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callmewrinkles3 · 1 year

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All Too Well - DR3 x Fem!OC

Summary: Saying goodbye is hard. Saying goodbye to your family without telling them it’s a final goodbye is even harder. But Em has come to terms that Dan doesn’t love her the same way she loves him, and leaving on her own terms will hurt less than being told he’s ending things. March 2022.

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: fighting, all the angst this bad boy can carry, lil bit of a dickhead!Dan, running away from your friends, mentions of death, mentions of motorsport crashes and deaths, moving without telling anyone, lying to family, talk of medical procedures, frank talks about what people want to happen if they can’t decide.

A/N: We’ve kept you waiting, but we hope this was worth the wait! This part of our story is what started us on this madcap adventure together, and it’s a lot of what makes our beloved Em Em. Thank you in advance!

Em stared at the two boarding passes in front of her as she sat in the fancy Heathrow lounge, a caramel latte beside them. Heathrow to Dubai, Dubai to Melbourne. More than twenty hours spent on planes to get to Melbourne, to jump into work and get stuck in at the Australian Grand Prix. And it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She should be excited. She should be so happy because she was about to see the boys after over a week apart, she was about to see Dan. She was finally going to get to see the Ricciardos after almost two years apart. But she was dreading it, the memories from Saudi filling her head as she thought. Em forced her attention to the laptop sitting on her knees, emails up and the one she never thought she’d write sitting in the middle of the screen.

SUB: Resignation Letter

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Blake,

Please use this email as my official resignation, effective immediately. I’m sorry that I can’t offer any more notice.

Working with you has been fantastic, and I appreciate everything we’ve gotten to do over the past three years.

Kind regards,

Emma.

Signing it Emma felt wrong. Emma was for Zak Brown and Andreas Sidle. Christian Horner had used it the one time she was introduced to him at Red Bull. She was always Em or Ems now. Except for Dan, she was his Emmy. But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Or ever again. If he called her that she thought she might lose the last grip she had on her composure and break.

The email was scheduled and sitting in her outbox to send after the race, and the last thing she did before boarding was reschedule her flight home. Instead of leaving Monday morning with the boys, she was going on Sunday evening. She’d be somewhere over Queensland by the time Blake received the email and the boys would be at least twelve hours behind her. It was enough time to make sure she could be well ahead of them and get away.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be smiling and laughing, and she was supposed to be in Perth right now cuddling her niblings and laughing with Grace and Joe. Learning to cook yet another family recipe and insisting that she and Dan were just friends. She couldn’t even answer the question honestly if they were friends now.

He’d sent her away. The one thing she begged him not to do, the pinkie promise she’d made him give. The only promise she had ever asked him to keep. Not to stay safe while driving, not to do anything else. Not to leave her alone. The near screaming match they’d had in his drivers room that Blake and Michael had to break up. The way he didn’t even look at her but told Blake to “take Ems to the hotel”. How she had tears streaming down her face as she was escorted through the paddock like she wasn’t supposed to be there.

She still didn’t fully believe that she’d dropped her phone in the car. Em shouldn’t even have been in the car alone with Blake, but Dan insisted she went to the hotel room so she went. She was left there alone in Saudi Arabia, where Dan knew she couldn’t leave the hotel. She stared out the window at the smoke from the rockets, completely alone all night until Michael knocked on her door the following morning and she had to pretend everything was fine.

She’d worked from hospitality and as soon as the race finished she changed her flights to go back to London instead of Perth, making up an excuse. And Dan bought that she was going back for her parents.

“Family stuff.” She’d said when he asked.

“Em, you don’t talk to your family much.” She was folding clothes into her case, the one she’d brought that had her Australia clothes already standing fully packed.

“Yeah, but it’s family. My parents have their thirty fifth wedding anniversary in a few weeks, I’m helping plan it.” Only the last part of her words were a lie and she bit her tongue.

“Everyone wants to see you, they all miss you and they keep asking when you’ll be over. The kids miss you.”

“I’ll see them in Melbourne, Dan. You go, enjoy your time at home with them.”

She’d gotten a car to bring her to the airport and Dan hadn’t even asked a question, just a “text me when you land”. There was no hug, no even quick hand squeeze like they usually did in the Middle East. That’s when she knew whatever they were doing. The nearly four years of sleeping together and pretending they weren’t, of the media wondering who she was and why she was always there, was over.

She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to catch feelings, that it was just sex. That she could do it. That every time she told Dan “y’know, right?” it was purely platonic. That the slow sex was just them wanting to take their time, nothing else. That she hadn’t murmured to Dan to make love to her in Bahrain when they shouldn’t have even been sharing a room after Grosjean’s crash, when he kissed her and held onto her and whispered that he loved her as he entered her.

