Taylor is a workaholic?” you say surprised “You need people to remind you to live for a while instead of working?” 
“My mom is so afraid that I won’t even have a wife that she’s trying to get me to meet eligible bachelorettes.”
“Lisa is actually doing this?” you ask shocked
“Lisa has been asking me to ask you on a date for months” he tells you and you laugh hysterically.
“Well tell Lisa that I am twice the workaholic that you are. I am not working and living, I am living my life at work. I am constantly working.”
“How does it feel?”
“It does get a little lonely at times. But as you’ve said I’ve learnt to live like this ever since I was a baby. Sometimes I just wish I had someone to support me.” you tell him and what he does next surprises you. 
He leans closer and puts a hand on your cheek and kisses you. You don’t react. Partly because you were caught completely off guard and partly because your 19 year old self would die for this kiss but the only thing in your head that played over and over again is “You can’t do this to Toto” .  He pulls away from the kiss and you smile but he’s looking for something more and you know it. 
“Marc,  look I am so flattered that you actually like me. My 19 year old self would be dead right now. But as much as I used to like you then, I cannot do it now.”
“You’re not into it huh?” he asks partly heartbroken partly surprised
“It’s not that. It’s that there’s someone else in my life right now and the things with me and him aren’t that simple so I wouldn’t want to further complicate it.”
“I understand.” he says “Although Lisa would be thrilled to have you as her daughter in law, I have to destroy her dreams.” he laughs
“I am so sad. Tell her I love her regardless and if I end up alone you’ll be the first one I will flirt with.” 
“Bold way to tell me I am the second option.” 
“Oh god no that’s not how I meant it. It’s just that you never know how life will play out. We might end up married managing the Taylor Group and Red Bull Racing, but we might just end up as two workaholic friends who push each other out of their working space.”
“That’s true.” he says 
For the next 10 minutes you discuss and when the yacht finally arrives at the harbor you leave the yacht before thanking everyone. You and Sara walk back home and she keeps talking about her and Tristan during the whole way to her house. You keep quiet about the whole thing with Marc and let her vent about what happened for the rest of the day. Late at night just when you’re ready to go to sleep, her in her bed and you on an inflatable mattress Sara is still talking about Tristan. 
“He actually texted me like 5 minutes ago, I can’t believe it.” she says “We are plann-” 
“Marc kissed me.” you say interrupting her mid sentence
“WHAT?” she screams and jumps on her bed
“Yeah, you were too busy screwing Tristan on those cabins but when we arrived at the harbor, he sat down next to me and kissed me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asks completely shocked
“Because you were venting about Tristan and I knew you would react this way.” you answer
“Well why aren’t you reacting in this way? You’ve had a crush on him since forever.”  she asks
“Had. Past tense.” 
“Well, do you have someone better than Marc to hook up with? His father is a freaking billionaire and he’s about to inherit all this. He’s handsome and kind and he’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” 
“Yeah, now he’s not the one I am dreaming of. Plus, believe it or not, it’s not always about the money.”
“Are you out of your mind? Who is possibly a better option than Marc for you right now? Well, to be frank Charles Leclerc is. You’re not sleeping with Charles Leclerc are you?” she asks and you laugh 
“If you actually knew who the guy who is the better option you’d definitely think I’m out of my mind. And no, I am not sleeping with Charles Leclerc, sadly.” you tell her
“If you don’t spill, I will kick you out.” 
“I most definitely cannot tell you.” 
“Come on, we’ve known each other since we were in the womb, your family is my family, what tells you that I could possibly say anything to anyone?” 
“Okay, I will tell you, just because you actually are my best friend. But don’t you dare say anything to anyone or I will be destroyed. Oh, tell me your wildest prediction.”
“Just so that I have a clear target group, he is from F1 right?” she asks and you nod “Omg, is it Max? Because if it is Max it will be the most iconic friends to lovers boo-” she starts ranting and you interrupt to shock her once again
“It’s Toto Wolff” 
“WHO?” she looks at you like you are a lunatic. 
“It’s freaking Toto Wolff, Team Principal of Mercedes AMG Petronas F1” you tell her and she looks absolutely shocked
“You are definitely out of your freaking mind. Since when are you into older guys and how the hell did that happen?”
“I always thought he was attractive but was blindsided by Christian’s hate for him. But long story short, I got drunk once and we hooked up and it’s only been going downhill from there. I’ll have to explain it to you when I get to my new apartment.”
“I am absolutely shocked.” she says “Is he at least treating you right?” she asks
“We are just hanging out but he’s been decent I’d say.” 
“Now that I am thinking about it,  he kind of is the better option.” she says and she visibly loses herself in thought 
“Just so you know, the only people who know about all this are you and Lewis.” 
“I have a common secret with Lewis Hamilton?” she asks, showing her clear preference for him. 
Your answer is to just laugh and then say goodnight to her. 
The next day you are being woken up by the light entering the room from the window that you forgot to close. It’s the day that you will finally move to your new apartment in Monaco. You grab your phone first thing and you see millions of notifications, more than usual. Your first thought? Something bad happened. And indeed something had happened, not exactly bad, but the headlines from the news, tweets and tags are somewhere in between the tone of
“Red Bull Racing’s newest management addition shows her love with a billionaire’s son in Monaco.”
The first article wrote: Miss Horner and Mr. Marc Taylor were spotted getting cozy at the latter’s yacht party in Monaco harbor yesterday. The pair shared a kiss and they seemed to exchange some fond words. We are excited about this new romance blooming in the streets and seas of Monaco. Are we going to see the Taylor Group entering F1 alongside Miss Horner’s Red Bull Racing? It’s only a matter of time to see.  
“Shit, shit, shit” you keep saying and Sara who has only woken up looks at you like you’re crazy
“What?” she asks
“It’s all over the freaking internet.” 
“You and Wolff?” she asks nervously
“No, god, it’s me and Marc” 
“Wait, how did that happen?”
“Someone must have snapped a picture of us while we were kissing when the yacht was in the harbor. God this is a disaster.” 
“Why is it a disaster?” she asks. Well sometimes you really doubt about her having a brain
“If Toto sees this he’s going to be feral.” you say “Oh god, I should text him right now to let him know that the whole thing is a lie.”  You open the iMessage app
Wolff 
[Photo] 
Flying to Nice from the UK, I’ll be in Monaco for the rest of the week. 
You check the time that this was sent. Yesterday afternoon. You were probably at the party then and you accidentally deleted the notification so you didn’t see the message afterwards but now you decide to reply. 
You
I hope that you have arrived in Monaco safely. I am sure I will see you somewhere here before we get the chance to meet all alone. Sorry I didn’t reply earlier but I must have accidentally deleted the notification while I was at that yacht party yesterday. Speaking of which, I need to talk to you about the whole thing going around on the internet. 
You see that your messages are being instantly read but you get no reply. 
“The moving truck will be arriving at the apartment in 20 minutes, we must get going. Come on, get ready.” Sara says
“S, Toto is leaving me on read, do you think he’s mad at me?”
“No, he’s probably too busy in those company meetings back at Brackley.” she tries to reassure you 
“Toto flew to Monaco yesterday afternoon, he’s not at Brackley.” you tell her
“Well, he’s still working from Monaco so he might reply to  you later. Girl, we really don’t have time for this. It’s moving dayyy.” she says trying to hype you up. “Up, up, up” she says trying to grab you “The moving guys will be at the apartment and you will be lying here all day? Let’s get ready to move in. You’ll worry about Wolff later. And at the end you told me that you’re just hanging out, it's not anything serious so you’re free to do whatever you want. And if he’s sure that you want him he won’t even believe those things.” 
You stand up before replying and put on a pair of sweats and a Red Bull t-shirt to be comfortable while moving in. “I know that we’re just hanging out at the moment. It’s just that the things are confusing as it is now, I don’t want Marc Taylor confusing them more than that.” 
“He won’t. But you’ll have to worry about it from your new bedroom so, shoes on, grab your bag and let’s go to the apartment. 
You do as she says and 20 minutes later you are outside your newest home getting the keys from the owner while the guys are removing boxes and furniture from the truck. 
“Well, you are here.” Sara says. “I have to confess it looks really pretty and modern.”
“Sara, it’s just the outside of the building.” 
“But still it’s pretty. The actual apartment is prettier though” she says and she instructs all of the boxes with your belongings and furniture to be moved to the 6th floor. For the first time in your life you will be living at the top of a building. You and Sara take the elevator to the apartment. You unlock the door while the guys are waiting for you and you enter using your right foot first.
 “It’s for good luck.” you say to Sara and she smiles doing the same 
For the next 5 hours you and Sara assemble your furniture and unpack the boxes with all of your stuff. You show her your ideas on how to put everything into place as you’ve imagined it and as you’ve seen it on your pinterest moodboards. At some point both of you try to settle the bed in your master bedroom. A new queen sized bed that you bought after seeing how big the room is. The one side of the loft is covered in full length glass windows that have a great view to the mediterranean with a huge balcony just in front of them that you will probably enjoy your morning tea in, during the non race weeks. The light enters every room, giving them a great coziness and openness. While you two are trying to move the bed just in the right place you remember that now you happen to have neighbors. 
“Shit S, are we making too much noise?” you ask
“Well, if you know another way that we can move this monster bed and not make a sound, let me know.”
“What if the neighbors are annoyed?”
“They can fuck themselves, it’s not even quiet hours yet.” she says and you help her do the job.
After the bed gets in the right place you lay there for a second
“Horner, come on, what are you doing?” 
“I am too overwhelmed by this, we’ve been working for 5 hours nonstop and this thing isn’t anywhere close to a living apartment.” you tell her
“Oh and wait till I leave you to go to the gym.” she says
“Come on Sara, you are working out here can’t you just skip the gym today and help me a little with those boxes?” 
“I’ve been doing it for the past 5 hours if that says something to you. I will be leaving in half an hour though. And don’t worry. You can take it one step at a time and after some time you will manage to unpack your whole stuff.” she says smiling
“I hate you.” you tell her and you go back to work. 
You set your new office in the living room,  just in front of the large window so that you get enough light and inspiration from the views outside. You also set the couch and the coffee table in front, as well as your new TV. Half an hour later Sara leaves indeed for the gym, leaving you all alone for the first time in your newest apartment. That’s when it hits you and you grab your phone. The messages you sent to Toto, still unanswered and it’s been a long time since he’s read them. You decide to give him a call. You press his phone number and wait for him to pick up. You hear one, then two, then three rings and then it goes straight to voicemail. You hear his voice that you haven’t heard since Sunday. The phone rang but it went to voicemail which means that he’s declining your call. You try once again, the same thing. You get it, he’s probably angry with the whole thing but if he doesn’t want to talk to you nor do you. Instead of overthinking it you throw yourself back at moving. You blast some Taylor Swift on the speakers that you connected first thing as you entered the loft, and drop a huge box of books in front of you which you put on the built-in shelves in the living room. You use your ladder to fill the upper shelves that you cannot reach by yourself. You keep dancing, moving things, chairs, couches and tables. At some point you hear the door knocking. You turn the music off and run to the door. 
“Who is it?” you ask and you hear a voice from the outside of the door
“I live downstairs and I wanted to let you know that it’s quiet time now, you are annoying us with all that music and moving things.” the voice says. You feel very embarrassed about what you did and the last thing you want is to piss your neighbor off so you decide to open the door and apologize. But when you do you freeze. 
“Toto?” you say and he looks at you, his eyes wide as if he just saw something unbelievable 
“What are you doing here ?” he asks
“This is my new apartment in Monaco, I was just moving in.”
“You’re joking.” he says
“Do you actually live downstairs?” you ask thrilled
“I do yeah, I live on the fifth floor loft.” he says 
“How was England?” you ask and he looks at you. 
“Fine.” he replies, obviously bothered.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, I texted you this morning but you didn’t reply.” you say “I also tried calling but it went to voicemail.”
“Talk to me about what?” he asks acting like he doesn’t know
“About Marc Taylor. Toto, I know you’ve seen it, it’s all over the internet.” 
“I mean what would you possibly have to say about Marc Taylor? It’s a shared secret that you’ve been wanting him since high school, everyone in Monaco knows it. You must be over the moon though. Handsome, rich, young and charming. Everything you’re looking for.” 
“You have to believe me Toto.” 
“Believe you about what? You clearly wanted the guy since forever so why not give in?”
“You fucking know that the whole thing is fake.”
“There are pictures,” he says, keeping calm. 
“You know how it fucking is Toto, those reporters only take whatever they think will make people engage more with their stories. They only caught the kiss but after that I told him that there is someone else in my life.”
“I wouldn’t know. I am not the one going around boat parties in Monaco and kissing strangers.”
“Just admit you are jealous.” you say
“Now you know what? I find it really pretentious that you get to be angry with the whole Cynthia thing and I am suddenly overreacting to seeing you kiss other guys.”
“It is not the same.” 
“No, it is exactly the same and your position is way worse than mine because me and Cynthia haven’t seen each other since this thing started.” he says
“Well, it’s not like this “thing” is something exclusive so I can see and kiss whomever I want.” you say 
Toto turns and looks at you and this is the first time you see a kind of hurt in his eyes
“Do you ever shut up Horner?” he asks
“I’ve told you before, only if I am made.” you say and look at him 
Hearing these words probably makes a bell in Toto’s head ring because the next thing he does is to grab you by both hands and pin you against the wall like he did the first time he kissed you. He looks down at you as you look up at him and he leans in to kiss you but you push him just a little and grab his hand. You put it against your neck and once he gets the memo he applies a little pressure that makes you go crazy. He kisses you slowly and you kiss him back in enjoyment. A few seconds later he grabs you and runs into the hallway searching for your bedroom. Once he finds the bedroom with the queen size bed he rushes and pushes you to the bed. You lie on your back looking at him. The power that this man holds, you think. You slowly begin to undress him, freeing him of his gray sweatpants and leaving him only with his boxers on seeing him growing hard as he looks at you. 
“Is the bed new?” he asks and you nod
“What a way to use it for the first time huh?” you say and he laughs 
“Let me tell you something Horner, I don’t want you anywhere near me with a red bull shirt ever again” he says and he strips you off of the red bull shirt “It’s the biggest turn off.” 
“I can see it” you tease him. At first he seems pissed off but then he takes your sweats off and then he does the same with his T-Shirt. 
“Enough talking” he says and he leans in for a kiss which you deepen immediately. He leans in on you and you push him towards you from his neck as he stabilizes himself by putting one of his knees between your thighs. You feel the intrusive thought in your brain and you grind yourself on his knee
“Much needy I see ?" he asks and you do nothing but look at him 
“Can’t resist mister Wolff” you say 
“As you should miss Horner.” he replies and his hand moves to your chest while he starts kissing you on your neck. You feel him leaving hot trails of kisses on you as his hand cups your breast. Well he certainly has a way of doing things. His kisses leave you wanting more, needing more so to make yourself feel good you move your hips against him once again and you can feel him laugh against your skin as he moves his hand against your panties 
“So wet already” he whispers to your ear sending shivers down your spine “Does he also do that to you?” he asks clearly, talking about Marc. You shake your head as the words were kind of hard to come off your mouth 
“Use your words baby” he says 
“No, he does not” you say while your breathing is getting heavier
“Is he better?” he asks and you shake your head once again. 
“Toto please, I need you.” you say and he obeys to your plea.
He removes his briefs and pushes your panties to the side as he enters inside you. It feels good. Better than it had in Jeddah. You gasp at the move and you dig your nails on his back as he kisses you. He suddenly grabs your hands and removes them from his back while thrusting in and out in a slow but great way. 
“No touching today.” he says and holds your hands over your head with his strong grip. He keeps moving as you let small moans escape and you feel like you’re in another word. You want to touch him as well and right the time that he loosens his grip on you you try to move your hands but his grip gets stronger and smashes your hands back to the place they first were. You complain for a while but he makes you feel so good that this is the last thing you care about. 
“You’re so good love. Always feeling so good.” the pauses between his words are getting bigger, showing that he’s feeling as good as he does. “Good god.” he says once again and you laugh at him. He keeps going strong though, changing the tempo of his thrusts, hitting and touching all the correct places. You feel getting closer and closer to your climax but instead of laying calm you start leaving kisses on his chest. 
“You make me feel so good.” you say “Fuck Toto, you’re so good. God no you’re perfect.” 
“Are you close?” he asks 
“Yeah” you say and you gasp “You?”
“Very” he says in between his grunts. Some minutes later you come first and he follows you shortly after while repeating your name.
Right after that both of you lay naked on your new bed. Toto is caressing your hair as you are laying on his chest listening to his heartbeat. He breaks the silence first 
“Are we good?” he asks
“I am good” you reply
“I am talking about our fight.” he says
“Oh I thought that it was established when you were repeating my name while having sex with me.” 
 “You’re right.” he says and stares outside the window while the sun is setting. Both of you sit in silence for a minute or two until you break it
“He’s not better.” you say 
“Huh?” 
“Marc Taylor. He’s not better than you. It was nothing but a kiss, Toto.” you tell him “And yes, he might be a European billionaire’s son and he might as well be hot and charming but you are also all those things, which surprise, happen to be everything I seem to look for in a man. But I need you to know Toto, in my eyes you are more charming and hotter than him. I would give Marc Taylor up for you but I wouldn’t give up you for Marc Taylor.” you tell him and you look up at him while he’s staring at you, clearly paying attention to what you were telling him. 
“Thank you.” he says 
You keep laying there and by the time the sun sets you are already asleep. You wake up an hour later and you see Toto is also taking a nap. You nudge him and he wakes up. 
“What is it ?” he says being somewhere between asleep and awake
“Nothing, we just fell asleep here.” you say
“You’ve got a nice bed. Good choice.” he says
“I know but I have to get up to finish the rest of the apartment.”
“No one is helping you?” he asks
“Sara was here until she abandoned me to go to her gym session. Now I have to do this all by myself.” 
“You know you don’t have to do all of it today right? You are going to be exhausted. Plus I can also help you with unpacking.” 
“No, you probably have work to do. I’ll do them by myself and tomorrow Sara will be here to help me” 
“Who is Sara?”
“My best friend. She’s the one that found this apartment for me” you tell him
“So she’s the one that I have to thank?” he asks and you nod while laughing. 
“You will meet her as soon as I get back to Red Bull.” 
“Which is going to be when?” he asks
“I know you want to get rid of me but I don’t have any information yet. Beth usually sends me my schedule the week before each grand prix and judging by the fact that she didn’t send it until now, I think this won’t be the weekend you are looking forward to.” 
“Maybe you should start packing your things for Baku.” he says
“I don’t have anything to do there.”
“Come on, I told people Mindy Rosevelt will hang with us for a while longer.” 
“Second race at Mercedes?” you ask excitedly
“The Ritz in Baku has already been informed that we would like an extra suite.” 
“Toto, a suite? Again?” 
“You always need a suite, love.” 
“Do you have plans for Baku?” you ask
“How about we go to the paddock together, you sleep in my suite and you help us during the race?”
“So you only want me to be there to tell you about Red Bull’s strategies so you can win?” you say playing offended
“I only want you to be there because you make it easier for me to focus when you are next to me rather than in the garage next to ours. And because I want you in general.” he says
“That’s a good excuse.” you tell him 
“After all, even if it was only for the strategy part, you should remember that all’s fair in war.” 
“And love.” you say 
“That also” he replies 
“When are we leaving?” 
“Wednesday night, with my jet from Nice airport.” 
“Good.” you say
“Put some clothes on, we are going to unpack the rest of the boxes.” he says 
“Yes sir.” you say
“Sir huh? Remind me of that the next time I am laying in bed with you” he tells you and you laugh as you stand up to put some clothes on.  For the rest of the evening you and Toto unpack the boxes that you and Sara left. Both of you laugh as he makes fun of your music taste. He even dared to make fun of  Taylor Swift, which you did not take lightly but still forgave him when he danced with you in the living room of your new apartment and when you both watched the harbor from the balcony. It is almost midnight when he decides he has to go. 
“Why do you have to go now?” you ask
“The apartment is almost ready, Sara can help you set up the last box and I have to work tomorrow, unlike you.” 
“You are literally working from home and your home is downstairs, why can’t you stay for the night and leave tomorrow night?” you complain
“Because this is your apartment, your space. You have to spend the night alone to get used to the feeling.”
“I’ve lived alone before, I know how it is.”
“Yes but now it’s different, you'll see.”
“Can’t it be different with you here?” 
“It can, but I am positive you will be better off alone for this night.” he says “We won’t be lost after all, I will be downstairs, you can call me any time.” 
“Okay” you tell him “Can I kiss you goodnight?” you ask
“What happened to you? You are too expressive!” he says
“I know, you are not used to it.” 
“No, I am used to you being expressive, just not very emotional.” 
“Changed state of mind” you say 
“I like it.” he says “And to answer your question” he leans in and kisses you deeply “I was going to do it anyways.” 
You smile at the gesture “Goodnight Toto.” you say 
“Goodnight love.” he replies and he leaves. 
You close the door and walk straight to bed where you immediately fall asleep. 
The next day you text Sara and she drops by for a morning coffee in your new balcony. As soon as she enters the loft she looks around. 
“Wow Horner, did you get any sleep?” she asks
“I actually did.” 
“How did you unpack all of those boxes by yourself?” 
“I didn’t do it by myself” you tell her 
“Omg, who did you invite?” 
“No one, a neighbor helped me.” 
“Oh, you’ve already met your neighbors? That’s crazy. Are any of them hot?”
“Yeah I met one of them because he wanted to complain about the noise. And yeah, he was hot. In fact for me he is one of the hottest.” 
“What happened to Miss Toto Wolff is the hottest man on earth? Did she disappear?” 
“No she didn’t, because actually Toto Wolff IS the freaking neighbor.” 
“What the hell?” she asks “Girl I need coffee and Monte Carlo air STAT.”
You make her coffee and your tea and go to the balcony where you sit on a big white table. 
“Turns out Wolff is my freaking neighbor. He’s living downstairs and he heard the noise during quiet hours so he decided to give me a notice.” 
“But when he saw you he forgot what he noticed” she says
“No actually he did make the notice and then we pretty much fought for Marc, ended up having sex, had a nap and then unpacked all of my boxes. We danced together in the living room and then he left because he had to work today.” 
“You used the bed for the first time to have make up sex with Wolff?” she asks
“I pretty much did yeah” you tell her
“You are crazier than I thought you were.” she says 
“I am crazier than I thought I were” you say 
You tell her everything that happened yesterday night as both of you drink your beverages watching the view from your balcony. Later on Sara helps you unpack the last box and your apartment is finally set.  The next few days you pass your time by hanging out with Sara and your other best friends who happen to be in Monaco. Toto drops by some days and you two hang out for some hours until one day you finally ask him for a Mercedes project to work on so you can spend your time by being more productive. Days pass and it’s finally Wednesday morning when you are actually packing your clothes for Baku. You take mostly summer clothes even though you won’t be able to wear any of the to the paddock. You also take your extra Mercedes shirts and pants as well as Toto’s Mercedes shirt. You make sure everything is there. After that you call Sara to drop by so that you can say goodbye to her and spend the rest of the day alone at the apartment until Toto knocks the door to let you know that your driver has arrived and is ready to take you to Nice to finally fly to Baku.  A car ride and a flight later you and Toto land in Azerbaijan. Both of you wait in the jet until the car is ready to take you from the plane to the hotel. At that time the cockpit door opens and you take a look inside. The pilot who goes out of the cockpit is not Mike. You raise your eyebrow at this and you look at the door more intensely for Toto to notice.
“What are you looking at?” he asks looking up from his phone
“Our pilot.” you say 
“What about him, are you not satisfied?” he asks
“No, I am. But the question is, where is Mike?”
“He’s on leave, why?” 
“Just wondering”
“Why would you care about him?”
“Because I like him” 
“Noted” he says and turns back to his phone without speaking
“Are you jealous Wolff?” you ask
“No” 
“Are you sure?”
“End of discussion” he says and you laugh
“Okay sir.” you tell him 
After that the crew opens the door and you get off the plane. You already made sure that you have your mask on you so people won’t recognize you. Back to the same old ways. You take a ride to the hotel and you walk straight to your suite in which some other Mercedes employee checked you in before you arrived. Toto goes back to his own suite even though he asked you to hang out with him instead. You settle down in your suite and check Toto's schedule for the weekend
13:30-14:00: Press conference
14:10-14:50: F1 Team Principal Meeting
14:50-16:00: Coffee Break
16:00-17:00: Team Meeting
18:00-20:00: Business meeting
20:30: Dinner  
You open your phone and text Toto
You
I’ve been taking a look at your schedule, is everything to your agreement?
 Wolff
Yes, all is checked and approved 
You
Good to know. By what I'm seeing, it’s going to be a full day. I mean press, team meetings and business meetings
Wolff
Oh is it actually on my schedule?
You
The business meeting? Yeah it’s tabbed in from 18:00 to 20:00. Should I remove it, is it wrong?
Wolff
No, let them believe that I’m busy during that time.I have already planned something. It’s not a business meeting, it is supposed to be a meeting for us two but I told Brad that I will be busy so I guess he thought it was business related
You 
Oh, so I am busy  from 18:00 to 20:00 too? What are we going to do ?
Wolff
 I would let you be curious but we are supposed to go to a boat trip in the Caspian. I’ve chartered a boat for a couple of hours and then we will be having dinner too, so please do not wear high heels.
You 
Oh I love boat trips so no high heels 
It’s not like I could put heels on though, I will be dressed in the Merc gear all day long
Wolff
Well pack another outfit but still no high heels
You 
Okay then.  I guess I’ll see you later?
Wolff
Tomorrow
You switch your phone off and fall asleep for a few hours. It’s already early in the morning since you left Nice at night and the flight lasted a long time but thank god you didn’t have to be at the paddock until noon. You wake up at 11 and order some breakfast. You get ready and phone Toto to let him know you are ready. 10 minutes later you are on your way there in his black AMG SUV and you see the fans taking photos of the car. Well it’s Toto they’re taking pictures of since they have no idea about who you actually are. You get out of the car and go to Merc’s hospitality. You wave Toto goodbye and you go to your office while he’s off to his. Later on you hear a knock at your door. 
“Who is this?” you ask
“Mindy, it’s Lewis.” you hear a voice 
You stand up and put your mask on before opening the door. Better safe than sorry. When you open the door you see that it’s indeed Lewis so you welcome him in. You take off your mask and sit on the little couch
“How is it going?” he asks
“Everything’s good, thank you. How are you?” 
“Good. You know how it is. Just running around, trying to keep up with everything.”
“Lewis Hamilton trying to keep up? I am pretty sure everyone is trying to keep up with you, not you with them.”
“Well yeah, when it comes to F1 it’s pretty much how you say it is. But in real life I have so many things to keep up with.” 
“I bet you do. Like I am pretty sure you are flying to New York as soon as the race ends.”
“I am. Met Gala.” he says and you laugh
“So you won’t be here for post race celebrations if you win. I guess I should hand the win to George this time, or maybe let Red Bull win.” 
“Don’t you dare” 
“I won’t Lew, you know you’re my fav. But if you want to secure the win, I need to get in the Met next year.” “Deal.” he says
“Oh god Lewis, I was only joking.” 
“I know, but I am pretty sure that I can land you an invitation.”
“We’ll see until next year.” you tell him “Is Roscoes coming to the gala?” 
“No, I am actually sending him back to Monaco for the week and then he’ll be with me in Miami.”
“Where is he going to stay in Monaco?” 
“At the pet hotel.”
“Why don’t you leave him with me ?” 
“In Monaco?” he asks
“I live there now” 
“You do? I can leave him with you, of course.”
“If you don’t fully trust me I can ask Toto for his help. We live in the same building.” “I have so many questions about this but I have to go. It’s gym time.” he says
“We can figure out the logistics about Roscoe later. Have a good session Lewis.”  you tell him before he leaves the office 
For the next hour or so you hang out in your office all alone and when it is time you leave the hospitality center to accompany him to the press conference. Just when you are outside the press conference center you see Christian and by his side a really familiar face that you cannot remember. You take another look at her while Toto stops dead in his tracks. 
“What?” you ask him and he looks confused. You take a look for a third time. You see a familiar girl dressed in Red Bull gear talking to Christian. It’s then when it clicks. The girl is Cynthia. Cynthia Jones dressed in Red Bull speaking to Christian. What the heck is this about? You can feel the anger rising to your chest
“Breathe” you hear him say
“That’s too far” you tell him 
“It’s crazy.” he says “Go talk to her, find out what this is all about.” 
“I will" you say
“Just be careful not to reveal too many things" 
“Of course" 
Toto glances at his watch. 12:55 
“I should get going, press is starting in 5" 
“Okay, I'll see you later" you tell him and he nods “Do you wanna meet here?"
“I’ll be straight off to the TP meeting. I will see you during the coffee break, okay?”
“Okay” 
“Try to find out what Cynthia is doing here.” he says 
“I will” you tell him and you smile
“And if you are too angry about what you find out, I have some files you can take a look at while you’re waiting.”
“Okay” you say and you leave him. You spot Cynthia hanging out outside the press center and you decide to approach her
“Hello.” you tell her
“Hi” she replies and smiles “Oh, you’re Mindy right? The girl who gave us the Mercedes tour in Jeddah?” 
“Yup, that’s me.” maybe not “What are you doing here?” you ask her
“I landed a job in Red Bull Racing. Isn’t it crazy?” she says 
“Oh definitely. You went from visiting the paddock to actually working here, congrats!” you try to play excited when you are actually fuming
“It was meant to be. I landed the job when I was visiting the paddock in Jeddah.”
“How come?” 
“Christian Horner met us at the paddock club and he asked what we were doing. Once I told him about my studies in management he asked to see me in person and then he proposed this job.”
“What’s your position?” 
“For what I’ve understood, I am currently sort of  replacing Christian’s daughter while I am also acting like his PA.”
“Oh so management?” 
“It’s still too early for that title and I definitely don’t have that much freedom as an executive does. I am thinking it more like an internship in management while also being a personal assistant to Christian.” 
“Oh Christian” you say and you roll your eyes 
“He’s not as bad as everyone thinks he is.” she says “He might actually be better than Toto” 
“Yeah, nah” you tell her “Toto is actually definitely more human-ish than Christian.” 
“And how would you know? Have you ever worked with Christian?” she asks jokingly. If only she knew
“No but judging from the paddock rumors he seems to be a tough one to handle.”
“Absolutely not. He is really kind and funny. Really chill type. He made me call him by his name since day 1. It’s really like we’re friends.”
“That’s really good for you.” you say
“What about Toto?” she asks. As if she would let it go 
“Mr. Wolff is really nice.” 
“You’re not calling him Toto?”
“No, he prefers to keep things professional. He’s more into being formal and things.”
“Must be boring” she says
“It’s pretty good for now and I’m always guessing, familiarity might be a little too much at some point.” 
“Christian has been saying this about his daughter.”
“He has?” you ask slightly nervously
“Yeah, he said that working with family might be a little too overwhelming at some point.”
“Well he’s kinda right. Did he say why she left?”
“From what I’ve taken they decided that she should take a break and she’s currently hanging out in Monaco in her new apartment. He’s thinking of taking her back by the Monaco Grand Prix but he’s not sure yet.” she tells you 
“Oh, well. Whatever suits them best.” 
“Yeah, we are not the ones to judge.” 
“Definitely not.” 
“It was really fun talking to you again Mindy. We should hang out sometime.” 
“Yeah definitely.”  It’s not like you slept with the man I am sleeping with. you think 
You wave at her and leave the press center to wait until Toto finishes his morning tasks. You open the F1TV stream and watch his interview. When Will starts asking a question to Franz Tost you decide to text Toto about your findings. 
You
Turns out Cynthia Jones is staying in my life for good cause apparently Christian hired her in my position during the Saudi GP. And I wasn’t even out of the team for a week 
You see him holding his phone and taking a glance at it while Franz is speaking. He rolls his eyes and puts the phone back in his pocket. You stay once again in your office, going through Toto’s schedule for the weekend and looking at your socials. Some time later your phone rings 
Wolff
She’s going to make our lives hard but it's very typical of Christian to hire someone from the first day that you left 
You
She even proposed that we should hang out
Wolff
If only she knew 
You 
That’s what I said
Wolff
She was waiting outside the press center for Christian and now they’re both in front of me walking to the TP meeting. She’s talking and Christian is laughing like he’s having the time of his life
You 
I figured she’s that type of assistant cause according to her she and Christian are practically besties now. It’s going to be a good one when I get back to rb
Wolff
Remind me to mount a secret mic and camera on you when that happens cause I want to see the Horner-Jones fight. 
You
I bet you she’s going to regret the day she agreed to that position
Wolff
Whoa, too aggressive. How about checking some data before the coffee break cause rumor has it that you love reading data and commenting on them 
You 
Anything to get her off my mind and anything for you Mr. Wolff
Wolff
I’m flattered. There’s a file in your email waiting for your comments and questions. Bet Bono is going to be thrilled. I am off to the meeting, see you soon.
After Toto’s messages you check your email to take a look at the file he sent you. It’s full of data and details about this year’s rocketship. It is then when it hits you. The data are from the simulator and the track they’ve been using is Barcelona. In Red Bull you always used to run simulations in Barcelona so you have the exact same data from your ex team. You open them and start comparing them and finding where Mercedes lacks compared to Red Bull. You also open Adrian’s and GP’s essays on car performances and start noting any questions or things you’ve noticed. You really hope Toto will actually use them in his meeting with Bono and James. However, you keep all of the comparisons to yourself. You are not sure Toto is in favor of cheating so you will probably announce it to him later during the coffee break. You make a new file and email it to his account.  Later on you hear a knock on your door. 
“It’s Toto” you can hear him say and you unlock the door for him to enter. 
“Hey.” you say
“Hi, how are you feeling?” he asks
“I am good. I read all the data and I relaxed so much.” 
“Well, I, on the other hand, almost had a fight with Christian.” 
“Why?” you ask
“Because he was being a douchebag.” 
“Nah, he was just being Christian” you tell him and he laughs
“Was the data any good?” 
“Yeah, I also emailed you my questions and stuff.” 
“Oh, I will be forwarding them to James and Bono.” 
“Speaking of the data, I saw they were sim data from Barcelona.” 
“We use Barcelona almost every time for our simulations.” 
“Well, it turns out, Red Bull does too.” you tell him and he looks at you, suggests to keep talking “I have the comparisons fully made here. There’s also an excel file with all the lacks and the sections Red Bull might present an advantage.” 
“This is interesting.”
“I know Toto. But the thing is, I didn’t email those to you because I didn’t know if you wanted to have access to all that information.” 
“I totally get it.”
“You should understand that this is confidential, but if you decide you want it, it will be in your inbox right away.” 
“This file can affect the whole development path for us.” he says
“I know, that’s why I kept it.” 
“You should keep it for yourself.”
“I swear I won’t give this to Red Bull.”
“I trust that you won’t” he says
“I will always have it at hand if you want to use it though. Anything for Mr. Wolff” you say and both of you laugh
“Thank you.” he says “Do you want some coffee and a snack? It’s coffee break after all.” 
“No, thank you. You can leave this tiny office and enjoy your coffee in your office. I feel bad for keeping you here.” 
“I am only hanging out here because I want to.” he says “But I’ll leave you alone. We’ll have enough time tonight.” 
“Of course.” you smile at him
“Meet you after the team meeting ?”
“I will be waiting.” 
Once Toto leaves for his coffee break and the team meeting later you decide to go out and see the track. There are some bikes available at the hospitality center so you grab one and ride at the track of Baku. You see other people doing the same thing, some of the drivers are also doing their track walks. At some point you spot Max. It’s been a while since you talked considering the fact that you didn’t even see him in Jeddah but you kept texting during that time. When you spot him it is in your impulse that you almost yell at him to go and talk to him. When you remember that you are actually supposed to be an unbothered Mercedes employee you change your mind, and as you are caught up in your thoughts you almost lose your balance. Thankfully you save it before you find yourself in the ground or the barriers and you keep your direction and finish your lap. 6 km later you are back in your office, thankfully not sweaty since you took your time to circle the track, and you also have a cup of tea and a chocolate bun as a snack. You take a bite as you see today’s headlines from the Media day and you also take a look at some market news. After a while Toto texts again
Wolff
Just finished asking all of your questions to the mechanics and they were impressed to say the least because they managed to assess some really important things for the race
You 
Next time I should be present in those meetings
Wolff 
I will personally make sure of it. We will be done in 25, I’ll pick you up. Don’t be late
Those 25 minutes pass by quite fast and you don't realize until Toto is knocking at your door. Thankfully you packed your stuff earlier so Toto cannot complain about you being late. 
“I am impressed.” 
“I didn’t actually understand how fast the time passed. Thank god I had my things packed.”
“That’s why I texted you earlier.” he says
“Yeah but you cannot complain now.” you reply
“No, the truth is I cannot.”
“Are we going straight to the boat?” you ask
“Yes, that’s why I told you to pack another outfit. Tell me you didn’t forget”
“I did not” 
“Good. Now get your stuff, we are leaving.” After that both of you leave the track and go to the boat Toto has chartered for a couple of hours. He helps you hop on the boat and he does the same
“Are you going to drive this?” you ask
“Are you scared?” 
“It depends on whether you are driving this thing or not”
“I am driving” 
“Are you allowed to do this?” 
“You are shitting yourself” he laughs
“Yeah because if we drown, imagine the headlines people will write.”
“We’ll be the next Rose and Jack.” he says
“Yeah, almost.”
“Just so you know, I am fully capable of navigating the boat.” 
“For real?”
“I have a sailing license.”
“Is there anything you can’t do ?” 
“Think straight when you’re with me.”
“Very funny.”
“It’s true.” he says and you take a look around and see people walking up and down the harbor  “What about finally leaving? We’re going to miss the sunset if we take any longer.”
“Let’s go” he sails and he undocks the boat. 
The two of you sail in the Caspian leaving the Baku port behind you. Toto is making sure that everything he does is safe, occasionally checking on the radar to see whether there are other boats in close proximity. You sit by his side and snap a couple of pictures of  him while he’s driving the boat. He looks absolutely stunning. It’s already late afternoon, 19:00-ish and the sky is starting to get sweeter, indicative of the sunset later on. When you are finally out of the waters in a space that is far enough from the shore but close enough so you can distinguish the structures of the city, Toto drops the anchor and stops the boat there. “That’s quite a nice view.” you say 
“I figured you would like it” he says and comes to your side 
“You can actually see the whole city from here.”
“I figured that since we are not able to see the city together on foot, maybe this is the second best option.”
“It is. Although I would have loved a nice walk and a tour of the old city.”
“I would have loved that too.” he says as you keep looking at the city behind you and puts his hand on your lower back. 
“This right here, is the Maiden Tower," Toto points at a tower and your gaze follows his finger
“Legend has it that a young princess jumped from the top and ended her life because her father wouldn’t accept the man she loved."
“Hope I won’t end up this way.”
“God, I hope not.” he laughs and you shift your gaze to the two largest towers in the scenery
“The flame towers.” 
“I know them Toto, I’ve been coming to Baku for a while.” 
“Let me give you a tour, Horner. Don’t be shit.” he says and you smile
“Go on then.”
“The flame towers were finished in 2012. The building is a little less than 200 meters and it has a double purpose. In the first tower there are a lot of offices and apartments and in the second tower there’s a hotel.”
“What are they supposed to mean?” 
“They are meant to symbolize the eternal spirit of Azerbaijan and the country's enduring strength and resilience. Plus the whole flame design idea came from an Ancient Azerbaijani tradition of fire worshiping.”
“I love them, they look so pretty.” 
“And right beside there’s the crystal hall.”
“Never heard of it” you say 
“Eurovision was hosted there in 2012.” 
“Wait, how do you know, are you a fan ?” you ask him 
“No, I hate Eurovision.” 
“What?!” you say surprised. “You’re European, you cannot hate eurovision.” 
“I can, and I do.” 
“But why?” 
“Because it’s kitsch”
“It’s not kitsch, it’s camp, everyone loves camp.”
“It’s kitsch and I hate it, move on.” he says
“I cannot wait for the day that I will make you watch it.”
“I’d rather Christian find out about us.” 
“That’s a bold one” you tell him
“Last but not least, the fortress.” he says ignoring you and points to it
“I’ve seen the fortress, I took a ride at the track today.” 
“How did you like it?” 
“It’s so pretty, but it’s prettier from the sea. And much more interesting when you talk to me about it.”
“Hm” he says and he puts an arm around you 
“How did you learn all those things?” you ask
“I read a lot, even if I don’t have time to see the sights, I like to read about them, get to know the story of the city that I am in.” 
“That’s fair. I was wondering because I’ve been here like five times and I’ve never gotten past the name of each sight here.” 
“That’s good because you can for once, not talk and let me show you around.”
“You’re the best tour guide I’ve ever had.” you smile at him and you leave a kiss on his cheek. 