Because that was sixteen months ago and nothing had changed. It was never going to change between them. Their fight in Saudi had proven it, and now she had to pretend that everything was fine before she said goodbye to the people she loved for the last time.

She couldn’t keep working with Dan when not sleeping with him. She couldn’t watch him fall for another woman, couldn’t get introduced to more people as “Em, my best friend” anymore. She was his Emmy. He was her Danny. And not getting to love him and be loved by him how she wanted to was going to kill her.

The flights were what she expected, Dan had upgraded her tickets to first class like he always did and she wanted to kill him like she always did. She spent the flights and the layovers organising his calendar for the next three months, tracking his flights and cross checking the sponsor events that had been filled in. Everything up to Hungary was booked and ready to go. She checked her watch when she was halfway to Melbourne, realising that he’d be at the Optus event she was usually on his arm for. She was supposed to be there this year, but she told him to take Michelle instead. All the events around the Australian GP that she always went as his plus one, wearing the star necklace he’d gotten her for her birthday, and the matching earrings that were her Christmas present the same year. Her outfit was usually one he’d bought for her against her protests because “let me spoil you” was how he showed that he cared, and she always wore the gold moon ring on her thumb that matched the sun one she’d bought him for his little finger. Most of her wardrobe and all of her everyday jewellery were presents from Dan. Her life was completely entwined with his, and untangling it all was going to hurt.

Her flight got in at god-awful o’clock that Wednesday morning, she’d lost a full day having left London on the Monday evening, but she walked through Melbourne customs with her suitcase glad to just be through. She’d told everyone she’d get an Uber to the hotel and meet them for breakfast, but instead as soon as she appeared in front of the glowing Melbourne sign two small figures ran to her yelling.

“AUNTIE EMMY YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE HERE!” Em dropped her bags and fell to her knees, arms wide open to pull Isaac and Isabella into her and pressing so many kisses to their curly heads.

“I’m here, I’m here. I missed you both so much. So, so much. I’m so sorry I couldn’t see you, I wanted to see you sooner.” Stupid Western Australia and closed borders and not letting people through. Her eyes began shining as she took in the difference in the two kids, Isaac at least a foot taller and losing the childlike way he’d spoken. Isabella had doubled in size, long hair and a child instead of a toddler the last time she’d seen her in person.

“It’s ok, you’re here now! Nana said you’ll sit with us for ev’rything ‘cept the race? Cause we’ve got two years of birthday and Christmas pressies for you!” Isaac looked so proud, grinning as he took her wheeled carry on and pulled it.

“I can’t wait. Who’re you here with?”

“Grandad Joe! He has our sign, Uncle Mike and Uncle Blake told us we had to use all the glitter. We were gonna wait, but I saw you and I wanted a hug. Is that ok?” He looked almost worried of her response, but she ruffled his hair.

“It’s more than ok. All I wanted was hugs from the two of you.”

Isabella clung to her waist, Em lifting her up with one arm and mentally thanking Michael for the strength training that let her carry the girl and pull her suitcase with her. She looked around to see Joe holding a giant piece of bright orange card, Auntie Emmy written on it in blue and silver glitter. It was the shiniest thing she’d ever seen in her life, and it was coming home with her even with the craft herpes that would infest her suitcase. Joe pulled her into a one armed hug on the side his granddaughter wasn’t monopolising, pushing a kiss to the side of her forehead that made her want to cry.

“We missed you, kiddo. Grace wanted to be here but we couldn’t fit her in the car too, and Dan’s doing media today. You cut it tight to get in.”

“It’s my parents wedding anniversary next week, I’ve been helping. I have to fly out after the race on Sunday.” It was Wednesday, and she could see his face fall as he realised how little time they’d have together.

“We’re spending as much time with you as we can until you go. Those boys get you all year round, we get you for this weekend.”

“That sounds perfect.”

When they made it to the hotel Em was greeted with yet more hugs from Grace, Michelle, and Michelle’s husband Adam. There were tears in everyone’s eyes at the reunion, and the long hug from Grace was the best thing ever and broke her heart at the same time. It was so restorative, so good, but she wasn’t going to get many more of them.

“Dan checked you in, here’s your key. He’s got the room on the other side of you, Blake’s on the other wall, we’re most of our corridor. Do you want to get some sleep and we’ll call you at noon?”