During the next hour you stay on the boat in the Caspian and see the sun set on the horizon. You take a look at the flame towers which reflect the orange and pink lights of the sunset. You snap some pictures of the scenery as well as Toto who is sitting carelessly in the boat with his white linen shirt and his sunglasses on. He also snaps some pictures of you from both yours and his phone and you also take some selfies. You immediately set the best picture of him as his contact picture and once you are done with the whole photo thing you get back to where Toto is currently sitting and relax with him for a little while longer. You two soak in the views without talking much. As it starts to get darker Toto drives the boat back to the harbor where you dock and leave to get to the hotel. Both you and Toto enter the elevator to get to your suites
“You’re coming over for dinner right?” he asks
“Well, I was thinking of getting some sleep for tomorrow.” 
“Come on, I’ve already asked roomservice to have our table set.”
“Now I can’t say no.” you tell him and smile at him. When the elevator gets to your floor you walk out and follow him to the door of his suite. You enter first and he follows and the smell of food hits your senses.
“It smells fantastic.” you say
“It’s traditional Azerbaijani cuisine.”
“I love it. We should have tried the Saudi Arabian foods as well.”
“Well, nothing can go wrong with Italian.” he says
“Then why didn’t we order Italian” you tease him
“Because I wanted to immerse myself in the Azerbaijani culture today.”
“Is it a part of the guided tour?” 
“Well, couldn’t it be?” he says “Since I’ve already given you a sight tour, I am ready to give you a culinary tour as well” he tells you as he pulls the chair off the table so that you can take your seat
“Thank you.” you tell him and you sit down as he walks back to his side of the table and sits down
“This is called Dolma.” he says as he leaves one of them on your plate “It is grape leaves with a filling of minced lamb with rice and some herbs.” 
“Interesting” you say as you take a look at the plates on the table “Oh god, is this kebab?”
“You know kebab?” he asks
“Literally everyone knows what kebab is Toto, it’s not a secret. It’s actually one of my favorite street foods.” 
“It is really good.” he tells you as he grabs a bite of it “You should also try out the pilaf” 
You take a look at it “What is this?” 
“It’s something like a risotto I guess” 
“I thought you knew the exact recipe of every single plate” you tease him
“Apparently I don’t, I just took a look at the menu and chose what I thought was best.” 
“Everything looks delicious though.” you tell him
“Wait until Miami. We’re going to eat some great burgers there.” 
“Speaking of which, I am not sure that I will be in Miami”
“Why ?” 
“Because it was cringe enough last year, I won’t submit myself  to that whole cringe fest again.” 
“You will be coming.” 
“Says who?” 
“Me” he replies and you sit there taking another bite of your amazing food, slightly annoyed . When he realizes that what he said made you angry he talks again. “Look, it is really important that you should be there. It is supposed to be your home race, we’ve told everyone that you are American, if you are only staying for a few more races it will be weird if you are not present for the only time you will get to go to a race in your country with the team.”
“No one will remember Toto.”
“People will remember. We have a list of each race in which we note whose home race it is. And by what I’ve seen you are already on the list.” 
“I didn’t write my name anywhere.” 
“I am pretty sure Bradley did. He probably remembers that you are American and just added you in.”
“And what about the home race list?” 
“We are kind of celebrating it by giving them less time to work during the weekend, or allowing them to bring their families in.”
“That’s so sweet though.” you say 
“I mean, people are important to us, they are not just workers, they are our companions.”
“I hate this team” you say and you see Toto lifting one eyebrow at you “I mean, I hate how much I already love it. How am I supposed to go back to Red Bull?”
“You can just stay in Mercedes.” 
“And say what to Christian?” 
“Tell him that his team is shit, his management is also shit and that you cannot grow in that shitty environment.”  
“He’ll find out that you told me to say that and then you will find yourself on the cover of Corriere dello Sport.” 
“Won’t be the first time.” he laughs “ Jokes aside, would you ever consider leaving Red Bull?” 
“Now I certainly do. I mean, I hadn’t seen anything aside from how Red Bull worked as a team and the race weekend at Saudi was eye opening.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I am already considering it, yes.”
“Will be nice to have you here one day, without hiding I mean.”
“I wasn’t talking about Mercedes. I am considering an offer at Ferrari.” you tell him jokingly and he almost chokes at his wine
“Where?” 
“Ferrari. It’s a really great team with a great legacy.”
“Ask them for a paddock pass for tomorrow then.” he says and you burst out laughing
“I am only joking.” you tell him “I would consider it if I had an offer from another team though.”
“We will always have a position available for you if you ever decide to leave that shithole.”  
“I’ll tell you when this happens.”
“There’s a when, not an if, that’s good.” 
“I know what’s best for me and I am slowly convincing myself it’s not Red Bull”
“Good.” he says and you two keep eating until you hear someone knocking on his door .
“I’ll be right back” Toto tells you and answers the door. You can hear him talking with someone, his voice is quite familiar. 
“Shov?What are you doing here?” 
“Do you have some time to see tomorrow’s practice program?” you can hear him say
“Um, I am actually a little busy.” 
“It will only take a second, you should only check and approve it.” 
“I fully trust you Andrew, I approve of it.”
“Good.” he says and he almost leaves “Are you having dinner with someone?”
“Yes, with Lewis, we are discussing contract extensions.” 
“Has he been here a long time?”
“An hour or so.” Toto tells him
“That’s funny, because 20 minutes earlier I was at the gym with Lewis.”
“Um…” 
“It’s okay Wolff, I hope you are having a good time with whomever you are hanging out with right now” he says and laughs “Hello unknown person who is having dinner with Toto.”  You hold your laugh until Toto says goodnight to him and he leaves the room. When you see Toto entering the room with his ‘I fucked up’ face, you burst out laughing and he joins you seconds later. “I hope he was not angry” you tell him 
“No he wasn’t angry, I am pretty sure he was thrilled about the whole thing. He’s been trying to get me someone to hang out with for ages.” 
“You are good mates huh?”
“He’s one of my closest friends, yes.” 
“And he still asks for your approval for the program he wants the team to follow tomorrow?” 
“Yeah, I’ve told him millions of times that it’s not necessary but he insists.”
“That’s so sweet of him.”
“I am only taking a look at it before approving it, it’s not like I pay that much attention, I fully trust him.” he tells you and you keep eating
“When are we leaving for Miami?” you ask
“We? I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I am, I also have to bring Roscoe with me, I promised Lewis that I will take care of him from Sunday till we get to Miami so that he doesn’t have to while he’s in New York for the Met.” 
“You promised Lewis that you will carry Roscoe all the way from Monaco to Miami?”
“That we will carry him, yes.” 
“How did I get involved in this? I don’t remember having any conversation about a dog.”
“I told him that I would take care of him and then I promised that you will help me since you’re now my neighbor. I figured you would know him a little better than I do. I mean Lewis brings him to the paddock almost every week.”
“And have you ever seen me with a dog in the paddock?” he asks
“No, but I thought you had a good relationship with him.”
“Me and Roscoe’s relationship is nonexistent, Horner.”
“Oh god, tell me you are afraid of Roscoes” you make fun of him
“I am thinking of leaving Nice on Thursday morning.” he says
“You are changing the subject.” 
“I am not, you asked me when I plan on leaving for Miami and I answered.” 
“Thursday huh? What about Media day?” 
“I’ll have Shov or either one of the two James to do it and we will be present for the Free practice.”
“Cool.” you tell him 
For the rest of the night you hang out together until you decide to leave.
“Will we be going to the paddock together?” 
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
“What’s the schedule for tomorrow? Hold up, let me check.” you tell him and grab your phone out of your pocket to take a look. “Oh you have a business meeting after FP1 which is supposed to last almost until the start of FP2. James is set to do the press.”
“I don’t remember having any business meetings. Who is it with?” 
You take a look at your phone reading the name which catches you completely off guard. You blink twice and take another look at it, still the same name. “Who planned this?” you ask
“I don’t know, I don’t remember planning anything for Saturday. Maybe Bradley did.” 
“This cannot be real.”
“It better not be Cynthia again.” 
“Who cares about her right now?” 
“Will you tell me who I am meeting tomorrow for whatever reason or am I going to this meeting unprepared?”
“The guy you hated last week, Marc Taylor?”
“Seriously?”  
“I am dead serious Toto, his name is here.” you tell him and show him the name on the schedule. “You are supposed to discuss sponsorship. Apparently the Taylor Group is interested in investing in F1” 
“This is going to be a hell of a meeting.” 
“This is going to be a disaster.” 
“Funny that both of the people from our past keep appearing in our ways.” 
“It’s not funny, it’s shit. Toto, promise me you will handle it gracefully.”
“Dear, I have nothing to be afraid of. You’ve proven to me who you’re always thinking of. It’s pure business. If he wants to invest and it favors the team then we shall cooperate.”  
You take a deep breath “That’s too much information and it’s already getting late. I am guessing I should get going.” 
“Won’t you stay for the night?”
“Nah, it’s quite early in the race weekend and I want you to focus tomorrow. Both for the testing sessions and the Marc thing.” 
“Okay, see you tomorrow?” 
“I am actually thinking that maybe I should skip FP1 since Marc will be around, I don’t want him finding out who I am.”
“Smart idea.”
“I am going to drive myself to the track and meet you for FP2” 
“Brunch at the track?” he asks
“Oh definitely.” you tell him and you kiss him goodbye as you go back to your suite. You don’t have anything to do so you decide to check your emails before going to sleep. You see a new message popping up the list From: Netflix, DTS
Miss Horner, we would like to schedule our next shooting with you for the newest season. Please let us know if and when you are available to be present at the track where the interviews take place.Kind Regards, The DTS Producers
You shrug and decide to answer From: Ms. Horner 
Hello and thank you for contacting me, I am currently taking some time off the team and I am not aware of which race weekend I will be back in the paddock. I  will however be happy to inform you as soon as I find out about my whereabouts within Red Bull. Regards, Miss Horner
You set your alarm at the same time Toto’s and Marc’s meeting is supposed to take place and then switch off your mobile and fall asleep. The next morning you wake up just in time to actually take a shower and get ready to go back to the track. You arrive there just in time for FP2. Everyone’s already in the garage so you decide to go there directly. As always, you see Toto sitting at the top of the fantasy island watching over the two garages. “Hello Mr. Wolff.”
“Oh, you’re here!” he says
“How did your meeting with Marco Barco go ?” you say and as soon as the words get out of your mouth you see Marc Taylor himself walking next to Toto with his headset on “How did you just call me?” he asks and you freeze, mainly because no one calls him like this except from you, the Horner you, not the Mindy Rosevelt you. “How did I call you?” 
“Did you call me Marco Barco?” he says and Toto looks at the both of you slightly confused
“I called you Marc. Just Marc.” you tell him
“Alright.” “Mindy, this is Marc Taylor, he’s the owner of our newest sponsor. We closed the deal earlier during our meeting.” 
“Mr. Taylor, I am so glad that we will have you around more from now on.”
“So am I, I am glad that I actually decided to go for my instinct and invest something in F1.”
“Absolutely.” 
A short minute after he asks
“Why are you still wearing a mask? Isn’t it bothering you?” 
“Oh no no, it does not. I am actually wearing it because I don’t want to catch any colds and lose my internship days.”
“I see. And where are you from? Mindy right?” By the questions he asks you are already sure that he is suspecting something
“Yes, I am from Boston, US and I ended up here as an intern from Daimler US.” you say and he answers “That’s really cool.” For the rest of the time you don’t interact, Toto isn’t involving in any of your talks and you know it’s because he fears that he’ll fuck this up more if he does. However, he still speaks to you and Marc separately and when he’s talking to Marc he shows off a little more confidence and certainty. It’s like he knows that he’s better than him, which he actually is and you’ve made it clear both that night in Monaco and yesterday after your dinner. The session finishes with the two red bulls on top, followed by the two Mercedes. “P3 and 4 isn’t bad but it’s not P1 and P2 either. I know we’re running similar engine mappings and we still need to be on top.” Toto says in his message to the mechanics.“I am sure we will be there by tomorrow.” you tell him “I should go grab some food because I haven’t eaten yet. I am sure I will see you around Mr. Taylor.” 
“I believe so.” 
“Marc and I are going to talk a little more and he’ll be off in a while. Talk to you later?” Toto says and winks on you while Marc is on his phone “Of course Mr Wolff. See you later.” you tell him and get back at the hospitality center where you get some food which you take to Toto’s office. You unlock the door with the set of keys he has given you and you set your tray at the table beside his office. You lock the door as you stay inside in order to surprise him. After some time you can hear footsteps approaching and the door handle moves but the door doesn’t open“Oh it is locked.” you can hear Toto say and the next thing you can hear is his keys on the lock. He opens the door and just as he enters the office you speak “I thought we should have brunch together.” The man who enters the room stops dead in his tracks. Of fucking course it’s Marc, followed by Toto who is gesturing something to someone in the hallway. Toto stops and looks at you. Marc speaks first “Horner, what are you doing there?” he asks “Shush Taylor, they’re going to hear you.”  
“Why are you sitting in Toto’s office dressed in Merc gear?” 
“Ummm” you say and you pause to think “F1 made us have team principal meetings like this in order to boost our relationship” you tell him, not a good excuse. In fact it’s a terrible excuse. “What kind of bullshit do you think you’re selling to me?” Marc asks. Toto is just behind him shaking his head “There’s no point in trying to lie to him.” 
“Isn’t there?” you ask and at the same time Marc is taking a look at you. “You’re Mindy? I figured something was wrong here.” 
“Look, I need you to shut your mouth about this. No one can know.” 
“Why are you here in the first place?” he asks “Christian shut her out of the team for an unknown period of time and she wanted to have access to the paddock without paying herself.” Toto says. “Why didn’t you ask Franz to take you in his team for a while?”
“Because I didn’t want Christian involved in anything.”
“So you two guys had a fight? And what about Mercedes Toto, how is the team going to be safe with all of this.” 
Toto tries to explain the situation to Marc “She has already signed NDAs about the team, and I wouldn’t even take her in if i didn’t trust her.” You take a deep breath and Toto understands the position you are in so he decides to leave you and Marc alone for a second “Should I go fetch us something to drink?” 
“Yes please.” you tell him
“Why did you end up out of the team in the first place?” 
“I was late to a business meeting. You know how Christian is with them.” 
“And he threw you out. How long has this been going on ?” 
“Not long ago, the GP in Jeddah was my first one with Merc.” you say. Marc stays quiet for a while and his eyes spark with realization a minute or two later. “Oh god, it’s him, isn’t he?” 
“What?” you ask him. “The guy you’re heads over heels with? The situationship man! That’s why he’s the one you turned to for the paddock access and that’s why he gave it to you. You two are dating right?”
“Well yeah, it is him but I told you before, no one can know okay?” 
“Of course. How long have you been together?” 
“We are not together yet, we are just spending time.”
“Yeah right and he took you in his team because he’s just spending time with you.” he tells you and you laugh “I might not know him for a long time but I can tell who I am making deals with. He’s a very direct guy.” 
“I know he is.” 
“If it’s not me, he’s the next best option.” 
“That’s what I’ve been saying since this has been happening.” 
“I am happy for you, really.” 
“Thank you Marc.” you tell him.  Later on Toto comes back with your drinks and the three of you discuss for sometime. Later on and only after you’ve completed your duties for the day you wave Toto and Marc goodbye and go back to your hotel. You sit in your room, have an extra long video call with Sara in which you tell her everything about today and all the days you’ve been missing from Monaco and she texts you a photo from her balcony in Monaco which you post in your official instagram story in order to make everyone believe that you are actually there and not in Azerbaijan. You watch a bunch of drive to survive episodes to prepare for your upcoming interviews and then take a long relaxing shower. Before you even realize it is time for dinner and just as you were thinking of it you get a text 
Wolff
Are you coming over for dinner?
You 
Nah, I am actually thinking that maybe I should get some rest before tomorrow. I will be ordering something here instead
Wolff
Okay. I hope you are alright 
You 
Yes, all good but I would like to be excluded from tomorrow’s practice session. Only if I am not needed that is
Wolff
You are always needed but you are always working hard and think you deserve to have the session off
You
Thank you Toto, I won’t forget that ;)
Wolff 
I hope you won’t 
After your chat with Toto you decide to order some dinner in your room and after that you spend some time on your socials before going to bed. The next day you wake up early as you hear someone knocking at your door. Well, it’s not just someone, in fact, it is Lewis who is at your door and right by his side is his best friend, Roscoe. You were expecting them since Lewis told you he would bring Roscoe over to your suite before hitting the track for FP3 and now you are supposed to take care of him and bring him back to the paddock just before qualifying, when Angela will take over from you. “Good Morning. Were you sleeping?”
“I was yeah but I was planning to wake up either way.”
“This is my good boy Roscoe” he says and he kneels and pats his back “Good boy” he says. “He is adorable.” you tell him and you also kneel to pet him. “He might be a little shy at first, he just wants a lot of cuddling and playing. I am sure he will love you though.” 
“I hope he will, we will have to spend some time together before Miami.” 
“Toto mentioned that you didn’t want to come, did  you decide otherwise?” 
“I did yeah, we are planning to come on Friday so Roscoe will be there by then. When are you flying from New York?” 
“Thursday morning, I have media duties, I am not like you.” he laughs
“Well, I am not going to the Met either so I guess we are even.”
“Yeah right. Am I going to see you at qualifying?” 
“Of course, I plan on coming, I will bring Roscoe to you later.” 
“Good, see you then I guess.” 
“Bye Lewis.” you say as you wave him goodbye.  Roscoe and you enter your suite and you can see him running in his tiny feet trying to take in the space around him. You decide to take a shower but you leave the door open and as soon as you come out of the tub you find Roscoe sitting there waiting for you. For the rest of the time you play with his favorite toy that Lewis left you and he lies on your side as you take a look at the morning news. When the time comes, you get ready and hit the track once again but this time with Roscoe Hamilton on your side. You can see photographers taking pictures of you but you remain completely calm as your face mask and your hair hide your real identity and enter the Mercedes hospitality. You drop Roscoe off to Lewis’ suite where Angela takes over, and text Toto who you can clearly see from the garage that you’re currently sitting in. Toto is just outside making statements to broadcasting channels and companies ahead of qualifying and you are sitting there on the right side of his chair waiting for him to come back as soon as the broadcast of qualifying begins. The session is pretty good for the team, meaning Mercedes and the drivers manage to get P2 and P3. Max is sitting in P1 for tomorrow’s start, a brilliant lap from him you think. “2nd and 3rd are pretty good positions.” Toto says. “The only thing that scares me is Max in P1.” 
“We’ve got him, the setup for the race will be even better, Mick has been running the data from the analysis the engineers made based on your comments on the simulator and we’ve seen impressive lap times. We’ll get this for sure.”
“I never doubted their skills, I am sure they can even make the Williams work.” 
“They are not doing miracles, they are just engineers.” Toto says and you laugh “They had some good guidance, we wouldn’t have found the exact setup if it wasn’t for you.” 
“It’s just Saturday though. We will see tomorrow.” 
“You’re right.” he tells you “About tonight, you don’t have any plans right?” 
“Except for laying in bed as soon as I get back and ordering dinner I don’t plan on doing anything else.” 
“Dinner and movie then?” he asks and you nod  “Hitting the track together ?” you ask and he blinks a couple of times. “How come?” 
“Well, won’t I be sleeping in your suite tonight?” 
“I am surprised that you’re even proposing that.” 
“Well if you don’t want to, I have plenty of space in my suite, I will be sleeping all alone again.” 
“Okay, dinner and sleepover in my suite for tonight.”
“Will you be doing press?” you ask.“Only for an hour or so, after that I need you with me in the post qualifying meeting with the mechanics.” he tells you. “Where?” you ask surprised. “I need someone to write some notes down for me during that meeting so I figured you would want to join.”
“But-” you hesitate and he interrupts you before you can finish up your sentence “I don’t have any issue with you, I fully trust you.”
“I know, you’ve been quite vocal about it.” 
“Well, best believe it. Also, you won’t be there just for note taking, you can partake to the whole meeting with your points or ideas” 
“You cannot be serious.” you tell him. “I am as serious as it gets Horner. Wait for me outside your office in an hour.” Toto says as he waves at you and disappears from your sight. After an hour you find him outside your office. Both of you attend the post-quali meeting where you participate with a lot of questions about the performance of the car. At some point you also hear praise from Bono about the setup that you proposed. Well, he didn’t exactly give credit to you, since for him it’s nowhere near your job to give mechanical input about a car set up but he did say that whoever came up with the insights on the setup was a great help. The car was flying compared to the free practice yesterday. It turns out that you actually helped them and you now, more than ever, feel a part of a team that embraces you even if it isn’t directly said to your face. As soon as the meeting is done you and Toto go back to the hotel, wasting no time in the paddock. You get directly back to Toto’s suite where food is already served. The both of you eat and then you relax for a while on the couch
“I am so exhausted from today.” you tell him 
“Do you want to sleep?” he asks
“How about we watch a movie?” 