The first thing Em noticed about her room was the adjoining door between her room and Dan’s. She closed the lock gently to make sure she was completely alone. After that she napped fitfully, waking up to knocks on the door and yet more hugs. The day was spent going to the zoo, kids hanging out of her as she swung them around and gave piggybacks, feeling exactly like part of the family. Blake told her to take the day off for jet lag, and she wasn’t complaining.

That evening was filled with fun as the kids clung to her while she pulled out the first of so many presents. Chocolate first so she could see their faces eating proper chocolate rather than the Australian stuff that didn’t melt in the heat. The bag of duty free was quickly eaten between everyone, a movie on tv as she filled everyone in on what she had been doing. It wasn’t until after eight that Dan appeared wearing a suit.

“Ems! I thought you were coming with me tonight?” She looked up from where she’d been half dozing with Isabella curled up against her, taking in her best friend wearing a navy blue suit and white shirt.

“Coming to what? I’m taking today for jet lag. What’s tonight?”

“The AusGP reception. You always come!” Confusion was written all over his face and Em swallowed once, looking at him carefully.

“I said I wasn’t doing anything this year. I have to leave pretty much straight after the race, I don’t have time.”

“Emmy, please.” She hated that she couldn’t resist him when he did that, when her name curled around his accent like that.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” This was the closest they’d ever come to an argument in front of his family. Their eyes were going between them as if watching a tennis match.

“I got you something.”

“Dan, you can’t do that.” It was pointless to argue but she had to try make her point. She couldn’t just do everything because he wanted her to.

“I did. C’mon, it’s three hours and some schmoozing and we can come back so you can go to bed. He did his best impression of puppy dog eyes, lifting Isabella from her. “You want to see Auntie Emmy all glam and pretty, right Is?”

“Yeah! She’s always pretty.”

“You’re very right. I left the dress in your room, Ems. Please?”

“Fine.”

She said her goodbyes and went into her room, making sure the adjoining door was locked before going into shower and change. As she walked into the bathroom she thought she heard the door rattle but ignored it, forcing herself to take time to put herself together.

Years travelling around the world had taught her how to make herself look presentable in very little time, forcing her to learn how to do a blow dry with a hotel hairdryer. It took less than an hour to have hair and makeup perfectly done, a wrap around her shoulders and a pair of heels on her feet. The dress Dan had picked was perfect for her. It was lavender, knee length with a corset top, and her jewellery worked perfectly with it. He had taste when it wasn’t about party shirts. Once she was ready she picked up a clutch and knocked on Dan’s door. He opened the door confused, but ready to go.

“I thought you’d use the adjoining door? It’s why I got us these rooms.”

“I’m tired, Dan. Can we just get this over with?”

The launch was like anything else, an event to deal with. There were speeches and then wandering around the room, Dan’s hand hovering at her lower back but not quite touching her. She smiled as she was introduced as “meet Ems, she’s my best friend and my manager’s assistant who keeps my life on track”, even while her heart was breaking. But she kept her cool, finally managing to break away from Dan for a few minutes to chat to Ted and Natalie from Sky while Dan did the rounds.

“I didn’t know if you’d be here. I was talking to Michael yesterday, he said you weren’t in Perth with them,” Ted remarked as Em looked at the almost empty glass of champagne in his hand.

“Is this going to end up as gossip on the notebook if we talk?” Nat nearly snorted with laughter, Ted shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Nope. I’m drinking so I’m officially off work duties. Unless you have any gossip about things? Anything that I can attribute to an unnamed McLaren source?”

“I don’t work for McLaren, thankfully Zak doesn’t sign my paycheque. But no, I’ve got no gossip. There’s some family stuff happening so I have to head home pretty much as soon as the race is over. But I needed to see everyone, it’s been almost two years and I missed them.”

“Fair.” They chatted about the season so far, studiously ignoring the controversy around the last race, until Dan arrived back to make excuses and get them to leave the party.

“Back to the hotel?”

“You read my mind.”

The car ride back was the most awkward one the two of them had ever done and Em didn’t know what to do. Usually if they were in a car alone together they’d be curled into each other or at least holding hands. But she was on her side of the SUV, Dan was on his, and the hand she’d stretched into the middle as a peace offering was ignored. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with that. Didn’t want to know, really. All his actions did was solidify that the painful decision she’d reached was the right one. Just because things could be easy didn’t mean they were right.

When they reached their floor in the hotel Dan stopped outside her hotel room as Em waved the keycard at the lock.

“Night, Dan.”

“But I thought…”

“What?” She was sharper than she should have been, but she was jet lagged and tired and heart sore.

“I thought we’d be sharing a room.”