“You are going to sleep in the first 5 minutes” 
“I promise you I won’t” you tell him “Not if the movie is good anyways” 
“How about La La Land?” he asks and you look at him and burst into laughter. “You want to watch La La Land? Are you serious?” 
“I just happen to know that you love it.”
“Yeah but do you actually like it?” you ask. Toto clears his voice“Um, I haven’t watched it.” and you answer surprised “You cannot be serious.”
“I am. Whether you believe it or not, I don't watch such movies. Or any movies at all.”
“You are traveling 300 days out of 365 and you don’t watch movies? What do you do on the plane?”
“Read the news, sleep. It’s not that I don’t watch movies, it’s just that it is not on a regular basis.”
“I will make you a cinema fan, I swear. La La Land was game changing for me. That’s what we are going to watch. I don’t care if you don’t like musicals.” you say and you navigate in the TV menu to find the movie stream “Oh and by the way, if you haven’t watched Mamma Mia yet, I will get my ass off this suite and not talk to you until you watch it.”
“I have watched it and I can say that I actually liked it.”
“Aren’t you ashamed to say it Mr. Perfect Image?” you ask him. “Not to you. You clearly watch that kitsch fest that is Eurovision and love musicals so I am not the one to be ashamed here.” he says. “Hey!” you yell at him.“Just press play Horner.” he says and you follow his instructions. During the whole movie you can see he watches with pure interest, even during the songs which he doesn’t know he seems like he’s having fun. You are doing your part to keep him entertained, singing all the songs since this is probably your 50th rewatch. You make all the fun and smart remarks that you’ve seen on socials from other fans of the movie to keep him engaged. When the movie ends, during the epilogue scene and towards the end you can see him tensing, kind of trying to cover his emotions up. As the credits roll you turn to him.  “So? What do we think about one of the most amazing musicals made to this day?” 
“The ending” he says and pauses. “The ending what?” you ask him. “The ending was weird. Like it really made you believe that this could work but it actually was the ‘What could have been’ moment. It was kind of brutal.”
“Well, that was the intention. To show that two people had to let go of each other to achieve their dreams. It’s because they loved each other that they decided to do this. Now that I am thinking of it, it kind of is brutal, but it’s realistic. Life is brutal sometimes.”
“Do you analyze every movie that you see like this?” 
“Well, yeah? That’s the point of watching a movie, it’s not looking at beautiful pictures for three hours straight and then going to sleep.” 
“So you’re really passionate about it then.” 
“I am yeah.”
“It’s kind of nice that you find things that you really like and are so passionate about them” 
“You can also do it, you know. Being that one guy who’s obsessed with managing a team, finance and racing isn’t all you can ever be. You can have hobbies and other interests. I just think you are scared to break that flawless facade, which is funny because I genuinely believe that you are a man that is full of passion and you want to show it to people. You are afraid that if anyone outside of your safety bubble finds that you are human and not a well programmed robot that performs at its peak day in day out, your life will end. I know you try to be open about things that concern you and people around you, like how you’ve been speaking out about your mental health, but showing your real self can be hard for you but you should really try.” you tell him and he sits there just listening “How about we make this a thing? Movie night, once a week. Or more if you have more recommendations.”
“Am I about to turn you into a cinema noob?”
“Shut up.” he says and checks his watch that is resting on the arm of the couch you are currently sitting on. “How about going to sleep? We have to be at the paddock tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah sure.” you say and both of you walk off to the bedroom where you sleep until Toto’s alarm goes off. “Good Morning.” he says, his voice deeper than usual, with that sleep raspiness standing out “Hello.” you tell him and you can feel him shifting next to you“It’s race day” 
“I am aware. I have a really good feeling about today.”
“Hm” he says “Do you sense a win?” he asks and he plants a kiss on your cheek. You could get used to it. “I actually do. I feel like we are going to do well.” and you can almost hear him laughing “Who’s we?” he asks you. “Mercedes?” you tell him and he laughs, content that you actually consider his team yours by now.You lay still on the bed for a few more minutes, sitting in complete silence but you can feel the two of you debating whether or not you should get off the bed. You and Toto are too lazy to do anything but like always he’s the one who takes the initiative and moves. “Come on, get yourself ready. We have to be down at the paddock in 45 minutes.”
“I don’t need 45 minutes.”
“Oh you’re sure about that?” he asks. “Positive. You can time me if you want.” you reply.“Yes?” he asks. “Yea. But I am not going to race myself to get ready without breakfast first.” 
“I thought you were smart enough to figure out that we are always having breakfast at the track.” You don’t reply, you just sit and stare outside the window while Toto is using his phone. With his serious voice he says “Hey Siri, call Jasmine.” and then his phone starts dialing. It’s not after a minute that a female voice answers the phone. “Hello Jasmine, this is Toto, can I have my full breakfast order done and served in 45 minutes in my office?” he asks and waits for a few seconds. “I also want two servings of the same order, that in my office too, same time.” he says and you smile at the chat he’s having with his employee. “Also, it is really important that you find Mr Lord and let him know that I will not be available for the next 2 hours and I don’t want any distraction while I am in my office. Yes. Yes. Thank you Jasmine.” he says and he ends the call. “Now that you know breakfast is waiting, go get ready. Now.” 
“Is this an order?” 
“I am already counting.” he says and you run to get ready.You start running around his suite grabbing all of the things you need for race day as Toto sits on the couch scrolling on his phone while he gives you some glances. 15 minutes later you are ready to go, bag on your shoulder, shoes on. “I’m ready” you say standing and looking at him. “You are quick.” he says, still scrolling. “I am. We could go now, although you are not ready.” 
“It won't take more than 5 minutes.” 
“Really?” you ask “Yes. I just put my clothes on, get my iPad and my computer in my bag and I’m ready to go.”
“Oh I thought you needed time to get your face ready for cameras.”
“Nope, I’m all natural, the one who needs to get her face ready is you.”
“I didn’t do anything on my face except from washing it and applying some sunscreen. I am 100% natural today.”
“I see. Although you cannot convince me that when you were at Red Bull you took less than 35 minutes to get ready.”
“Well yeah I needed like half an hour to get my hair and make up done. I have to get camera ready every day. I was always late and Christian yelled at me so many times. Now no one sees me so it really doesn’t matter if I look like shit.”
“You don’t look like shit, you are great.” he tells you “Aw thanks.” you say and you drop your bag on the floor and sit next to Toto on the couch and give him a peck on his cheek. He turns and looks at you and kisses you right on the lips, instantly deepening the kiss laying you on the couch. You smile in that kiss and keep going, tangling your fingers on his hair, pulling him closer. He puts his hand under your waist and pulls you closer and you can already feel a burning desire. “How about we get back to bed?” he asks. “We have to go Toto” you manage to say between kisses.“I don’t want to leave.” he says. “We can miss the race to be honest.” you tell him. “Yes we can.” he tells you “But we won’t. Plus you’ve already ordered us your breakfast”
“You’re better.” he says and you scoff when you hear his words. “Oh god, behave Wolff” you tell him and you push him away teasingly. You walk away from him and he sits there, resting his head on the back of the couch trying to calm himself. “You got to get ready now” 
“Okay.” he says unwillingly and stands up and starts getting ready. Half an hour later you take the walk from the hotel to the paddock which has already begun getting flooded with people. Both you and Toto take your breakfast at his office and then you follow him around in his pre race routine, from fan zones to debriefs, to interviews and finally to the grid. You spot Christian and Max many times during your time there but Toto doesn’t say anything more than a Hello to both of them. You watch Max get ready to hop in the car in front of both Lewis and George and can’t help but feel a bit of anger that he is sitting on pole. You know Mercedes’ car is fast, it’s more deserving to be in P1 than Max. You know you have to work hard to bring them in P1 and P2, because the Red Bull is not slow either, you know the car from inside out, and you know it’s capable of winning. It’s only a race’s time. When it is time you manage to greet Lewis in a flurry of cameras, fans and engineers at the grid and head back to the Mercedes garage. As you head towards the entrance of the garage you hear your (fake) name being called and you turn to see Cynthia outside the Red Bull garage as she shouts good luck to you and you yell back at her, wishing her good luck. You take your place at the fantasy island and watch the race start. Max launches off perfectly, at the right time and Lewis and George get a little left behind. As the race goes on, Max is still in front of the two Mercedes drivers, who are actually closely following him. You keep watching fully focused on the telemetry screens in front of you, and listening to the talks between team members about pace and strategy. Not long after the race start, you see both cars overtaking the Red Bull and launching off into the distance. The cars are quite quick but Max keeps following them, in DRS range. The rest of the field stays back as the two black and the one blue car fight to get the first place. As soon as it is time for strategy calls you can hear the team agreeing on a double stack for the pit stops, and so it happens, but as it is normal, double stacks can’t always be flawless. George’s stop is perfectly timed and great in duration so that the undercut will be strong enough but on the other hand, Lewis who has been really unlucky with some shitty stops has it again. The front right tire doesn’t come off as quick and the stop lasts a whooping 5.6 seconds, which makes Lewis lose a track position to Max and a whole 2 seconds to him as well. Toto gets so frustrated with the stop that he smashes the desk like he always does and the race continues. Toto is all the time on the radio with the strategists and the mechanics and as a result he has no time to talk to you. Lewis is chasing Max but failing. Max is much quicker than he is and when he does reach him he is not able to make a move on him. The race finishes with George in 1st place, Max in 2nd and Lewis in 3rd.  As always Toto reaches and presses the button to congratulate George and you can see the message being broadcasted on TV. George happily replies and celebrates, thanking Toto and the team. And then Toto moves on to congratulate Lewis. Lewis is much less excited than George was. He just thanks Toto and the team and switches his radio off. You realize from the first minute of the broadcast that Lewis is kinda pissed off and disappointed.
“We won” Toto turns and tells you with a smile on his face.  “Lewis is disappointed I’m sure. But yeah at least George won.” you tell him. “I know Lewis will be disappointed. We let him down today, he’s not going to be glad. He did everything he could but still the car just couldn’t work to get past Max.”. “I am really hoping he will be alright.” 
“It’s Lewis, he’s always bigger than this. A title got stolen from him and he kept on going. I am sure he’s going to come out of this car, go to press and celebrate with us even though he might feel bitter about the third position.”
“Yeah, you probably know him better than I do.” you say and then Toto leaves you in the garage while he’s walking around the paddock talking to journalists, Sky Sports, F1 TV. Later on there’s indeed a celebration with the team for George’s win and Lewis’ podium and everyone gathers there. There’s the usual team picture and then the champagne celebrations which everyone tries to avoid but gets caught up to. After the whole thing winds down you find Lewis sitting outside the garage and you sit with him “Congrats for today!” you tell him trying to cheer him up “Uhh, I don’t know man, this isn’t my best result, but thanks either way.”
“Come on Lewis, you know you did the best you could, and it’s okay, I was in the garage next to Toto and right after that mistake he kept on trying and asking on how you could get past Max and even George but I guess the stars didn’t align for you today but for George.”
“I guess you’re right. I feel like I am overreacting but you know I have to keep my head up, nothing comes out of complaining.” Lewis says. “You just somehow became your own therapist and you overcame the whole thing in like 5 minutes. I hate you.” you tell him laughing. “I’ll teach you how to do it, it seems like you will need it when you leave us.” he says reminding you of your situation in Red Bull. “Definitely” you tell him and you sit there in silence for a while until Toto comes by you. “We’ve got to get going, we only got one and a half  hour before the jet leaves”.
“You’re leaving now?” Lewis asks and Toto nods but some mechanic comes to talk to him 
“Will Roscoe be joining us?” you ask. “About that, I will be flying with Valtteri and will drop him to Nice before flying to NYC. I was thinking about spending a little more time with Roscoe before dropping him off to you. Is it okay if Valtteri drops him by your place later on?” 
“Oh no problem, give him my number so that he can text me once you are in Nice.” 
“Great!”
“Lewis I really gotta get going, I have to pack my things back at the hotel before leaving.”
“Of course. I’ll see you in Miami. Take good care of Roscoe.”
“I will” you tell him and you wave him goodbye. After that you leave the track alone since Toto is still busy at the track. You go back to your suite and pack your things and with 45 minutes still left you take your phone and ring Toto. “Are you in your room?” you ask. “No, still at the track.” he says and you reply slightly surprised “Wait, what are you still doing on track?”
“I am having a discussion with Stefano about technical directives and he can’t stop talking.”
“Are you sure you’re going to make it? Are your stuff packed?” 
“No they are not, I thought I would have enough time to do it now but he thinks we are having a meeting.”
“Why don’t you tell him that you have to catch your flight?”
“Because he will propose that we fly together” he answers “I keep checking my watch but he doesn’t get the message”
“Oh then try to get out of this discussion asap.” 
“Will do. See you in a while” he says and he hangs up. You check your bag and you find Toto’s suite card so you decide to go to his suite and pack his suitcase. You take everything off the closet and start folding them and placing them in his carry on, take his shoes as well as his stuff from the bathroom and place them in the suitcase. Lastly you take all of the chargers and laptops and stuff them into his bag. You take a seat on his couch now both of your suitcases fully packed and ready to go but he’s nowhere to be found. 20 minutes before the time that you have to be in the airport your phone rings and his name pops up on the screen. You accept the call. “Hey” you say. You “We are not going to make it on time. I only just got to the hotel.” he says and you hear footsteps outside his door. “And? We still have 20 minutes.” 
“Everything is unpacked. We are going to be late.”  he replies and the door opens. He sees you sitting on the couch and ends the call. He walks in the hallway with a confused expression“What are you doing here?” he says and you point at the suitcase and bag left in the middle of the living room area. “I packed.” you tell him and you smile. At this very moment you see a very anxious but happy Toto walking towards you and placing a kiss on your head. “Thank you” he says. “I had time to kill, a spare key card and I figured you might be late so I thought why not. I hope that I packed them in the right way. Oh and make sure that I got everything.”
“It’s perfect, thanks.” he says and he takes a look around the suite, looking for things he might have forgotten. Five minutes later you are ready to go, you leave the hotel, you drive to the airport and get there 10 minutes late but still the jet is ready to go. You board, take the seat opposite to Toto and get as comfortable as you can, he takes a book out of his bag and places it on the table in front of you. You take off from Baku and you start feeling slightly worn out. “Sleepy?” he asks. “Is that so obvious?”
“Yes.” 
“It’s just that races wear me out so much. In Red Bull it was easier but now I literally spent twice as much energy because of the whole hiding thing.”
“I get what you mean, I can’t get through it without a cup or two of coffee” 
“It is funny because the race is during the afternoon but it still drains me” 
“You should sleep.” he tells you. “I won’t.” you tell him and he hums “So, tell me about the technical directives you were discussing with Stefano.” Toto starts explaining what he and Domenicalli were discussing along with some other team principals and you try really hard to follow what he was telling you. You were asking him questions but you felt your eyes burning “I will just close my eyes because they hurt but I will keep listening.” you tell him. “Sure” he says and he laughs. “Hey, I won’t sleep.” and he teases you “I bet you won’t.”. You close your eyes and you follow Toto’s voice, keep asking him questions and discussing until you are less and less conscious and fall completely asleep. Almost 4 hours after, you wake up, feeling the plane descending into lower altitudes. You feel surprisingly warm and open your eyes only to see Toto’s jacket all over you. You slept through the whole flight. You move slightly and Toto, who is sitting just opposite to you reading his book lifts his eyes from the book to you.“Glad to see you didn’t sleep.” he tells you  “Hey, don’t make fun of me!” 
“I love it when you know you are not right and still try to convince others that you are.” You roll your eyes at his comment and take a look outside the window. “Where are we?” 
“Almost in Nice, we will be landing in 20” 
“Cool. I can’t wait to sleep in my bed.” 
“You’re not coming over?” 
“No, I’ve had enough of you during the past days.”
“Right.” 
“How’s your book?” you ask. “It is good.” Toto says 
“I’ll read it after you.”
“I’ll be happy to lend it to you.” 
“Oh and if I like it I will need access to that Wolff Reading List.” 
“I don’t have a reading list.”
“Oh god what?”
“It is not a competition Horner, I read for my pleasure.” 
“So do I but I have a reading list. I read reviews and I sometimes write them anonymously.”  
“Well, I don’t give a shit about reviews, I read the synopsis and if I find it interesting I read it. I am sure some of my favorite books have the shittiest reviews but I don’t care.” he says. “Wow, you are stronger than I am. If a review isn’t good I won’t even start the book.”
“That’s some of the shit people of your generation do”
“Oh yes I keep forgetting that you are a boomer.” you joke “We are not going to discuss this again.” he says in a strict tone “Okay sir.” you mock him. “Fuck off, go back to sleep.” he says and he turns back to his book. “Thanks for the blanket by the way.” you say but he gives you no answer and you laugh. “Are you going to drive me back to Monaco?” you ask. “No you should call Marc” he says. “I hate you Wolff.” you tell him. “I hate you too.” he laughs. A short time after you land in Nice and contrary to what he said earlier, Toto orders for all of your baggage to be loaded to his car. You take the drive back to Monaco while discussing  paddock gossip which Toto repeats isn’t a thing he does but he happily participates in the whole discourse. Half an hour later you arrive at home, Toto parks the car in the garage and you get your bags out of the car and take the lift to your apartment. You hug him goodbye and go to your apartment where you instantly unpack and get comfortable and sit in your bedroom where you binge watch gossip girl until it is late enough and Valtteri is calling you to drop Roscoe off. You text him your details and 5 minutes later he’s knocking your door.  “Hi Valtteri.” you greet him. “Hi” he says shyly, holding Roscoe’s leash on his one hand and a bag with Roscoe’s food and toys
“Lewis told me to drop those off. Including Roscoe.” 
“I will be taking care of him while Lewis is in New York For the Met Gala.”
“Oh yeah, I would take care of him but Tif and I have to go to a bike competition in France”
“Don’t worry, I will take care of him instead. Good to see you, did you have a nice flight?”
“Yes, it was pretty decent, you know how it is when traveling in private.”
“Yeah definitely.” you tell him. “We missed you in F1, when are you coming back?” he says and for a moment you freeze before you register that you supposingly weren’t in Baku this weekend. “I missed you guys too. I don’t know when I am coming back yet, I am still adapting to my new life here in Monaco.”
“You are right, we will be happy to see you back.” 
“Thank you for dropping Roscoe off for me”
“You’re welcome.” 
“Good luck for your competition.”
“Thanks, goodnight!” Valtteri says and leaves you with Roscoe.
Roscoe gets in and moves around the apartment trying to get used to it. You play a bit with him but at some point you are too tired and get to bed where Roscoe joins you and curls next to your feet and falls asleep. You do the same for the night. The next day you wake up in your new home, register the fact that now you have to take care of Roscoe. You take him out for his morning walk and you go back home where you decide to text Sara once again. 
You
I am back in Monaco. Are you up for some coffee?
Sara
Oh welcome back! Of course I am up for coffee. Your place or mine?
You 
Cafe de Paris in an hour?
Sara
Omg sounds perfect. Gotta go get ready.
You 
I will be bringing Roscoe over too
Sara
God I love this dog. Of course bring him over, the dog is a socialite
You shut your phone and start getting ready, dressing up appropriately for the Cafe de Paris. You feed Roscoe and get him ready and after an hour you are sitting in Cafe de Paris with Sara. You both enjoy your drinks while the bulldog is sitting by your side and you keep gossiping about people you know. Sara spills her work gossip and you keep discussing different bullshit. Time goes by and both of you get hungry so you propose cooking dinner at your place. You and Sara get back home and you start cooking a risotto while she drinks wine and you tell her all the paddock gossip. “So turns out Christian hired that bitch who was hooking up with Toto.”
“He did what?” 
“Yeah, he hired her during my first week off the team.”
“Oh my gosh. I might sound a bit harsh but don’t you think that your dad is a bit problematic?” Sara asks “I’ve been thinking that since I officially joined the team, S. I just don’t understand his logic” you say and you hear your phone ringing. When you check you see Christian’s face popping up.“Speak of the devil”.
“Hey dad” you say 
“What are you doing?” 
“I’m good you?”
“No, I mean, what are you doing outside with Hamilton’s dog?”
“Oh Roscoe? Lewis is flying to the Met Gala and he wants someone to take care of his dog.”
“And you suddenly became best friends with Hamilton that he trusts you with his dog? You have the audacity to walk him in Monaco’s most crowded places? There are pictures all over the internet.”
“I think you are overreacting.” you tell him 
“How did the dog end up in your hands? Were you in Baku yesterday?” 
“What the fuck dad? I was in Monaco, I had Valtteri drop him off.”
“Are you teaming up with them? Do you think it’s going to make me change my mind and take you back?” 
“Look, I have a risotto cooking up on my stove and I do not plan on burning this place down, so let me get it straight for you. I am just taking care of a dog that for some reason triggers you in a way that nothing ever has. I am doing a favor to a friend. Nothing to piss you off. I don’t know why you think everyone is constantly plotting against you but the reality is that we are not. Take a chill pill and get used to seeing pictures of me with Roscoe until Lewis takes him back. And for fuck’s shake, let me live my life.” you say and you turn off the call. “What was that about?” Sara asks. “There are pictures of us and Roscoe from today and Christian was pissed because of a freaking dog.” 
“Oh then you were right to speak to him like that” 
“Thanks” you say. As soon as the food is ready you and Sara enjoy your lunch at your balcony with a sea view and after a couple of hours she leaves you alone. You clean up the kitchen, do the dishes and get changed to a tracksuit and a pair of sneakers for Roscoe’s night walk. You enjoy a walk along the coast of Monte Carlo and later on you come back to your building. To your surprise you see Toto just outside, dressed in a suit while waiting for his car. “Hi” you tell him. “Hello. Out for a walk I see?” he asks. “Yes, Roscoe needed his night walk.” you say as Roscoe approaches him. Toto instantly takes two steps backwards looking at the bulldog “Where are you off to?” you ask. “I’m going to a business meeting.” you are interested about his day “With a sponsor ?” and he replies giving you all the information you ask for “No, it’s for one of my finance jobs.” 
“I see.” you say and you spot someone with a phone pointing to you two “We are being videotaped”
“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen you in the paddock miss Horner” he says “Oh yeah, I’ve been having some time off that’s why.”
“I’ve heard the rumors, met your substitute as well. When do you think you’re coming back ?” 
“I haven’t decided yet, I am still recharging to be honest.” 
“Good thing to do. Take your time” 
“Thank you Mr. Wolff, take care.” you tell him and leave him to go back to your apartment. You take Roscoe off his leash and he slowly walks to his bed where he falls asleep. You lay on your couch and check your socials. It’s the first Monday of May and your timelines have already been flooded with Met Gala content, from the setting of the red carpet to some of the celebrities and acquaintances getting ready for the event. You promised Lewis that you will stay awake to see him on the red carpet and for this reason you decide to take a nap. It’s not that late but since you have to wait for Lewis until later that night you chose to kill some time this way so you drift off to a sweet nap. In the middle of your sleep you hear the doorbell ringing and you walk half asleep to the door where you check through the peephole to see who it is and you see the one tall austrian outside your door dressed with the same clothes as earlier. You open the door and you let him in.“What are you doing here?” you tell him, voice sounding a bit hoarse so Toto gets the hint. “Have you been sleeping? Did I wake you up?” he asks a little worried, “Ummm, you kinda did” you tell him, “Oh sorry, I should go then, let you rest.” 
“I was going to wake up anyway.  I promised Lewis I will watch him on the red carpet today.” you tell him and he asks “What is it today?”. You laugh with his ignorance “Oh god we are never going to get an invite if you keep asking those questions.”
“Why do we need an invitation for this?”
“It’s one of the most exciting nights of the year Toto, the Met Gala, every relatable celebrity dresses up in custom designer pieces that match to a theme and they have a dinner or something.” 
“Prom for rich people?” 
“Kinda. I am surprised you aren’t aware of it, since Lewis has been going during the past 3-4 years if I’m not mistaken.”
“Pop culture isn’t my thing.” he says while he takes off his jacket and hangs it on a chair nearby. “I can see it” you reply. Toto joins you on the couch, he sits on the side, takes off his shoes and unbuttons the top button of his shirt. You grab your computer and sit close to him. You open the TV and you play the Vogue Livestream of the event while Toto sits bored next to you switching his gaze from the television to the ceiling, to your laptop, to you and then back to the television. As you are watching the event, Toto stands up and takes a look at your bookshelf and he picks a book which he starts reading while you are too busy waiting for Lewis. Toto speed reads the book as you text Lewis asking him to let you know when he will be joining the red carpet. At some point you distinctively hear Roscoe’s paws on the floor as he runs to the living room. He sits just below your feet which you have laid on the coffee table while Toto is laying on the long side of the couch. Roscoe takes a look at you and then at Toto, both of you too far absorbed to be paying attention to him and for this reason the poor dog decides to make you pay attention to him.  Roscoe starts barking and in a fraction of a second, Toto slams his book close and starts backing up and climbing on the back of the couch. When you notice him you burst out laughing. You should have been aware that Toto is afraid of Roscoe, that’s why he was skeptical about having the dog in the same place as him during a transatlantic flight. It seems so hilarious to you that a grown ass man such as Toto is afraid of an old bulldog, mainly because Toto is who he is. The intimidating boss, the scary rival. You immediately grab your phone and start recording. “Lewis, I know you’re in line for the red carpet and you probably won’t see this until tomorrow but you have to see this.” you say as you record yourself and then turn the rear camera on. “I don’t know if you are aware of it but it seems like Mr. Wolff here is afraid of your dog.” you say as you see Toto on the back of the couch and Roscoe staring at him. “Hey! It’s not funny, please get him to leave!” he says and just as he completes his sentence Roscoe continues barking at him, Toto’s expression is essentially pure panic at this point but you continue laughing. You know Roscoe just wants to play with him but he is not very much aware of it. “Please just stop recording and get him out of here” he says again, you are still recording. “He’s not going to hurt you” you tell him, “You don’t know it” Toto replies. “Okay Lew, I have to take care of this, we are still waiting for you here” you say and you show the Vogue Livestream on your TV “Have fun!”  you say and you stop recording, sending the video to Lewis. After that you leave your phone down, you grab Roscoe and bring him by your side, far from Toto, who seems like he lost 5 years of his life. The dog lays on the couch as you rub his belly and he seems happy. “See, that’s what he wanted. Just a bit of attention and love.” you tell him “Well, if he wanted that he shouldn't have barked at me. I was scared to death” 
“Toto Wolff is afraid of dogs.” you say “I am. You cannot imagine how many times I’ve managed to avoid any interaction with this dog during the past 8 years.”
“I was just wondering how Lewis didn’t have any idea of this.”
“Oh, did you send the video? Did I make a fool of myself on Lewis as well?”
“No, that’s not making a fool of yourself, that’s adorable” 
“Until Lewis posts it on his socials” 
“He won’t” you say 
“You don’t know Lewis, he loves making fun of me every chance he gets”
“I mean sometimes you’re hilarious so he’s right, you shouldn’t be angry.” you tell him 
“Most of the time I’m not actually angry, I am just acting like I am to make him feel bad” 
“You are crazy” you tell him and you turn to catch a glimpse of the screen when you see Lewis coming up the red carpet. “Oh there he goes!” you say and Toto turns his attention to the screen and so does Roscoe once he realizes that his dad is on the tv. “That’s a daring outfit.” Toto comments as he watches Lewis posing on the red carpet. “Oh you suddenly have an opinion on fashion?” 
“Why shouldn’t I? You think you’re the only one with a fashion sense?”
“Darling, at least I have more than 3 outfits in my wardrobe” you tell him and he rolls his eyes. He knows you’re right but he still focuses on the television. You see Roscoe staring at the screen and you snap a photo which you post on your instagram stories right after lewis leaves the red carpet. “Did we just sit here to watch Lewis pose on the red carpet for 3 minutes?” 
“No, I am hoping he will be back for an interview shortly after.” you say and he nods, going back to the last page of the book he was reading and 5 minutes later Lewis comes on the screen again and both of you watch the interview ss
“You’re an expert on this aren’t you?” he asks “I have been watching for the past 10 years, Toto. Plus, they do love Lewis a lot, it was almost certain that they would give him the interview.”
“They do seem to have a preference for Lewis though.” he says 
“The truth is, as much as Max is supposedly my friend, he’s not that relevant out of our little world.” 
“How can you do that?” 
“Do what?” 
“Hang out with him”
“Look, he isn’t as much of a dick as he seems, he’s actually a pretty decent company and he’s a kind soul but only if you are close to him and that’s why he comes off as an asshole to everyone else.” you say and you yawn. “Sleepy?” he asks
“Yeah, I am starting to get tired. Are you going to stay?” 
“I would but Roscoe will be here.”
“He can sleep in the guest room, please stay?”
“I will, although I have a meeting tomorrow morning. I’ll just wake up early.”
“Okay” you tell him and you stand up taking Roscoe in your arms “Wanna pet him?” you ask. “Only because you’re holding him” he says as he pets Roscoe who’s now sleepy. You leave your living room and head towards the guest room where you leave the dog, closing the door behind you. By the time you are out the door you see that the living room is already empty and you head to your room where Toto is already laying in your bed. You change into your pajamas and climb in your bed where you fall asleep. The next day you wake up and as Toto said, he has already left for his meeting. You check your phone and you see several texts, the first one from Toto reads a simple Text me when you wake up. The second one is from Marc, saying Parties ahead of the Cannes film festival are just starting, thought it would be nice for us to be seen together, to silence people about our whereabouts. Only as friends though. Accommodation in my yacht. Tristan will be here, bring Sara as well. RSVP. You give it a thought, thinking about how Christian made a scene about Roscoe, and how he asked you where you were. You text Toto first, to make sure it won’t be a problem. 
Woke up just fine although i would have liked you to be here and not in that stupid meeting of yours. Also, Marc just sent me an invitation about a party tomorrow and I think maybe I should go, do some pr job, give people something to talk about
Toto 
You should go just don’t get too wild
You 
I won’t,besides Sara will be probably coming as well.But the thing is it will be in Cannes, but I’ll make sure to be back to Nice on time for the flight
Toto 
No problem
You leave your phone on dnd and continue your tasks for the day, doing some light cleaning on your apartment when the doorbell rings. You open the door and you find a donut and a cup left on your doormat, the cup has a note on "Sorry for not being here for breakfast, consider this as my not so homemade breakfast." You smile and shut the door, immediately texting Sara, inviting her over for coffee and gossip. Once she comes over you share the news on the party for which she agrees immediately and she proposes a shopping spree for the party. You agree with her and shortly after you are off to the shops where you try on different outfits, occasionally texting Toto for his opinion on some of the outfits. At the end of the day, Sara ends up with 4 or 5 bags from the shops and you buy one simple black  dress  from Sandro to wear for the event. You grab a drink at the Blue Gin and you head back home where you pack your bags both for the party at Cannes and for the trip to Miami. Before you get back to bed you receive a text from Marc.
Marc Taylor
I will be waiting for you tomorrow morning for our trip to Cannes
You 
Where will we find you?
Marc Taylor
At the marina, we will be using my yacht obviously
You 
We will be there @ 10:30. Should we bring coffee?
Marc Taylor
We have a barista on board. Just get your bags. 
The next day you wake up, dressing up with a maxi sundress suitable for the yacht trip. You later meet Sara and her driver drops you off at the Monaco marina, right outside Marc’s yacht. You get on board as members of Marc’s staff get your bags on the yacht and into your rooms. You follow Marc straight ahead and join him and Tristan on the deck. You can see people with cameras taking pictures of you from the marina and you play along. You do want paparazzi to see where you are and who you are with, you are confident that they will be running the story before the party today. You greet Tristan and walk the deck, taking the sun in and gazing into the mediterranean. Sara snaps some pictures of you and then the yacht leaves Monaco and sails to Cannes.  “What time does the party start?” you ask,"At 8 I believe.” Tristan replies, “We have to start getting ready as soon as we arrive there” Sara tells you 
“We will arrive in Cannes in an hour, you will be needing 6 hours to get ready?” 
“Haven’t you met Horner? She takes at least two hours to get ready for a day at the paddock, you think she will be getting ready in sooner than 5 hours for a party in Cannes?” Sara answers and you laugh. As you sail to Cannes, the four of you sit on the deck sipping champagne and gossiping about old acquaintances of yours until one hour later you arrive and you dock at the marina. Tristan and Marc go out for a walk and you and Sara stay on board to relax and get settled to your rooms. You leave Sara in her cabin and you relax outside on the deck. You snap a photo and post it on your stories and then start reading your book until you start getting ready, while listening to music. Tristan and Marc come an hour later and Tristan waves at you. You take your headphones off. “There’s someone that has a package for you outside”
“What package?”
“It’s an order from a fashion brand I think. They said you made the order from Monaco and sent it here”
“Oh yeah that” you say “Marc can you please get this for me?”
“Of course” Marc replies and leaves you behind with Tristan. “What are you reading?” he asks, “The Goldfinch” you tell him.
“Oh I heard it’s nice.” 
“It is really good, I’ll give it to you when I finish it”
“Great! Um, by the way, have you seen Sara?” 
“She’s in her cabin, probably planning today’s look. She doesn’t wake up looking as good as you see her.”
“Bet she looks even better when she wakes up” Tristan says and you burst out laughing.“You really like her don’t you?” you ask 
“I do. Not as much as Marc likes you though.” 
“Tristan, Marc and I have already discussed this.”
“You know he’s still trying though” he tells you but he stops talking as he sees Marc coming up to the yacht. “This is your package Miss.” says Marc and kneels in front of you showing you the box.“Thank you mr. Taylor” you tell him “I gotta go try it on and plan my look for today, see ya later losers.”. You walk away from Marc and Tristan and into your cabin where you untie the black bow on top of the box and open it to reveal a green silk dress and in the box, a black handwritten card, a handwriting you recognize."Yesterday night I was watching Succession, saw this dress on Shiv and thought it would look nice on you. Bis Bald.". You smile in disbelief and try the dress on and you manage to fish out your emerald Manolo shoes which perfectly fit the color of the dress. You decide to wear this to the party instead of your new bought Sandro dress and you undress since lunch is about to be served. After your meal you return to your room, and start getting ready. You take a shower, use a face mask and then fix your hair in a low bun chignon. You apply some light makeup and some jewelry for the party. When you get out of your cabin you see Marc and Tristan in their party suits. “Wow Horner” says Tristan but Marc just sits there staring at you. “We should try to snap some pictures until Sara is ready” he says again and pushes both you and Marc at the front of the yacht where he takes pictures of you both with your phone and your polaroid camera but his phone rings so Marc becomes your photographer for the moment. “You look stunning, the color is amazing.”
“Thanks” you say and you keep posing. 
When the whole photoshoot is done you check your pictures and decide to post one of them on your story but first you want to check that everything is okay from Toto’s side 
You 
[Sent 2 photos]
Your wish is my command. The dress is perfect. Tristan and Marc were stunned
Wolff
I knew as soon as I saw it that it would be a perfect fit. Glad they liked it. Hope Marc keeps his hands to himself though
You 
He will! About that, is it okay if I post the picture of me and him ? 
Wolff
Everyone is going to talk about you two being a couple so why not feed the story to them? It’s okay by me after all ,at the end of the day only I know that you will be sleeping in my bed for the weekend 
20 minutes later Tristan is already yelling at Sara to hurry up and when she does show up at the deck she sees you and stares at you. “Horner!????? What are you wearing?” she asks “You look stunning but bestie this wasn’t the plan was it?” You approach her and you whisper to her ear “It was a surprise gift I couldn’t say no to”. She scoffs. “And he won’t even bring me flowers” she says as she points at Tristan. A couple of photos later the four of you are off to the party. At the party there are a lot more photos, dancing, drinking, mingling and socializing. Everyone is enjoying the wonderful night including Sara, Marc and Tristan. You get lost in a discussion with some movie producer who happens to be at the party and at some point you see Marc approaching you along with a blonde woman, which you happen to know. “Horner!” Marc says as you greet the producer “Marc, I lost you an hour ago, where were you?” 
“With this badass. I am not sure you’ve two met but, this is Francesca Scorcese” 
“Taylor, I’ve met Horner before. You always forget nepo babies always know each other” 
“Absolutely” you say “What have you been up to since I last saw you?” you ask. The three of you start discussing and later on partying. Late at night the party starts drifting off and your quartet returns happily to the yacht. You gather all the pictures from today, making sure there’s enough you and Marc on them so that people will start believing that you are in a relationship. You post them on your instagram captioning them as “What were your favorite nepo babies up to ?”  and you shut your phone before falling asleep. The next morning you wake up and make sure everything is packed. Sara’s sister who happens to have a job in Nice and was taking care of Roscoe in the meantime comes and picks you up from Cannes and drives you to the airport where you finally meet Toto. “Morning!” you tell him and give him a little hug. You are already in incognito mode so you’re making sure no one is watching you. “Hello. How was your party night?” 
“We had a lot of fun actually. You know how our events are? Not even close to that”
“At least on those events we get to be at the same place.” 
“But as long as I can remember the only thing we’ve managed to do was fight” you tell him “Thanks for the dress again. Everyone was impressed” 
“That is for you telling me that I don’t have any fashion sense.” he teases you “Mr Wolff, it is time to board.” the lady at the gate says. You take your stuff, carrying Roscoe in his cage as well and you board the jet. You get comfortable and get Roscoe out of his cage but you hold him on your lap, making sure that he won’t get close to Toto. The plane takes off and you drift off to sleep as the lack of sleep from your party night becomes apparent. After 3 hours you open your eyes and look out the window as you are flying mid Atlantic. It takes a minute before you realize that Roscoe isn’t on your lap anymore and you take a glance around you and you see the bulldog sleeping on Toto’s lap. You laugh at the sight, thinking how some days before Toto was afraid to death and how now he peacefully sleeps with him. You snap two or three photos and send one of them to Lewis. 
You 
[Photo]
Character growth! We are on our way to Miami. See you there 
Lewis Hamilton 
That is insane. Ah man, can’t wait to tease Toto for all of this. Thanks for the content, Horner. See you at the track!
Shortly after you drift back to sleep and you only wake up when you feel the ground below you shaking. You open your eyes and look out of the window again to see the airport of Miami. You don’t register that you have finally arrived until you hear “Miss Horner, Mister Wolff, Welcome to Miami”. Toto looks around and tells you “Let’s see what this race week brings us” and you nod, mentally preparing yourself for another week at the F1 circus. 
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paper-n-ashes · 2 years
Text
The First Move
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Characters: Steven Grant x Female Reader (with a small cameo from ultimate wingman Marc Spector)
Words: 3.6k
Warnings/Tags: Explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DNI), kinda subby Steven/dominant female dynamic, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected P in V, creampie
Author’s Note: I haven’t written anything in three billion years but here’s this thing I wrote. It’s about as canon-divergent as I can physically cope with, set before Steven meets Marc for the first time but he’s there. It’s a little fluffier than what I usually dive into but I’m still a whore so of course smut comes with the meal. (The Marc-focused part 2 of this story can be found here!)
~
“Earl grey, two sugars?” you asked sweetly to the man stepping towards the counter. Steven, undoubtedly your most cherished regular, a name you’d learned from the small badge he continually seemed to forget about taking off outside the confines of his job.
He let out a muted kind of laugh, nodding, not able to have his eyes reach yours.
Oh. Today was a no eye-contact day.
You tried your best to hold back your concern whilst processing his payment, not needing to say the price out loud. “I’ll have it ready for you in a jiffy.”
There was the whisper of an appreciative smile in his lips, but it quickly faded as he walked away, his stare securely trained to the floor. Steven was here every Friday evening, his order never straying from the one single beverage as he sat at his usual table. A window seat, watching the night play out before him in passersby.
In the months since his first visit to this tiny little café, you’d come to spend each week looking forward to this moment, when the clock struck 5:15, expectant of his kind face and curled hair coming through the door. Every interaction was different, and slightly unpredictable. Initially he was simply… cautious. Almost excessively reserved, barely able to fixate his pupils on any part of you. Slowly, you could see the familiarity and comfort grow. He began to return your smiles, speak with words and not movements, linger in conversation rather than want to flee from it.
On the good days, where the anxiety that always appeared to cling to him relaxed its hold, you would delicately initiate some casual conversation. His work, his hobbies, his family – each fragment of information willingly given a precious piece of his puzzle you felt a bizarre impulse to solve. The day he’d posed his own question back had left you nearly too flustered to answer properly. All he’d asked is how long you’d been working here, and you’d never been more excited.
You hoped one day he’d ask a very specific question. If he could see you at a different time, in a different setting. Amongst other people, or alone. Whatever he wanted, whatever he felt most comfortable with. Your fear of pushing him too far out that zone stopped you from asking the question yourself. You just hoped he would, when he was ready.