“Your family are two doors down and the kids are here. The chances of at least one of them knocking on my door before I want to get up in the morning are high, and I don’t want to have to explain why we share a bed when we’re not married. Do you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Exactly. I’ll see you in the morning.”

As soon as the hallway door closed behind her she double checked the lock on the adjoining door before flipping over the door lock. If she’d looked out the peephole she would have seen a confused and disappointed Dan standing in the hallway.

The next few days passed in a haze of having the kids around, working, and ignoring Zak. She knew he was the original source of the rumours the year before, he was the one who got Mazepin to start spreading that she was sleeping with all three of her boys. It was her greatest pleasure to get to tell him no, and she did it with joy.

But in between finalising as much as she could before her resignation was sent she had time to wander Melbourne alone. She loved the city. It had always welcomed her in, it was Dan’s home race and the place where she knew everyone adored him. Em wandered around a craft market, finding a jewellery maker who made gold charms and engraved them on the spot. It took her all of ten seconds to buy two and get them put on different coloured leather cords, one each for Isaac and Isabella. The front had a pair of angel wings for each of her angel kids, and the engraving on the back read love you forever, Auntie Emmy.

Leaving her family behind was going to be the hardest part of this, and she needed to make sure that they knew just how much she loved them. Em was so aware that she was about to be the first adult to choose to walk out of their lives, and she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to break their hearts the way hers would break too. She just hoped that when they realised she wasn’t coming back they’d know she wanted to tell them how much she loved them.

Practice and qualifying were shit and she felt her dislike of the team growing even stronger. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to deal with the stupid orange team and the way that they were favouring Lando already. Dan was the one who won a race last year, not Lando. He was the one who had proven himself with podiums galore. But they didn’t care.

That night she left the door between their rooms unlocked. Her bags were half packed, her resignation email was scheduled to send and she’d triple checked the timezone on it. Em had spent the last two days hugging everyone as much as she could, surprising Chloe by popping into the Aston garage before a practice and waving to Lance and Seb as she pulled Chloe into a giant hug. Scotty got one too, trying to put the love and care she had for her best friends outside her boys into a hug. There were waves to the people she couldn’t hug because rumours would start, giving Susie a recommendation for the restaurant they all ate at the night before so she and Toto could have a family meal with Jack in privacy. The small things to make sure everyone knew she thought about them and loved them.

Em couldn’t sleep straight away. Nights before races were hard, the crashes she’d watched with her own two eyes usually playing in her head. Dan in Anthoine’s car, Dan in Grosjean’s. Dan in Lewis’s place the year before with no halo. Dan in the rain and a tractor on track. All the ways she knew people had died racing she thought about and she couldn’t deal. Her fear every time Dan slid into his seat in the car was all encompassing but racing was his first love and she could never ask him to stop.

She was about to get up and go down to Michael’s room to ask for some melatonin, but the doorknob between the two rooms rattled and clicked open quietly. Em stayed still as she was, breathing in and out steadily.

Dan slipped into the other side of the bed. If she just opened her eyes she’d be able to see him. If she reached her fingers out slightly she could touch him. It was the first time they’d shared a bed since Bahrain and being just over covid and she wanted him to hold her. Her body was screaming to curl into him and tell him she loves him and she’s his and she doesn’t want him to fall in love with anyone else because she wants him to love her. To choose her over all the models in the world he could have.

She didn’t sleep that night, too aware of his presence in the bed. She could hear his snores but she didn’t dare look up at him, didn’t dare move in case she disturbed him. He needed his sleep the night before a race.

As the morning dawned through crappy hotel curtains she could feel the vibrations from the alarm on his watch, the one he always used to try let her get some extra sleep when he needed to be up early.

Please kiss my forehead. Please, Dan. Please just give me any sign you want me to stay. Don’t leave me again.

Every morning was the same when they shared a bed. He’d delay until the very last minute to stay in the warmth and then kiss her forehead in goodbye. And then he’d leave, not content to get out from there until he made sure she knew he said goodbye.

This time he slid out of the bed without touching her, padding across the still room and going back into his. Em heard the lock slide shut on his side and rolled over, tears filling her eyes.

It hurt so much already, how was she supposed to pretend that everything was fine? How was she supposed to act normal around everyone when she wanted to scream that they were over and nothing would ever be the same again? How could she be okay when she felt like this?

He’d left her alone. Again. He hadn’t even touched her but he’d slept in her bed and she never thought Dan could be so cruel. She never thought he’d leave her with the barest hint of his scent, that if she hadn’t been awake she wouldn’t have known he was there. The ache spread through her chest and she tried to quiet her sobs but it hurt. It hurt so, so badly.

A cold shower soothed her puffy face, getting rid of some of the usual redness while makeup did the rest. She was dressed in her usual race day gear of shorts, vans, a McLaren polo, and a Dan hat on her head by the time there was a knock on her door, Michael standing there.

“Hey, I’m heading in with Dan and Blake now. He said you’re going in with his family in an hour?” Another cut in her heart. More space between them. But she schooled her face into a smile, hoping Michael would believe everything was fine.

“Yeah. I said I wanted as much time with the kids as possible, it’s fine. See you there?”

“See you there.”

Michael was a couple of metres away from her when she stepped into the hall, grabbing her room key from the slot just inside the door.

“Michael?” He turned and she half jogged, pulling him into a tight hug.

“What’s this for?”

“Haven’t seen you as much. You know you’re my brother, right? How lucky I am to have you as my family?”

“You’re the most annoying little sister Ems, but you’re my little sister. I’ve missed having you around.”

“Miss you too.”

She watched him walk away as step one of her goodbyes was done. The next was to go to breakfast with everyone and pretend that things were normal for the next few hours until the race was over. She could do it. She had to.

Breakfast with the extended Ricciardo clan was fun, Isabella still clinging to her and Isaac insisting on sitting beside her. She soaked up every moment she got with them, walking out to the car Dan had arranged holding Isabella on her hip.

“That’ll be you in a few years,” Michelle commented as Em struggled with the car seat buckle before getting it right. “The mother, not the cool aunt. We can swap places.”

Another stab to her already mangled heart. “I dunno. Wait and see, but I’m not sure that’s on the cards any time soon.” Considering the only man she wanted to have a child with didn’t want to be with her, it was a no.

You’ll be a good mother, Em. Plus you’ll have loads of family around.” She wanted to scream that she was leaving her family behind for good this afternoon but instead she just smiled tightly. It was too close to home. She couldn’t keep this conversation going. It hurt.

The race matched her mood. The strategy wasn’t good, the car was a tractor, and the oblique team orders to not let Dan try overtake Lando made her want to scream. The team points would be the same, but no. Not for his home race even. The crowd were amazing and let out loud cheers every time the orange car made its way around the circuit, but it wasn’t enough and Em knew it. It hurt. Her last time at a Grand Prix, her last time cheering for the man she was so deeply in love with, and the team and car had let him down again.

The plan was already to delay debrief till Monday so Dan got to spend time with his family, and Em decided to head to the airport nearly immediately. She couldn’t stay any longer. She couldn’t deal with any more hints from Michelle about a niece or nephew in the future, couldn’t listen to Grace or Joe talking about how much they’d missed her. She couldn’t spend more time with Blake and Michael without wanting to break down and tell them that they had changed her life and she wouldn’t make them choose between her and Dan.

Because that was what it came down to. She was the last one in this group that was all united by their love of Daniel Ricciardo. She was the one who loved him so deeply it hurt, the one who loved every single member of the group to the moon and to Saturn. And she loved them so much she couldn’t bear to have them walk away from her. Because that was what would happen.

Her own blood family didn’t choose her. They saw her as a disgrace, as a failure because she was thirty one years old, unmarried and without kids. They didn’t realise that she was the one who kept Dan on schedule, who organised sponsor events and filtered out the crap he and Blake didn’t need to know about. She stopped the balls from falling out of the sky. Because she was just an assistant.

And if the people who gave birth to her wouldn’t choose her, she knew the family she’d built wouldn’t either. She was never the one who was chosen, and she didn’t blame them. She was just Emma. Danny was Dan. She knew who she’d pick if given a quarter of a chance.

She’d just finished packing when the adjoining door opened, Dan walking in already speaking but stopping when he saw the case by the door, her carry on full with the edge of the orange poster getting folded in.

“Where are you going?” His tone was accusatory and she steeled herself for the argument.

“Home.”

“Emmy…”

“Don’t Emmy me, Daniel! You know I have to go back for the anniversary.” She turned to look at him, watching as confusion turned to anger.

“And I also know that’s bullshit. I’ve known you for how many years, Em? You’ve visited your parents twice. Michael was with you one of those times, the visit lasted twenty minutes and even he didn’t have anything nice to say about it. Michael. Who has a good thing to say about almost everyone. So tell me the truth, why are you leaving now? Why not get on the flight with us tomorrow?”

“Because I have to go back.”

“Don’t lie to me Em!” He raised his voice and Em gave as good as she got, staring back at him.

“You want the truth, Dan? All of it?”

“Yes! That’s all I want, it’s all I’ve ever wanted with you.”