So now, seeing Steven almost completely revert to his old self, was a little disheartening. He’d slipped back into this kind of state a few times – on the bad days - but never quite this far. Glancing over while you readied the small tea set, he seemed troubled, a flustered kind of kinetic energy seeming to radiate from his sitting figure.
“Busy day at the art gallery?” you asked softy while setting down the porcelain teapot at his front.
Your voice had startled him, breaking him out of a peculiar trance. And he still couldn’t look at you. “Busy. Yeah. Always busy.”
You could have easily walked away, his dismissive answer a clear sign he wasn’t in the mood for a chat today. But a heavy feeling in your chest made you linger, noting the crumpled way in which Steven sat into his chair, like he wanted to appear as small as possible. Something was wrong.
“Is everything okay?”
His head turned, finally lifting his face to meet yours. His expression was tense, forcefully blank, lips set in a hard line. There was only slightly more emotion to be seen in his eyes, a subtle fear within them you were sure you’d never encountered before.
“Fine. Just fine,” he stumbled out, the words coming out unnaturally fast. “Thanks for the tea. It looks… hot.”
There was a twitch of disgust he had at his own comment, and it made you relieved. The Steven you’d come to know was still there, underneath the shroud of distress covering every inch of him right now.
“Just let me know if there’s anything else you need, okay?”
You hoped he would see past the face value of your words, that he might see you as a safe haven in a world you also found a little too overwhelming at times. And while your offer was never claimed as the evening wore on, you’d occasionally peered over to see him quietly studying your movements. Each time you met his gaze with the the same warm smile before he quickly redirected himself away to his long cold tea.
It was difficult not to let the disappointment swallow you whole when Steven, quite uncharacteristically, didn’t even look your way before briskly setting off home. Usually you would have been filled with a bubbly warmth as the door bells tingled, right after the recurring “Laters, gators!” farewell you’d become so accustomed to. Without it, the tinkling metal sound was positively jarring. It made you worry. Did something happen? Had you done something wrong? Was this little fixation you’d centered on one man hopelessly one sided?
These questions continued to control most of your attention as closing time finally arrived, with you being the sole person left under the dimmed lights. With the coffee machine cleaned and prepped for a new morning you’d be waking to greet, you were about to take the keys into your hand when a shrill tone rung into the silent space. The telephone. Who the hell is calling here at this time of night?
It was out of genuine curiosity you scuffled over to the handset instead of letting it go to voicemail, not having a recognizable number show on the small display. Force of habit made your voice delve into its higher pitch as you spouted off the usual greeting with your name, the other line initially filled with a bizarre static alongside its silence.
“Hello?” you repeated. “Is there anyone there?”
Again, nothing. Just static.
“Look we’re already closed, and I’d really like to go home-”
“You need to make the first move.”
The voice stilted you off balance, frozen into as much stillness as the room around you. It was deep, blazoned with intention and… American? What the hell?
“I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number-”
“With Steven. You’re gonna need to make the first move,” the voice reiterated, somewhat forcefully. “He’s not going to do it himself.”
The mention of his name made you physically recoil, peering around in the almost darkness. “Who the hell is this? Have you been watching me?”
“I’m a… friend of Steven’s. And I’m just trying to… help.”
You should have been more concerned about the complete stranger making it his business to call your workplace at 10pm on a Friday evening with such a cryptic message, but there was suddenly a prospect of hope weaving its way around your chest.
“Wait, has he talked to you about me?”
A pleased exhale crinkled through the speaker. “In his own way, yeah. It’s… kinda complicated. And not important. Look, you’ve both waited long enough, and you and I both know he’s not exactly the brave type.”
To his credit, the stranger must actually know Steven to make this kind of comment, a frustratingly correct one at that. “Who says I’ve been waiting? You don’t even know if I’m interested in him like that.”
“You haven’t hung up yet,” the voice said succinctly. “I think that says a lot.”
Damn. He’d got you. Prick.
“Okay, let’s say I am,” you conceded, leaning into the counter. “What are you implying I do about it?”
“I already told you – make the first move. How you do that? Well, that’s your choice. But I can’t keep watching him slowly turn insane for not being able to ask you on a simple god damn date.”
The heart rhythm that followed was loud in your ears, thumping through your limbs. “Is that true? He’s wanted to ask me out, all this time?”
“He’s wanted to do more than that, trust me,” the stranger grumbled, almost in a huff.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t worry about it.” A piercing alarm rung out on the other line. “Shit. Time’s up. Okay, I’m going to give you his address. What you do next is your decision, but let me tell you, being bold wouldn’t be the worst option.”
The voice didn’t give you time to reply before he was rattling off a street and apartment number, having to hastily write it over your forearm as the monotone beep of an ended call repeated over and over.
The air felt colder as you set the phone down, little wisps of ice creeping over your skin in direct contrast to the heat beginning to flourish from your insides.
He needed you to be bold? Oh, you could be bold.
*
Steven woke with a jolt, the restraints at his ankles making a rattling sound against the hardwood bedposts. Shit, he’d fallen asleep again. Maybe he should’ve made that switch to coffee by now.
Ugh, no, the heart palpitations weren’t worth it.
To his relief, the sky outside his window was still draped in blackness. Maybe his body hadn’t had enough time to try and wander yet. A quick glance at his phone screen told him it was just past 10:30pm, long after a safeguard alarm should have woken him from any accidental nap. Once again the memory of deactivating it wasn’t one his brain allowed him to keep.
It was getting harder to keep himself awake, that was clear. Every night he was drifting off sooner and sooner, always working at half capacity during waking hours without the restful sleep he couldn’t trust himself to have. Short bursts like these seemed to stave off most symptoms of exhaustion, but there was always that lingering headache quietly thumping inside his skull, the same one making his brow furrow as he unshackled himself from his makeshift snare.
A new deepened purple was noticeable under his eyes as he opened the mirrored cabinet of his bathroom, selecting the mildest form of painkillers in his meagre stock. He didn’t need anything making him more drowsy, even when the peace of slumber was the only thing he wanted right now.
Well, except for you.
The thought made his throat tight. All week he’d spent building up courage, rehearsing the perfect lines, curating a persona much more confident than what he knew he was. Casual. Relaxed. Maybe even a little suave.
It all went to bollocks the moment he stepped through the door. One little tinkle of that stupid bell and all his willpower came crumbling down. He couldn’t help it. It was the story of his life. Too chicken shit to even ask a nice girl out to dinner. Could have been simple. Easy. But it never was.
Knock knock knock.
The sound was startling, making Steven jump with an audible peep. A visitor? This late?
Oh who was he kidding, having a visitor ever was a shock in its own right.
Tentatively he tread over to the triple locked door, stripping off the undisturbed tape lining the frame. A breath sat heavy in his lungs as he stood there, heart thrumming to a quickened beat, releasing the exhale in a single, measured progression. Only when there was no more to give, he opened the door.
You.
It was you.
Standing in his hallway. There to see him.
Ahh, right… So he’d never actually woken up. Just stuck in another vivid dream. Seemed about right.
The realisation was deflating, even while his mind instinctively burst with those happy little chemicals it always shot out at the sight of you. It was interesting though, how sharp your visage looked compared to other times you’d shown up in his dreaming, wearing an expression of eager impatience.
“Hi,” you greeted, your voice unusually clear. And positively giddy. “I hope this is okay. Me just showing up here.”
Knowing you were just a figment of his mind’s conjuring caused him not to question your presence, or how you came to find his address, instead starting to feel a grateful smile spread across his face. “Yeah. Yeah definitely it’s fine. Brilliant actually.”
Your face radiated even more joy, almost a little disbelieving. “It is?”
In his dreaming Steven was starkly more honest than his real life, making it an easy task to answer, “There’s no one else I’d be happier openin’ my door to.”
There was a change in your features after he said the words, a change maybe only Steven would have been able to recognise after so much time looking to you from afar. Jaw tightened, eyebrows cinched ever so slightly. An expression of certainty, of conviction.
Two sets of fingers reached out to grab at his shirt, feet stumbling under him as a hurried connection occurred between your lips and his.
A kiss. You were kissing him. And it felt so… real?
Seconds moved on while Steven’s mind desperately tried to catch up, your mouth beginning to move over his with a fragile balance of hesitancy and greed. It took far longer than he would have preferred to respond in the same way, eventually syncing into the rhythm you’d set, the rigidity in his limbs settling into an embrace with yours. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d imagined your first kiss, awake or otherwise, but there was something wholly distinct about the one he was experiencing now.
There was heat radiating from where his skin touched yours. A minty tang when his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your distinctive floral perfume sweeping his senses with every inhale.
When a hand slipped over the line of his cheekbone, nails softly scratching into his hair to pull his face closer, it finally clicked.
He broke away from you with a jerk, clutching at your upper arms. “Hold on a minute, you’re real?”
You seemed to need a moment to collect yourself, frankly looking a little dizzy from the sudden retraction. “What? What do you mean I’m real?”
“You’re here? Right now? At my apartment?”
Your nose wrinkled as you scrutinized his utter disbelief. “You literally just opened the door to me.”
“But… But I…” There was that same annoying delay Steven suffered from his brain to his mouth, his thoughts too jumbled to properly curate a sentence. “I thought… I thought that I was dreaming. I dream lot you know. And with you showin’ up here, I just assumed…” He shook you, needing to feel the full weight of you wobble back and forth. “But you’re here. You’re… really here. Right?”
For long, worrying, seconds your expression remained in its state of questioning alarm, blinking a few times to let your eyes focus again. As the narrowing pupils flitted over Steven’s face, he saw how a tempered smirk began to appear.
“Would you like me to show you that I’m real?”
In all honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what you meant. But the tempting sparkle in your stare had him quickly nodding along to your offer. Immediately you had his heels skidding along the dusty, wood floor, maneuvering him backwards towards the unmade bed.
He might have worried you could notice the pysch-ward shackles still loitering at his bed posts, or the thick layer of sand crunching under your shoes, yet your attention was acutely fixed on pushing him into the mattress to sit, leaning down to secure him in an even more decadent kiss than the first.
Steven didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, having the odd reflex to claw them into your flesh but refraining from doing so in the fear of being, as most in his life would recite, a little too much. So he did his best to smother those reckless instincts, settling to merely drift his palms up your thighs to feel the curve, almost making to your rear when you began to sink down to the floor.
Fucking hell, you were on your knees. Between his. Trying to unlock his belt.
Impulse took over again as his own hands flew down to aid in your effort, working in tandem to unlock and shimmy down his starched trousers, his boxers being clutched along with them until he was on show for you. Fully and completely. So hard it hurt.
He might have let this kind of vulnerable state – one in which it’d been years since he’d faced – jump to overwhelm him, turning to escape in any way possible. But with you, gaping at his erection like it had taken the wind right out your lungs, the fear was purged from his body in a rolling wave, humbly sitting in anticipation for your next action.
Every nerve in his body lit up a spark when you gripped a hand around the base of his cock, already pulling a frantic rasp out his chest when the tip of your tongue swirled around the head. The sound swiftly transformed into a heated groan when you slithered your lips down the breadth of his shaft, enveloping as much length of him as you could adequately handle.
Up and down you started to move, slow by any usual means but quick enough for Steven to shudder through each breath he took, pangs of pleasure ricocheting through his lower limbs. Truly he wasn’t sure how he kept it together, watching your lips glide up and down his now glistening dick, your tongue swirling at the underside in a way he didn’t know existed until this very minute.
In fact, no, he couldn’t keep it together.
“F-fuck,” he choked. “Jesus fucking christ. I need to… I don’t want this to be over until…”
With a subtle gasp you retreated, wiping away the spittle from your chin, looking up to Steven with a single question coded in your stare.
Again his agreement wasn’t verbal, just a rushed bob of his head, very nearly the epitome of subservience. That’s all he wanted to be for you. The vessel of your pleasure.
Just as he answered without words, you responded with your movements, standing only to slink down the pants you wore, stripping off the rest of your ensemble as you straddled onto his lap. Gods, he wished he might have had the chance to glide a thumb over your bare nipple, but you were already reaching down…
And there it was, heaven.
Or as close as he’d felt it.
A moan of synchronicity occurred as you slid down to the hilt of Steven’s cock, clenching around it as you leaned in to kiss him, both palms clutching at his jaw. Nothing could have prepared him for the way you began to grind yourself over his full length, your hips determining their own unique pattern and pace.
Thrills of ecstasy began to riddle through him as your whines became louder with each stoke, each one gliding over with an impossibly smooth friction. No matter how hard he wanted to fight it, the point of no return dragged even closer.
He tried to think of anything that might stave off the inevitable climax. Sand. Mummified human remains. The annoying little beep his barcode scanner made during inventory nights ringing over and over-
“It’s… okay. Just let go,” you hummed into his ear.
“It hasn’t… Shit… It’s not been long enough,” he heaved, occasionally interrupted with shuddering moans he had no control over keeping tamed. “For you… It’s not been long enough for you.”
He could feel the crease of your smile at his cheek, in addition to a pronounced tightening around him down below. “Please Steven. Just let it happen. I want it. I need it.”
Your words, the sincerity in which you spoke them, broke apart all the resolve he had. Every muscle seemed to flex as a somewhat violent orgasm ruptured from his core outwards, continuing flashes of pleasure rolling in aftershocks as he emptied himself inside you. There were hissing curses he didn’t quite himself speak when your thrusting didn’t immediately slow, milking every ounce of fluid from him to your deepest part.
Oh god, was he supposed to do that? No one had ever let him do that before. It was so… warm. In fact, his whole body felt a similar kind of mellowed heat. This sort of afterglow was different to the ones following solo endeavors. More potent and endlessly more relieving.
And here he was laying there like a knob, not affording you the same sensation.
Steven frantically reached up grab onto your torso, unable to properly find his footing with his legs dangled over the edge of the bed.
“Hey woah! What are you doing?” you shot out, propping yourself up to look down over him.
“I was tryin’ to, you know, switch us around. Since it’s, well, your turn. And I don’t want to keep you waiting. I just… want to make you feel as good as you made me…”
The grin that spread across your lips made his chest thump. You looked touched. Usually he hated this kind of reaction in people, where they looked at him like some adorable, naïve soul. Although on you it made him feel… treasured.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s really not necessary.”
“It is to me,” he said unwaveringly. “I mean, it just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t return the favour.”
Again your cheeks plumped with a smile, irises practically dazzling around their widened pupils. You grazed a set of fingers at his hairline, setting some the unruly curls back into place. “You could return it in a different way, while we take a break first?”
“How do you mean?”
“I like… tea.”
Steven let out a roughened chuckle, leaning up on his elbows. “Well I’m not the tea connoisseur of the room, but I think I can handle a brew. How do you take it?”
“Earl grey. Two sugars.”
~
If you read this, thank you! I love you with my whole heart.
Tagging a few I adore and thought might want to give this a read:
@tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45​ @hopeamarsu​ @caillea​ @princessxkenobi @mariesackler​ @sacklerscumrag
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The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter 3
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masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates
You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
rating: 18+, minors DNI
word count: 1.1k
tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia
chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, violence towards children, nightmares
Chapter 3
By the time you descended the ladder, Joel had everything set up. A clean, if dusty and threadbare, blanket was spread before the fireplace. He’d managed to get the fire going, and while it hadn’t reached a roar, it was plenty hot enough to heat some cans for dinner.
“What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, gesturing between two cans with a pilfered can opener. “I’ve got alphabet soup or beefy ravioli.”
“Ravioli, please,” you said decisively, taking a seat beside him on the blanket. It took a second of him staring at you expectantly for you to realize he was holding out your selection. You took it and dug in.
“Holy shit,” you nearly moaned, the zing of 20-year-old marinara a delight to tired taste buds.
“That good, huh?” Joel asked. 
You nodded–yeah, it was really that good.
“Maybe Ellie’s onto something,” he chuckled, digging into his own dinner. You cocked an eyebrow. He elaborated, “She���s big on Chef Boyardee, too. Who knew he’d have so many fans in the apocalypse?”
“I don’t know,” you joked. “Fungal pandemics come and go, but pasta is forever.”
He laughed mid-chew, snorting so effusively a J-shaped piece of pasta landed at your feet.
“Huh,” you said. “J for Joel.”
You ate the rest of your food in relative silence, the levity of the first few bites subsiding once you realized how hungry you truly were.
A few minutes later, you set your empty can on the hearth with a clatter. “I’m gonna turn in.”
Joel nodded. “I’ll take first watch. Good night, Doe.”
“Night, Joel.”
Upon further inspection, the puke-covered couch appeared to convert into a mostly unscathed bed. It felt almost wrong to tuck yourself beneath such cozy bedding in your filthy patrol clothes. Especially since you had to be ready to spring into action at any moment, which meant your shoes stayed on too. But it’s not like there were other options. You lay your head atop the impossibly fluffy pillow, and let your eyes fall shut. Before you knew it, you were asleep.
* * *
You only ever saw Steffy in your dreams anymore. Your baby sister had been there for the collapse of the Salt Lake City QZ, escaping alongside you. But somewhere between fleeing and finding yourself at the gates of Jackson, you’d lost her. You’re not sure what happened exactly, but the dread in the pit of your stomach left no room for wondering: Steffy was dead.
She was alive right now, though. You were little again, sitting on the terracotta tiles of your Aunt Suzie’s back porch. It was summer, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the magnolia tree above you.
While the adults grilled, you and Steffy had a tea party. All the best dolls were invited, teddy bears too. Even Steffy’s favorite, a bedraggled rat plushie named Ratty.
“Ratty wants Earl Grey,” Steffy said, holding out a tiny teacup and saucer.
“Why, of course,” you replied in a bad British accent, pretending to pour him a cup.
Steffy made Ratty drink the whole cup in one gulp. “Dee-licious.”
You giggled. She giggled. It was contagious, the two of you devolving into downright guffaws when you noticed the adults’ chatter had stopped. Looking over your sister’s shoulder, your face fell.
“What’s wrong?” Steffy asked with a tilt of her head.
You wanted to tell her to run. You wanted to tell her to get behind you, that something was wrong. But you were frozen. 
That’s when the clicker sunk its teeth into her neck.
You woke with a start, flailing wildly, arm connecting with something hard, something that let out an ‘oof’ in response. Joel. You had hit Joel. Based on the proximity, you guessed he was trying to wake you.
“Sorry,” you panted, heart still racing from your dream. “Time for my watch?”
“No,” you could barely make out the shake of his head against what was left of the dying firelight. “It’s only been a couple hours. You were flailin’ about, looked like you were having a nightmare.”
“Oh,” you said. “Thank you. I’m fine now.”
“If you’re sure,” he said. “I’m here, y’know. If you want to… talk about it, or anything.”
You were still shaky. Your heart was still going so fast. But you weren’t about to discuss your dead sister with Joel Miller.
“I’m fine.” You doubled down, softer than you meant to.
“Okay,” he backed off, returning to his spot leaned up against the fireplace, eyes on the door.
Minutes passed, and your heart was still racing. Your hand throbbed, and you wondered how hard you’d hit Joel. Hopefully not hard enough to leave a mark.
“I’m sorry I hit you,” you said softly through the darkness.
“It’s fine, Doe. You were dreaming.”
You hated the way he brushed away your concerns, the way he gave you grace. In your experience, people rarely let others off the hook, not really. There was always some resentment that lingered.
If you were going to owe him, you might as well really owe him.
“Joel?” you asked.
“Hm?”
“I can’t sleep,” you confessed.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do about that.”
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself to ask for what you wanted. “Will you cuddle with me? It’s not you, it’s just…I need another person. We’re safe here, we don’t need a watch, not really. And I need you.”
“Thought you said it wasn’t personal.”
“It’s not,” you bristled. “But I thought it would be nice.”
“Never said it wouldn’t be, sweetheart.”
You lay there expectantly for what felt like ages. Then, finally, you heard the squeak of old floorboards under his boots, and felt the squish of the mattress as he climbed onto it beside you. You found a position easily, one arm beneath your head, his other loosely draped across your waist.
Your heart slowed marginally, but your breathing remained fast and light.
“Relax, sweetheart. You gotta breathe.”
“I can’t–” you started. He cut you off with a hand to your stomach.
“You can.” He pulled you back against him gently, not so tight you were crushed, but just enough for you to feel the expanding and contracting of his own breath against your back. “Breathe with me, alright?”
You nodded with a shuddering breath. He tapped your stomach lightly with his thumb. You matched his inhale, breathing deeply and resenting the fact that this shit works every goddamn time. Within a few minutes, you were calm. Or as calm as you were going to get, anyway.
“I get them too, you know,” Joel admitted.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You were still pulled close against him, neither of you having made a move to scramble apart once your breathing returned to normal. At his admission, you relaxed into him fully, taking his free hand in yours.
Before you knew it, you were asleep once more, dreamless and deep, held safe and secure in the warmth of Joel’s embrace.
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sourpatchys · 2 months
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Tea prompts; Daryl Dixon
You can find the original prompt post here!
These are really fun! Let me know if there are any other characters you’d like to see!
Warning: none! This is completely SFW! (Surprising I know, but I love soft Daryl!)
A/n: F!reader! I know I usually make my works GN, so I apologize in advance, but this is very AFAB leaning, I hope you can still enjoy!
Guidelines Masterlist Daryl!Masterlist
Lemon tea; What are mornings like with them?
Groggy is probably the best word to describe it. Daryl wakes up at the crack of dawn— ready at start the day and get moving as soon as his eyes open.
He’s going to try his best not to wake you, he loves to watch the twitch of your eyelashes and the peaceful look on your face. Though— sometimes— even being as quiet as he possibly can, the lack of warmth beside you wakes you anyways.
Those are the days where he decides to crawl next to you again, running his fingers through your hair and trying his damndest to lure you back to sleep.
He doesn’t want you to face the world and he doesn’t want that peaceful look in your face to disappear once you open your eyes.
He always leaves a kiss on your forehead, whispering sweet nothings into your ears before departing. His raspy morning voice always creating a bubble around you, like a soft blanket from your childhood, wrapping you tight.
Peppermint tea; What do they get exited about?
Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t take much to get Daryl excited.
He’s skeptical of everything and he doesn’t trust anyone, but one good dinner, one good catch or a warm, perfectly tempered, night is just enough to make him forget all the bad in the world for a few seconds.
Food especially gets him going. He’s become a sort of provider— he’s good at what he does and he takes pride in his ability to feed those he cares about. If it’s a good meal, one that has people patting him on the back, he’s going to get a little giddy.
And outwardly he may not show it— too embarrassed to display how absolutely amazing he feels— but inside he’s chucking his heels in victory.
Chamomile tea; What is their sleep schedule like? Does it change around their s/o?
Daryl doesn’t have much of a sleep schedule.
He prefers being awake and alert when you’re on the road, and can go days without a wink and still be able to function perfectly fine. (Albeit a bit more grumpy and reserved)
He’s also a light sleeper, any noise, dangerous or otherwise, can wake him up in the blink of an eye.
If there’s a safe place to stay— such as the prison or Alexandria— he sleeps like a baby. Never a full eight hours, but five or six get the job done well enough.
With you that doesn’t change much.
If you’re on the road together he prefers to stay awake the entire time. If you wanted to stand guard to allow him to sleep he’d definitely fight you on it—claiming he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you were out there by yourself. (even if he was only a couple feet away)
When you’re together in a safer environment, with a bed and walls to protect you, he sleeps a bit deeper. The sound of a pin dropping wouldn’t wake him, so long as your warm body is pressed against him he’s content— he’s safe and he knows you are too.
Earl grey tea; How did they court their s/o?
Courting is a strong word— much too strong for how Daryl and you became a couple.
He did nice things for you, finding and giving you things he thought you would enjoy whenever he went on runs. But he never let himself truly feel that unfamiliar pull of affection.
Truly, he didn’t believe that he could protect you or that he deserved you at all.
It didn’t take long for the others no notice. You were always on the back of Daryl’s bike, he was always gifting you fun rocks and he’d somehow always manage to find your favorite candy on runs.
He didn’t court you— he simply gave more of himself to you than anyone else— until eventually you got the hint.
Milk tea; what are their kisses like?
Kisses with Daryl have phases.
Sometimes, he gives you short pecks, tingling your face with the scratch of his beard for only a millisecond before pulling away.
Sometimes they’re deep, enthusiastic, and oh so full of life. Harsh presses full of static— he wraps his arms around you and swings you around— completely unwilling to let go, uncaring of who’s watching or what anyone will think.
And sometimes, his kisses feel like a waterfall, so delicate and beautiful. These kisses are full of passion, they thrive in the moment and they prove to the both of you that— you are alive— and you’re alive together.
Coffee; Do they get jealous easily? How do they show it?
Yes and no. Daryl doesn’t really care what you do, who you hang around or how you act— in the grand scheme of things he’s probably the most lax partner you could ever have.
However, he does fear for others impact on you. In his mind— if someone were to tell you that he wasn’t good enough— maybe you’d believe them. Maybe passing comments and disgusted looks would drive you away from him.
He trusts you— mind body and soul— but in doing so he also fears his trust.
He’s jealous in the way— where if someone were to make a move on you, touch you in a way he didn’t like— he’d talk to you about it first. He values your opinion, even if that opinion could hurt him in the end.
If you were uncomfortable, if you also didn’t like the way you were touched— he’d skin that fucker alive.
He has his outburst sometimes— where maybe a comment was just too much for him to handle— if he was already having a shitty day and it was just the cherry on top— nothing could hold him back.
He’s not the loud redneck that came for everyone’s throats in the beginning— but that part of him still lingers, and he’s not afraid to show his bark and his bite of the situation calls for it. Especially when it comes to his woman.
Rosehip tea; How romantic are they? How do they show affection?
Daryl’s a clumsy romantic. He’s going to try— of course he is— but that doesn’t mean he’s good at it.
He’ll bring you flowers and knickknacks, cook your favorite meal whenever he’s able— and he gives the best neck and back massages in town.
But in all honesty— he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He’s running on pure instinct, on what he thinks a girl would want. Just give him patience, give him time to understand you as an individual.
He’s interested in whatever hobbies you’ve managed to keep with you through it all— he wants to learn about you but he’s afraid to ask questions.
He’s touch starved, so once he’s comfortable enough he’s going to start holding you. Whether it be your hand, your thigh, or even an arm slugged around your shoulders.
All in all, he’s going to struggle, he’s going to mess up and he may even fight you on it— but he’s still going to do his best, because that’s what he thinks you deserve.
Black tea; What do they look for in a person?
Daryl stopped looking for a person a long time ago. When he was looking, all he really wanted was someone willing to care for him— someone he could trust.
He’s never cared much about looks, body type or even hygiene. Just a girl he could love and a girl who would love him in return.
Never in his life has he felt worthy— and he craves that feeling of validation so badly. All he really wants is someone who will stick by his side through anything and everything— someone who can look past his rough persona without him breaking it down himself.
He wants to be seen without worrying about being perceived.
Pomegranate tea; At what point did they know they lived their s/o?
It didn’t take long.
When it sunk in for him— when he truly realized that he had it, and that he had it bad. It was after he heard you laugh for what felt like the first time.
Being on the road and fighting for survival— there really wasn’t much room for laughter, joy or anything remotely positive. For months all anyone had done was keep their heads down, praying for a moment of clarity.
Once you had taken over the prison, that first night camped outside in the grass, you had laughed. Looking back he couldn’t remember why you were laughing, he couldn’t remember what joke was told or what amusing thing you may have seen.
But he does remember that twinkle in your eye, the way your nose scrunched up and the fullness in your cheeks. He remembers the sound of your laugh, so calming and innocent— so addictive and contagious.
After that, he couldn’t look at you the same anymore. All he could see was that scene replaying on memory like a scratched record doomed to repeat.
It gave him more than enough reason to keep going, and he decided then and there that his life’s mission would be to see that scene as many times as possible.
Matcha tea; How and when do they propose to their s/o?
As stated above— Daryl’s a clumsy romantic.
The longer the two of you are together, the more he’s going to realize just how much he wants it to last forever. (Or whatever time left the two of you have)
The way he would go about it wouldn’t be necessarily ‘correct’, he wouldn’t have a ring or a speech lined up— and he definitely wouldn’t ask you if you wanted to be ‘Mrs. Dixon’.
You’d probably make a joke about being his wife— claiming something along the lines of ‘happy wife happy life’, more to make yourself laugh than anything else.
He would brood over it, mumble some things under his breath and continue on— but he’d keep that little joking phrase in the back of his mind.
Then, in Alexandria— when it comes time for introductions— he’d beat you to it, calling you his wife and telling the townsfolk to stay the fuck away from you.
And from that point on— regardless of legality— you become husband and wife.
Chai tea; How do they spice up their relationship?
There isn’t much to do in regards of spicing up a relationship, especially at the end of the world.
However, Daryl always makes it a point to take you away from it all.
He designates spots for just the two of you no matter where the group may be. He’ll go on runs by himself just go he can find a quiet place for the two of you.
Sometimes it’s a field of wild flowers, other times it’s just a clearing in between a couple large trees— but it’s always something, and it’s always just for you.
No place is ever going to be entirely secure and safe, and he knows that, but if he can make even a little space of heaven for you— he always does— no matter how long he has to search for it.
Hibiscus tea; What’s their favorite place to take their s/o?
It’s not so much a place as it is an activity— but he loves to hunt with you.
Going out into the great outdoors, looking for game and just spending quality time with you.
Growing up, hunting trips were the only way he got to see the soft side of his father, and it was a huge point of relation between Merle and him as well. So being able to share that with you, even if it’s not something you would normally do on your own, it’s his absolute favorite thing.
In the times we’re he’s hunting with you, separate from the group as he’s following the trail of whatever animal is closest— it almost feels like he’s back in the old world again. Free from abuse and bad decisions— he feels normal. He feels content.
And when you’re by his side, he feels as though anything is possible.
Green tea; How do they comfort their s/o?
Daryl’s way of comforting, is story telling. He, as a person, has experienced many things in his life— before and after the collapse.
He wants you to know, whether you’re angry, sad or just frustrated, that you aren’t alone. He comforts with comparisons and large bear hugs. He’ll whisper stories from times lost and hold you so close you can feel his heart thumping as if it were in your own chest.
He doesn’t pride himself on his comforting abilities, it’s not something he ever had to worry much about— but with you— truly all he wants is to see you smile again.
He’s okay with making a fool out of himself just to see you crack a smirk, he’s okay with hugging you and holding you close for weeks at a time if that’s what you need— he’s okay with hurting anyone who’s wronged you and he’s okay with helping you seek revenge.
Daryl doesn’t care what it takes— words, jokes or violence— he will do anything so long as you feel better in the end.
Russian caravan tea; How experienced are they with relationships?
Not at all. Daryl has had flings, one night stands and maybe even a friend with benefits at one point or another. But a real genuine relationship, to be loved and love in return— it’s completely new to him.
He has no basis for what to do or what to expect, his mother and father weren’t exactly lovey dovey for the time they were together. Merle never had a girl of his own, treating women as nothing more than play things whenever he could get his hands on one.
He’s completely lost, and he’s too embarrassed to ask anyone else for advice. It’s trial and error! And he hopes— with everything in him— that you don’t mind how truly clueless he can be.
English breakfast tea; Would they want a family?
The short answer is yes— Daryl wants a family.
The long answer however, is that he’s terrified of what having a family would entail. He wants to have a child with you— he wants— no, he craves— that domestic bliss that he’s only ever felt with you.
He wants to hear the pitter patter of small footsteps running up to him, he wants to be woken up in the middle of the night because of nightmares, he wants to be a father.
But he’s terrified. He’s scared of being just like his own, he’s afraid of losing his temper, he’s afraid of his bad days and what that could mean for someone so small and vulnerable.
He’s scared for you— about what a pregnancy in this world could mean for you and the life you share with him.
He would never ask. Never once would the words ever escape his mouth, forever locked in his mind unable to be free.
If you were to ask however, if you also wanted that kind of life with him— no matter how afraid he may be— he would give it to you.
If you were to fall pregnant without prior discussion, if it were an accident and you were afraid. He would be your rock, doing everything in his power to save you from that darkness.
All Daryl really wants— is to have and experience life with you— no matter what that may entail.
Rooibos tea; what’s their favorite thing to do with their s/o?
As stated above— Daryl likes to hunt with you, bringing one of the only nice moments from his childhood to the surface and experiencing it with you.
However, besides that— he generally just enjoys being with you.
Holding you close, knowing you’re in his reach— he knows that at any moment you could be taken away from him— so any and every second he spends with you is pure unadulterated bliss.
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chol1na · 2 months
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˖⁺‧₊ kitty? kitty.
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author's note: i'm kinda nervous to post stuff but you only live once, right? a big thank you to @yoosungs-cheeks and @jannine00742 (my name twin hehe~) for proof reading! feedback is appreciated !!
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“You done in there, Pickle?”. It was one time you were craving pickles at 3 am and couldn't open the jar, one time. And yet here you were, being reminded of the incident every few minutes.
“Pthu! Yep, I’m done. And stop calling me that!”, you spit out the tooth paste, wiping your mouth with your designated towel. It had been a while since you had decided to stay with Isaac. Soon after, his bathroom became your bathroom. His sink, once only occupied with his shaving equipment and toothbrush, soon became more cramped with your skin care and toothbrush holder. His bedroom became your bedroom. His bleak grey bedding now littered comfortable pillows and his nightstand stacked with the library's newest additions.
Leaving the bathroom, you spot your lover nestled into one of the two surprisingly comfortable leather chairs. You wrap your arms around him gently from behind, pecking his cheek. “Whatcha reading?”.
You glance over as he flips the book over so you can read the title. “Lord of the Flies? Bleh”, you grimace before continuing, “Though, I can’t say I’m surprised, Golding is almost as cynical as you”. “Someone’s in the mood to play”, Isaac chuckles, pulling you onto his lap. He kisses your shoulder before turning back to keep reading.
“Mind if I have a sip?”, I ask, nodding to his tea. Isaac hums, but soon pulls it away before you could steal a sip from him. “On second thought, no”. You pout, nudging him gently, “Huh? Why?! Don’t be stingy~ You know I like earl grey”.
He chuckles at your whining. “Because, you just brushed your teeth. I do not mind sharing with you, but I don’t think the taste of toothpaste and tea go together, Pickle”. You huff quietly, but don’t argue back. With a quiet yawn, you lean your head against his, occasionally playing with the sleeve of his free hand or a stray lock.
Your eyes twinkle as you watch him read. It’s difficult not to kiss him with the way his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. Part of you wants to straighten out the crease, poke his cheek, or maybe nibble on his neck, just to see his reaction. Almost as if he’d read your mind, Isaac leans over to give you a soft kiss, his free hand reaching for your lower back, the other still holding the book.
“Someone’s needy”, he smirks, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Are you bored?”. You yawn again, shaking your head, “No, just want to bother you a bit. Pay attention to me~”.
“Tired?”, he cups your cheek, closing the book as he sees through your playful facade. Truth be told, you were exhausted - but going to sleep now would mean going to sleep alone. If you asked Isaac to come with you, he’d drop everything in his hands and do just that, but, knowing just how little free time he gave himself, you wanted to tough it out. “No. Unless you’re read to sleep”, you mumble, nuzzling into him slightly.
“I'm ready for bed anytime you are, Kitten,” Isaac grins, seeing through you instantly.
“…Kitten?”, you blink in surprise. “Huh. I can’t tell if that’s an upgrade or downgrade from ‘Pickle’”.
"Hm… do you prefer something else? It came to me naturally. You’re clingy and yet independent. Needy and playful when you know I’m busy, and while I can count on you for important matters, I can also count on the fact that you’re a brat and a tease. So, Kitten was a natural next step”.
You tilt your head in thought, before shaking it softly, “You’re so… weird sometimes, Isaac”.
Isaac chuckles and lets go of you but only to take you by the hand and lead you to your bedroom. He motions for you to lay down and climbs in behind you, his body wrapped against yours. There’s a comfortable silence.
“Isaac?”, you mumble after a while. Isaac pecks the side of your neck, humming quietly, "Hmm?”.
“…Can we actually get a cat?”. You had asked him a few times - albeit playfully.
"You were serious about that? If getting a pet is a necessity for you…".
You nod slowly, turning to face him. “I think it’d be a nice addition to the family. It’s too early to think about having kids, but getting a fur baby would be nice, no? Besides, you said you always wanted a pet as a kid”.
He hums again, leaning his head on your shoulder while stroking your arm in thought, “You have no idea how tempting the idea of a family with you is… It is too early, though, yes”. He nods, “My mom was good with animals. I always wanted a pet that I could play with, like a dog or maybe a cat, but my grandfather was allergic to them”.
You glance down at him, softly patting his head. “Would you prefer a dog, then? Puppies are cute too”.
He shakes his head, his reply coming in swift and shrap, “No”. “A dog needs to be walked daily. I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you leaving the house periodically, anything could happen. No”. Your hand pauses, before you sigh quietly. As much as he tried to hide it, his paranoia was still clear as day. Baby steps.
“A cat doesn’t need to go outside”, you mumble, kissing his forehead. His breathing slowed down as he laid against you in silence, “A cat it is…”.
You sit up straight, mouth hanging open, “No way- seriously?!”. Isaac laughs at your sudden enthusiasm, “Calm down, Kitten. We'll go to the shelter in the morning, we'll pick out a nice cat, I'm sure. But for now just focus on your sleep, you won't be able to if you're this excited."
You snuggle back into the pillows, gigging happily, “Ah~ I’m so happy right now! What breed should we get? Oh- and are we getting a boy or a girl? Ah- we should probably buy a bed too right? And proper food? And those cute scratching posts! Are we adopting a kitten or an older cat? Or maybe- mmpf”.
Isaac cuts you short as you babble, silencing you with a gentle kiss, “Slow down, Kitten. You realize it is 3 in the morning, right? Can you at least wait for the sun to come up before you start planning our feline's every move?”.
You rub your neck sheepishly, “Sorry… I’m just excited!”. He can’t help but smile at you, cupping your face between his hands carefully, “I know, Pickle. Let’s sleep first and discuss the details tomorrow, hmm?”.
“Mmh. Good night, Isaac”, you peck his cheek. He returns the favor before closing his eyes.
“Isaac?… You didn’t brush your teeth…”.
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© chol1na
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rubykgrant · 19 days
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Idea for a Magnus Archives AU (that I don't have time to write all the way out, but it still intrigues me~)
At some point after Martin's father left, but when he was still very young, somebody offered to bring Mrs Blackwood some furniture. Used, but still in good condition. She refused, insulted by the idea that she needed "pity" or "charity", despite the fact that her health is already making things difficult... one day, while her son is at school, she hears a knock at the door. It takes her a while to get there. When she finally opens it, whoever knocked is gone, but they have left behind a table.
She assumes it was the same person as before, and is now irritated that they have "dumped" their old junk on her doorstep. A neighbor sees and offers to at least bring it inside. She decides it may as well be put to use, so she lets the neighbor move it in. Alone in the house, she looks the table over. It certainly isn't new, but isn't too beat-up or broken. It has a VERY unique pattern... almost like an optical illusion...
When Martin gets home from school, he's surprised to see that his mother is in the kitchen, getting ready to cook dinner; she hasn't done that in a year! He offers to help, or just make himself a sandwich and canned soup if she wants to rest, but she assures him that she's feeling MUCH better. This continues for several months, the doctors are amazed by what seems to be a miracle recovery! All the neighbors and old friends agree, she's also had a change in attitude lately, but it all seems for the better. Her son is especially happy... his mother seems so much more "gentle" than she used to be, and she doesn't even make him drink oolong tea with her anymore. She's decided that Earl Grey is better.
Nobody notices that her hair is a different length, a different color. Nobody notices the shape of her eyes and jawline has changed. Nobody notices that she's taller. Not any friends, neighbors, doctors, or family. Even all the photographs in the house have changed. A different woman is holding a tiny, newborn baby. A different woman is sitting next to a small Christmas tree, helping a child open a present. Nobody notices... except for one person.
When Mr Blackwood heard from an old friend that the wife he left had recovered, he suddenly had second thoughts. He really had thought she would die, and he must have had some sort of break-down. He couldn't handle it, so he ran away... but he's thinking clearly again. It has nothing to do with the fact that he also heard his wife recently got a new job, a very well-paying one with the kind of health plan that a spouse could share. It has nothing to do with the fact that he isn't feeling well himself lately, and he's noticed that he has nobody to take care of HIM. It has nothing to do with the fact that he hasn't been able to find work, and he also can't find a place to live. He just wants to go back because he misses his wife and son. That's all.
When Mr Blackwood returned, he brought flowers. To apologize. He knocked on the door, and heard a muffled voice call- "Come in!". He picked a time of day when he knew Martin would be at school, so he and his wife could reunite with some privacy. He expected his wife to be upset. He expected his wife to be angry, maybe cry, or try to throw something at him. He expected it would take time for his wife to let him explain, then forgive him. He expected HIS WIFE. The woman in this home was not his wife... she said she was, she smiled, used his name like she knew him, but she WASN'T. Her voice, face, EVERYTHING was different! This was wrong, why was this strange woman here?