She took a deep breath, staring into his brown eyes for the last time, soaking in that even so angry he was so beautiful. She’d had the privilege of sleeping with him for nearly four years, of loving him for three. Whoever got to do that next would be so incredibly lucky.

“You left me alone. The one thing I ever asked of you, the only thing I ever asked you to promise me was to never leave me alone. I begged you. Whatever was going on, whatever was happening with us, please don’t leave me alone. And then there were bombs flying and I watched one explode and you made me get into a car and leave. You made me stay alone, and you didn’t come back to me that night. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know if you were even alive because I didn’t have my fucking phone until the next morning and all the news was in Arabic. You were gone to the track before I knew what had happened. You left. You broke your promise, Daniel.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” It was the worst thing he could have said.

“But Blake and Michael got to stay. Angela stayed with Lewis, don’t try to lie to me and tell me she didn’t. Britta stayed with Seb. You sent me away, Dan. I was sobbing and begging you to stay and you made Blake drive me away. You made me leave when I was scared.” She let her words sink into him fully. “Just leave. Get out of this room and leave.”

“Emmy…” His voice was soft and she blinked back the tears she knew she wanted to cry. Not until the airport. Not until then.

“GET OUT DAN!” She yelled at him for the first time, shock on his face. “JUST LEAVE! It’s what you’ve been doing this whole weekend, just leave.”

“Fine. Fine. If that’s what you want, I’m fucking gone. I’m done here, I’m gone. I’ll be downstairs in five for you to say goodbye to everyone.” She watched him walk through the adjoining door and lock it as Em’s heart completely broke in two. She’d ruined it. He was done. He was gone. He was leaving and she was going and she would never speak to him again because her Daniel wasn’t hers anymore. One person down, eight to go.

She brought her bags down to the lobby alone, everyone standing there waiting to say goodbye. Michael got a hug, she’d said everything she needed to earlier that day. Blake was beside him, wrapping her in a full body giant one and holding her tight.

“You know I love you, don’t you? I really love you.” Blake grinned and pulled her close again.

“Love you too, Ems. Moving beside you was the best decision I ever made.”

Saying goodbye to Michelle and Adam was hugs and whispers of seeing them for Christmas when she knew it was a lie. Grace pulled her into a hug that only a mother figure could, whispering in her ear.

“We’re coming over for Silverstone and yours and Dan’s birthdays, so we’ll see you then. We love you Em. If you need anything I’m only a FaceTime away. Don’t let them get you down when you’re with your family.”

“I love you too, Grace.”

Joe got a hug and a murmured love you, his hand patting her back soothingly. The kids were last, sulking as Em squatted down in front of them.

“So I got my angels a present to say goodbye, cause I know I didn’t get to see you lots. Want to see them?” There were identical nods and Em strapped the bracelets on, Isaac’s on a black cord and Isabella’s on a purple one.

“It matches the one I made you and Uncle Dan,” Isabella murmured as Em pulled her into a tight hug.

“It does. It’s a reminder that I love you both so very, very much. No matter how far away we are, I’m always going to love you, okay? Don’t ever, ever forget that. Pinkie promise me?” She held out her little fingers, laughing as they both enthusiastically took part in the ritual. She pulled them in for a final hug, pressing kisses to both of their heads.

“See you on winter break!” Isaac grinned as he spoke, Em putting a tight smile on her face.

“We call it summer break, but I’ll see what we have to do then buddy.”

“Do you want a lift to the airport? I’ve got the rental?” Joe asked but Em shook her head.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got an Uber coming, I just want to get on the road. It’s hard enough to say goodbye to everyone I can’t drag it out much longer.”

“Fair. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Joe.” Her phone buzzed with the notification that her driver was there and she started towards the door. Dan still hadn’t come down and that was it. He didn’t love her. He didn’t feel anything like how she did because no matter what he’d said, he’d never make her leave. But she made him leave. He was gone.

She was almost at the door when an oh too familiar voice called across the lobby, running up to them.

“I didn’t think you’d be leaving already.”

“My Uber’s outside, I need to leave.”

“Oh.” There was none of their usual hugs, none of the subtle kisses he pushed to the top of her head when they were separated. He didn’t even squeeze her fingers. It was like they were strangers. “Send a text when you get to London?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She turned to get her luggage into the car, shielding her face from everyone with her hair. The driver lifted it in and she was soon safely ensconced in the back seat, tears falling down her cheeks as she waved goodbye behind partially tinted glass.

“Was that Daniel Ricciardo?” The driver asked, Em forcing a smile.

“Yeah, I work with him.” It was true for another five hours at least.

“He seems like a good guy.”

“He’s one of the best.”

Tears streamed down Em’s cheeks the entire way to the airport, through the fancy check in area and security, and following her into her first class pod. She mostly ignored the staff apart from nodding at them, continuing to cry and wipe her eyes on tissues. The tears barely stopped until Dubai, only aided by Blake’s near constant texts as soon as her email sent.

She knew when she arrived in London that she had about twelve hours before the boys landed, Blake texting even while he was on his flights. She sent a I got back safely, receiving another flurry of responses.

Em, what’s this email about?

What’s going on?

Tell me you didn’t mean to send this

Is it the travel? Do you want to slow down? Why?

Ems we need you. How am I supposed to tell everyone you’re not coming with us anymore? Did you meet someone? Did something happen?

We’re about to land in Heathrow. Dan’s going to his place and looks miserable. I’ll be at your door in less than two hours.

When she got the final text Em grabbed the bags she’d hastily packed with clothes and the things she needed for the next eight days until the boys had left London for Imola. The address of the last minute airbnb was in her email, getting an Uber to it handy. She was long gone by the time Blake arrived, sitting in her temporary home for the next while and planning what she had to do. They’d leave England on the Wednesday, she had five days to empty her flat.

It started with an email to her landlord to give up the lease. Her family reasons excuse was accepted quickly, the landlord told she had to leave London and the apartment would be vacant from the end of the month. After that she had to start planning on where to go to.

There were too many memories in London. Nearly every street reminded her of Dan, of days walking around hand in hand to show him her London, not the tourist one he knew. The city she’d moved to at eighteen with a dream and a student loan and where she’d discovered who she was. Dan was everywhere in the city for her - memories of their first kiss in the pub she’d spent too many hours in, museums she’d dragged him to, streets he’d stolen a kiss from her at with a grin and a chuckle when they were waiting to cross the road. The cafes and greasy spoons she’d brought him to with the promise of not telling Michael. She couldn’t stay there, it was too much.

But everywhere she thought of had memories of him. Filthy weekends away when they were at home because of covid, eating out to help out and driving to Manchester or Glasgow to spend time together and have hotel sex. The midlands were completely out because of Silverstone, of memories of Enstone and the Renault factory, of Milton Keynes and his goodbye from Red Bull.

The only big city she could think of without a memory of Dan - with only one memory of her boys - was Liverpool. Which meant her parents. Which meant a conversation she never wanted to have. Calling her mother wasn’t like calling Grace. But she didn’t have Grace in her life anymore, so she had to do it.

“Emma, what country do you deign to call us from today?” Her mother answered the phone, disdain dripping from every word.

“Good morning, Mother. I’m in England. I was calling because I need to ask for a favour from you.”

“Yes?”

Em swallowed, teeing up words on her too thick tongue. “I had to leave my job, they didn’t have the funding to keep me on. I was wondering if I could move home for a few weeks while I’m applying for new jobs. I want to leave motorsports, there’s too much travelling and I want to settle down.” She hit every keyword that her mother had as she checked her bank account balance, spotting her final pay deposited in the account. It was more than healthy thanks to travelling so much for work and Dan covering that under work expenses. But she needed to be sensible, and renting somewhere without a job would be a mistake.

“You can. You will need to pay rent while you’re here.”

“Of course. Just let me know how much. It wont be for long, it’s just a few weeks. It’ll be like I won’t even be there, if I’m not interviewing I’ll be in my bedroom.”

“Fine. Let me know when you plan to arrive.” She sounded bored of the conversation already.

“I’ll be back April twenty fourth. I can send you the train details then.

“See you then.”

The difference between the call with her mother and a call with Grace just cut the wound in her chest even harder. Grace never let a call end without a million “I love you”s between them. She made sure that Em spoke to everyone in the family, and if Joe was out at the garage she took a message and told Em that he loved her. Instead her mother hadn’t even asked if Em wanted to leave a message for her father.

It felt so, so wrong.

The list of things she had to do before the boys left for Italy was beginning to shrink, but there was still so much to do. She ignored Blake and Michael’s texts, refusing to even open them. The chats were archived so the red dots didn’t irritate her. Dan didn’t send her anything at all, yet more proof that he meant everything he said in Melbourne. He was done with her. She didn’t realise that emotional pain could hurt this much. She’d never believed in soulmates, never believed in fate. She always thought that if a relationship ended she’d get through it. But now? This not quite a relationship over? It ached to her core.