He ran away, even though she called for him to stay. He tried to speak with their friends, her family... everybody acted like he was crazy. They acted like the woman claiming to be his wife was right. After months and months of trying to talk some sense into people, he finally remembers Martin; surely a child would know their own mother? Mr Blackwood has been watching the house, and he sees little Martin kiss the woman good-bye, then leave for school. As if everything was normal. He can't stand it anymore! He bursts through the door, shouting at the woman to tell the truth, but the noise alerts the neighbors, who call for help, and he leaves...
He stays away for more than a year, but he never went far. He kept watching. He tried to figure out WHY somebody would pretend to be his wife, and HOW she could fool everybody. It never makes any sense. He comes back again, in the middle of winter. Martin is sleeping over at a friend's house. Mr Blackwood has been sleeping in an old treehouse, long abandoned by the kids who built it. He can't stand the idea of that strange woman sleeping in the bed that SHOULD be his (that would have been his, if he hadn't left). He uses his key to open the back door. She hasn't changed the locks. He goes in, ready to be rough if necessary; he will get the truth if it kills him.
Around 2 in the morning, Mrs Blackwood calls for help. Her husband, the one who left her, the one who came back and threatened her, just tried to attack her! She fought back, and he ran off again. No trace of him is ever found. When Martin comes home, they have a discussion, and decide it isn't safe to life here anymore. So they move, not too far, Martin can still visit people he knew growing up. The new house is much nicer, in a safe neighborhood.
They take just about everything with them, except for a few large pieces of furniture they sell. Mrs Blackwood wants to keep the table with the unique pattern, though. She's grown rather fond of it. The movers she hired are... odd, but they get everything to the new home very quickly. When his mother speaks with the two of them beside their truck, Martin watches from a window, and he has the strangest feeling that... his mother might just step up into it, and ride away with them. Then she'll be gone, and he'll be alone. He can't explain why, but he almost expects it to happen.
She doesn't leave. She comes back inside, smiling, and hugs her child. Why wouldn't she? As the years go by, Martin wonders about his father; why the man left, why he came back, why he seemed so confused about who his own wife was. Martin also wonders what his father looked like, as none of the pictures they saved show his face. Mrs Blackwood tells her son- "I suppose there's a resemblance, but when I look at you, I just see YOU, not him. I love you too much to see your father in your features".
Martin grows up happy and safe with his mother. He's able to finish school, and eventually starts working at a bakery. Later, when he moves out to get his own place, he finds a job at a restaurant-confectionery in London. His mother didn't want him living so far away, but he really wants to sort of "get out in the world", have some experience on his own. Someday, he'd like to have his own tea shop and cafe. He works from the middle of the day to late shifts at the cafe, and he gets to know some of the regulars very well. One woman, Sasha, comes in often to get food and drinks for her coworkers. Martin likes chatting with her, and eventually meets Tim when they come to have lunch together. He considers them to be friends.
One day, they call and tell Martin they want to order the most extravagant cake possible for their boss; it is his birthday, and they are going to be obnoxious about it, but also trick him so he doesn't know they've planned something. Martin offers to bring it over himself, so they can pretend to not be up to anything. This is how he enters the Magnus Institute. This is how he meets Jonathan Sims. This is how he starts learning about the strange things they research here. This is how he sees a picture of a table with a very curious pattern. This is how he asks if he can listen to the statement about that table...
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lupinmoonlight · 11 months
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Submission Part 2: Establishing Rules
Masterlist AO3 Submission Part 1 Submission Part 3: Obedience
Summary - You finally gather up the courage to approach Professor Lupin and share with him your desire to give up control to him. He agrees to take on that role for you, but not without establishing clear rules and boundaries.
Warnings - teacher/student relationship, heavy D/s undertones, professor/sir kink, rules, mention of pushing limits, mention of safeword, self-degradation, mention of masturbation, my grammar.
Notes - It is NOT necessary to read part 1 to read this part. I don't know what this is, but I am planning to make this extremely kinky so brace yourselves. I am also aware that this is very out of character for Lupin, but it's nice to have a little fun with him :')
It had become an obsession now. An unhealthy obsession. Every night, once everyone in the dormitory had drifted off to sleep, you would slip a hand down your pyjamas, touching yourself to the thoughts of your professor bending you over his desk, gripping your hips as he rammed into you, telling you to take it and calling you a good girl. It was wrong, so very wrong and filthy. But you loved it. You wanted him to take control of you, to dominate you. You were so desperate for it that you would take anything he'd give you.
In his classroom, it was even worse. Though you attempted to maintain some form of self-control, your body betrayed your inner turmoil. The slightest instruction from him would cause your cheeks to flush crimson and a familiar warmth to spread through your core to the point you sometimes had to excuse yourself to the bathroom to regain your composure. It was pathetic. You were pathetic. The feeling of self-loathing was inescapable.
But even so, you found yourself at the professor's office door. Your body seemed to possess a will of its own, determined to get what it craved the most: submission. You were terrified. What were you going to tell him? What would he say? Was he even capable of all the things you imagined him doing to you? He was the kindest and softest man you'd ever encountered. Surely, he would gaze at you with his gentle eyes, wearing an expression of concern, and wonder if you had been cursed or something. But you didn't care. It was your last year at Hogwarts and you had nothing to lose, except maybe your dignity.
With a gentle knock, the wooden door creaked open, revealing the towering figure who held your thoughts captive.
"Y/N! Good to see you. Is everything alright?"
He was already concerned. Great.
"Professor. Yes, everything is okay. I just wanted to talk to you about something," you lied.
"Of course. Come in, come in!" he said warmly.
You tentatively walked in, your knees already about to give out when the scent of him filled your nostrils. It was intoxicating.
"Cup of tea? I was just about to make myself one," he asked.
"Please, that would be great," you lied again as you sat in the chair facing his desk.
"So, what can I help you with?" he asked as he placed two steaming cups of earl grey tea on his desk before taking a seat in front of you.
You didn't know what to say. Suddenly your mind was blank and you were ready to bolt out. You took a sip of your tea to give yourself time to regain your composure and set the cup back on the desk a bit harder than intended.
"I-I haven't been…feeling myself lately…" you began.
He stayed quiet, studying your face and giving you time to continue, but you couldn't find the words. How could you tell your professor to use you, dominate you, degrade you, hurt you, love you in an appropriate and respectful manner? You couldn't.
As if sensing the seriousness of the situation, he flicked his wand casually to ward the door of his office, his eyes never leaving you.
"I don't want to be in control anymore," you finally blurted out without thinking. You closed your eyes shut and held your breath, bracing yourself for the worst.
He was quiet. Too quiet. And you felt stupid. You could feel the tension in the air, almost suffocating you. You wanted to leave, to obliviate him and yourself and go back to your pathetic fantasies.
"Look at me," his voice had changed, now carrying an authoritative tone that you hadn't heard before. You opened your eyes, hesitantly meeting his gaze. The warmth in his eyes was still there, but there was a new intensity as well.
"Can you explain what you mean by 'not wanting to be in control anymore'?" he asked, his tone surprisingly even.
You took a shaky breath and tried to put your feelings into words. "I-I want someone else to take charge. I want to be told what to do. I want to give up control, but to someone I trust."
His silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity, the tension in the room almost palpable. His gaze softened for a moment, and then his expression darkened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, his eyes piercing through you.
"You're very brave to come to me with this," he said, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I understand that this is a significant and personal request."
He paused, considering his words carefully before continuing. "If you truly mean what I think you mean, it is highly inappropriate for a professor to engage in such a relationship with a student," he continued, his tone serious.
"However, I appreciate the trust you place in me and am willing to provide you with the guidance and structure that you need," he said sternly. "If you truly want me to take control, then I need you to understand that this isn't just about fulfilling your fantasies. This is a responsibility, and I take it seriously."
You swallowed hard, feeling a sense of relief that he didn't reject you. All you could do was nod slowly, unable to even look at him.
"Good," he said, his tone softening lightly. "Before we proceed any further, there are a few things I need to make clear," he began, "this is a choice you've made, and you have the right to change your mind at any time. I will only proceed if you are fully comfortable and consenting to everything we discuss."
Your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest. You nodded again. You didn't trust your voice. You didn't even trust yourself not to combust if you looked up at him, so you kept your eyes trained on the desk.
"There will be boundaries and rules that must be adhered to. For the sake of maintaining our professional relationship, these rules will differ inside and outside of the classroom," he continued, his tone shifting to a more authoritative one.
"From now on, in the classroom, you will address me as 'Professor Lupin' and behave as any other student would. No special treatment, no exceptions," he continued, his voice unwavering.
"Outside of the classroom, when we are alone, you will address me as 'Sir.' You will follow my instructions and adhere to the boundaries we set. Should you ever feel uncomfortable or wish to discuss any aspect of our arrangement, you will do so respectfully and openly."
You nodded, your pulse quickening at the thought of addressing him as 'Sir.'
He stood up and walked around the desk, stopping just a few feet away from you. "Furthermore, our arrangement will never interfere with your studies or safety. You will be expected to complete your assignments, attend classes, and maintain your grades. I will not tolerate disobedience or dishonesty, and if you fail to meet my expectations, there will be consequences."
He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. "Do you understand and accept these terms?"
"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes what?" he pressed, seemingly unsatisfied with your answer.
"Yes, Sir," you quickly corrected yourself, feeling a thrill at the simple act of addressing him in this new way.
"Good," he said, his voice softening slightly as he returned to his seat.
He looked at you intently, gauging your reaction. "You must understand that I will not hurt you in any way that you don't explicitly consent to. This means that we will establish a safeword or signal, something that you can use to communicate your need to stop or pause our interactions. This will be a non-negotiable aspect of our arrangement. The safeword will be 'chocolate'."
Your heart pounded in your chest, but you managed to nod, understanding the importance of his words, although you didn't think you would need a safeword. You didn't want one. You wanted to give yourself up completely, but you knew better than to argue.
"You are expected to maintain the highest level of discretion regarding our arrangement, as it is important to maintain the integrity of the student-teacher relationship in the eyes of others," he added, pausing to look you in the eye.
"I understand, Sir," you agreed, feeling a little intimidated but also excited.
"While you are under my guidance," he continued, his voice deepening with authority, "you will follow my instructions without question. You must trust me completely to provide the structure you need."
"Lastly" he said, his voice firm, "know that I will be pushing your limits, but I will always prioritize your well-being. If at any point you wish to end this arrangement, you have the right to do so without judgment or negative consequences."
You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and care behind his words, and felt a new sense of trust and connection forming between the two of you. It felt surreal. You had been fantasizing about this, obsessing over this. But now that it was happening, you were suddenly terrified. Terrified of disappointing him, of not being good enough.
"Come here," he commanded, gesturing towards himself. You obeyed, your heart pounding as you stepped closer to him. He shifted in his chair, parting his legs for you to stand between them. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks. You had to fight yourself not to drop to your knees right then and there.
"Look at me," he instructed, tilting your chin up with his fingers. You raised your eyes to meet his, they were warm yet there was a darkness in them, a subtle reminder of his control over you. "Tomorrow in class, I want you to wear your hair up, so I can see your neck. It will serve as a reminder of our arrangement. Do you understand?"
You nodded, your breath hitching at the thought of exposing your neck just for him. "Yes, Sir."
"Additionally, you are to meet me at my quarters after dinner," he continued. "Be punctual and prepared. Is that understood?"
You swallowed hard, the anticipation growing inside you. "Yes, Sir,"
He held your gaze for a moment longer, then released your chin. With a flick of his wand, he removed the ward from the door. "You may go now," he said, his voice returning to the softness you were familiar with. "Remember our rules and your instructions."
Feeling flustered, you managed a quiet "Thank you, Sir," before turning to leave the room. As you stepped out into the hallway, your legs felt weak, and your heart raced. This was really happening, and the thought both thrilled and terrified you.
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cameronspecial · 4 months
Text
Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 7)
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of Drug Use, Drinking and a Relapse.
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 2.0K
Summary: Time flies by when Y/N is home but eventually she has to go back to London. One argument leads Rafe to his next spiral.
Masterlist
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Y/N sits at the kitchen island with her laptop in front of her and a mug of Earl Grey tea beside it. She is looking at different flights back to London. Cole has finished his scouting of the Outer Banks for work, which means he is heading back home, so Y/N thought it would be a good time to go too. She takes a sip of her tea as Mason enters the kitchen. “Ugh, we should’ve figured you would’ve stayed in England forever when you started drinking tea,” he grumbles tiredly, rounding the counter to rest his head on her shoulder. He takes a chance to look at her laptop. “No… You can’t go back. You just got home.” Y/N turns her head to look at Mason, “I’ve been here for almost two months, Mace. London is my home now. Just like how Toronto is now also your home. I need to get back to watch over the bookstore.” Mason gives her a pouty look. 
“But, dude, I miss my sister. You haven’t been back in five years.”
“I know, but it’s not like you can’t visit me in London. I have lots of space there for you. Sparky would love to share his dog bed with you.”
“Haha. That’s hilarious. Please stay a little longer.”
“I can’t, Mason. I love you, but I’m going back in a week. See, I’ve already booked my ticket.”
She points towards her laptop screen at the ticket she bought while he was trying to convince her to stay. At this, he groans and runs his hand down his face. “Dude, you suck,” he complains. Y/N looks at him with sad eyes, “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for a ticket for you to come visit me. I promise.” Mason looks at her with reluctant eyes and gives her a small smile. “Fine, but you have to buy me all the food that I want.” “Deal,” she agrees with a massive grin face, happy that she could cheer her brother up. 
——
Why the universe kept leading her to her ex-boyfriend’s ex is beyond her comprehension. Blythe stares at Y/N working on her laptop in the booth near the window. Blythe honestly likes Y/N, but with her recent break-up with Rafe fresh in her mind, she doesn’t really feel like sitting next to the girl that plagues his mind. Seeing as the coffee shop is filled with customers and she does not want to go back to the hotel to work, she has no choice but to ask the girl to sit across from her. She is tired of seeing the four walls of her hotel room. “Can I sit here?” she asks Y/N. The bright smile on Y/N’s face makes Blythe think that Y/N isn’t aware of the break-up, “Yeah, of course.” She takes her seat and gets to work on the paperwork she needs to do today. 
After about an hour of doing work, it’s clear the girls are running on steam, so Y/N offers to get them something to eat and drink. She returns to the table with a smile, placing the food in front of Blythe. “So what’s it like working for a hotel franchise?” she inquiries to Blythe. The hotel heiress awkwardly looks at her because she really doesn’t feel like talking, “You know, it’s here and there. I love doing the work but I’m nowhere near ready to take over.” 
“Makes sense. I mean with the wedding, I’d imagine it would be hard to juggle planning and a CEO change.”
“So you really haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Rafe and I broke up.”
“Was it because of the drugs?”
“Well, that certainly explains his behaviour. I guess in a way it is because it has changed how he acts. But I think it was mostly because of you.”
“Me? I promise you that I haven’t told him to break up with you or hinted that I wanted to get back together with him.”
Blythe gives her a raised eyebrow, not because she doesn’t believe her, but because the answer should be obvious. “I know you would never do that, Y/N. It’s just that, even after all these years, you’ve had this big place in his heart that I or any other person, I think, couldn’t fill. He was always meant to be for you and I think seeing you again triggered this realization for him. The universe wants him with you,” Blythe explains as gently as possible. 
Y/N looks at her with questioning eyes, “If the universe really thought that Rafe and I were meant to be, then why did it bring Cole back into my life the day we saw each other at the club? I felt pulled to go to the pool there, which doesn’t normally happen.” Blythe gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t you get it? A part of your healing was being able to move on from the past. The universe might have brought you to Cole, but why does it keep bringing you back to me? I think, as some cruel joke, I meant to help you come to the same realization that Rafe came to a long time ago. That he is the one for you.” Not having anything more to say, Blythe packs up her stuff and leaves the coffee shop, leaving Y/N to wonder if what the outgoing girl said was true. 
——
Rafe had been going strong with resisting the temptation of putting any substance that could intoxicate him inside of his body. He has been doing anything that could keep his mind off of her, getting high or drunk. Working until early in the morning, helping his sisters with whatever abstract thing they could think of, doing garden work. Thankfully, it helps. Rafe enters the house on the phone with Mason. As he walks through the door, he sees his dad waiting for him at the front entrance. “Mace, I gotta go,” he mutters into the phone before hanging up. He has been avoiding his father since the break-up, knowing that Ward wouldn’t be too pleased with what happened. However, it seems Rafe couldn’t run any longer. “I don’t want to talk about it, Dad.” Ward shakes his head and approaches the boy, “Well, too bad because that’s what I want to do. How could you break up with Bltyhe? She’s perfect for the family!”
“She was going to break up with me anyway, I just did it before she could. And she may have been perfect for the family, but she isn’t perfect for me.” 
“Then who is Rafe? You haven’t been on a date with anyone other than Blythe since high school. How are you supposed to find that person if you don’t give anyone a chance?”
“We both know that I already found her. I just don’t know where we stand at the moment.”
“Y/N is not perfect for you. You are going to take over the company, here. She lives  in England.”
“What if I wanted to go to England with her? You’ve never asked me what I wanted when you were planning my whole life for me. You never asked me what I had planned. You’re lucky that I didn’t get into any of the English universities that I applied to. Because if I did, you’d probably never see me again.”
“Yeah, It’s because you weren’t smart enough for the British universities! Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn’t think you would be good enough for anything else? That maybe that’s why I insist on you taking over Cameron Development! Because you aren’t capable of doing anything not handed to you on a silver platter.” Ward’s cruel words are like a slap in the face. All of Rafe’s insecurities come back to him and all he knows is that he needs to escape. 
——
Y/N wakes up to the buzzing of her phone. Not bothering to check who it is, she answers it, “Hello?” His slurred speech is the first thing she notices. “I need you to pick me up,” he demands into the phone, even if she can’t see him, she knows he is waving his arms around as he gives the order. She sits up completely and rubs the sleep out of her eyes, “Rafe, are you drunk? Where are you?” He slurs out a couple of words she can’t understand and then hangs up. She tries to call him again but he doesn’t answer. She swings her feet over her bed and goes to wake up Mason. 
——
She drives up to the address Mason gave her, thanks to Find My Friend, to find Rafe stumbling around the front yard. She parks the car and then hops out to retrieve him. “There she is! The girl I should be marrying,” he mumbles, walking right into her arms. She shakes her head, dragging him towards the passenger side of the car. “What are you talking about? Rafe, are you drunk?” she asks, but when she sees his dilated eyes, she knows the truth. “Please tell me you aren’t high. Tell me that you kept your promise.” He hops into the passenger seat and looks at her as though he has been caught committing a crime, which he technically is. Y/N looks at him with a broken heart, “I really wish you kept your promise.” He just sighs and she goes to the driver's side. “You don’t know what I had to deal with this afternoon,” he grumbles, crossing his arm and turning toward the window. 
“Was it your dad? About the engagement?”
“Of course, it was my dad! WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE?” 
“You don’t need to yell at me. You shouldn’t let your father get to you like this. And drugs aren’t going to solve all your problems, Rafe. You need to talk to someone.”
“Like you’re one to talk. I know part of the reason you broke up with me is because of my dad. Plus, the only person I want to talk to is currently upset at me for doing drugs. You don’t get it. I need the drugs to forget about you.” 
“Rafe… I don’t even know how to process any of that, let alone answer it. I had my reasons for our break up. You know that.”
“That’s what you keep saying. But I don’t know why you couldn’t talk to me about what was wrong. We told each other we would always tell each other about what we were worried about. And you didn’t do that. Why didn’t you do that?” 
She looks over at him with dejected eyes, turning her head back towards the road. Y/N doesn’t want to answer his question, telling the truth would make her too vulnerable and she doesn’t need to feel like that right now. She continues the journey towards his house. She parks in front of it and doesn’t say anything as he gets out of the car. “Thank you. I’ll stop bothering you from now on. You won’t hear from me again,” he murmurs without giving a single glance towards her. When she sees he entered his house, she starts hitting the steering wheel with tears running down her face. Y/N couldn’t keep her feelings in anymore. 
Rafe gets into his room and yells without a care as to who he might be waking up. He grabs the glass on his bedside table, throwing it onto the ground. He watches it shatter into millions of pieces and chucks something else onto the ground. The door to his room creaks open. Wheezie peeks her head through the door, “Rafe, are you okay?” All he can do is scream at her, launching the alarm cloak he is holding at the door. She yips in fear, closing the door to protect herself. He finishes his attacks and slams his back against the wall. He lets himself slide down so he is sitting. Rafe buries his head into his hands and lets out a gut-wrenching sob. Both Y/N and Rafe went to bed that night with pain in their hearts and one question in their minds. Will they ever find a way back to each other?
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