Friday morning she had an appointment with a solicitor, walking in with a tear stained sheet of what she wanted to leave to different people. She’d always fought with Dan about being prepared if something happened to him, not wanting to know what he left her. She was one of the two people who could decide what medical treatment he got if he couldn’t consent. She’d cried when he told her that day in Spa when they got that tragic news what he wanted if he was in a crash like that. That he trusted her to not let him stay on machines. Some of her nightmares included his plaintive “I don’t want false hope” that made her ache.

She didn’t trust her parents to not do the same for her. They’d keep her hooked up to machines for as long as possible, they’d insist it was for “hope”. Em didn’t know what hope, but she knew them. They’d barely spoken for five years apart from occasional texts and birthday cards, they didn’t have the right to decide what happened to her.

It was a blustery Friday morning when she walked into that office and signed the papers to say Daniel Ricciardo, Blake Friend, and Michael Italiano were the people who decided what would happen if she couldn’t make her own medical decisions. She gave the lawyer the makeshift will that was handwritten and tearstained. It was simple - her cookbooks and exercise equipment to Michael because he was always trying to adapt her recipes. All but one piece of her furniture to Blake. Her CDs and DVDs to Dan, along with the coffee table he kept falling over. Her collection of Dan’s raceworn helmets to Isaac and Isabella. Dan, Grace, and Michelle were to divide her jewellery between them based on who wanted what. The rest of her belongings were to be sold and the money put in Isaac and Isabella’s college funds. It was too easy.

Even after everything that had happened, even after walking away, she trusted her boys more than she trusted anyone else in the world.

After all of that her final task was to organise her storage unit and movers. That was easiest of all if Em was honest. A call to a moving company who agreed to put everything in the unit without her there, and walking into a storage company. She signed a two year contract and paid the full rent then and there, surprising the man at the counter. Now she was able to disappear.

The texts kept coming from Blake and Michael. WhatsApp and iMessage, even a signal account she’d forgotten she had on her phone. Michael sent her instagram DMs so she deleted the app instead of trying to avoid reading them and appearing online. But finally it was Wednesday and she knew exactly when the boys were flying out of London City Airport. She’d organised the private flight for them, booked the plane and made sure the flight was as clean as possible. As soon as they’d take off her plan could start.

Walking back into her apartment felt too normal, just checking her post and finding it mostly full of letters from Blake. Get in touch, we’re worried, we miss you. Sentiments she knew he’d share but it would be easy for him to forget about her. The letters went out in recycling and she began to pack up her life.

The boxes were settled easily. Storage, donating, and Dan’s stuff. The ones for him filled quickly, clothes and accessories and things he’d left lying around the apartment that had become theirs instead of just hers. It took three boxes to get rid of the sense of him.

The storage boxes were easier, but the final thing she had to do at four that Sunday morning was decide what to do with her helmet wall. Ever since Monaco and his win, Dan had given her his race worn helmet for any new race design. She could name which race each of them was from, and in the middle was her Monza win one. McLaren had wanted it for the MTC but Dan refused to give it over, insisting it was his and he was keeping it. They got the trophy so he got the helmet. And then he put it in the middle of the IKEA shelves that they’d spent a weekend putting together and laughing.

Part of her - a large part if she was truly honest - wanted to donate them. Get rid of them for the clean break she insisted she needed. But she couldn’t. They were the good parts of the last four years, the best part of her life and the reminder that for years she got to love Daniel Ricciardo and travel the world with her best friends. Once she was settled somewhere she’d put them all back up to get her and explain to whoever asked that she was a part of Formula One for a short while, and it meant so much to her.

It took longer than she expected to get them wrapped carefully and boxed away. Two just about fit in one box, but they were light at least. When they were carefully labelled with the races, a tear falling from her eye when she wrote Monaco 2018 on a box in looping letters, she sat down to write notes to her boys. They deserved more than a resignation email and leaving without saying goodbye but if she saw them in person she wouldn’t walk away. She was barely strong enough to do that the first time. Em couldn’t do it again.

Dan’s took the longest. It started with anger. How could you make me love you when you didn’t love me back scrawled angrily, tears staining the lined pages as she wrote everything. But she couldn’t give it to him how she’d written it. She couldn’t deliberately hurt him. It wasn’t Dan’s fault that she’d fallen in love with a man who couldn’t love her back the way she wanted him to love her. It was her fifth draft, still tear stained, that was the one she was giving him.

Danny,

I’m sorry I didn’t say this in person but I couldn’t do it. We both know that things between us haven’t been working for a while. It’s nobody’s fault. I guess we just wanted different things. It happens to us all. But we’re both done and writing this is easier than another long conversation and another fight.

Go be happy. I’ll cheer you on from wherever I end up, no matter what. You’ve changed so many lives, mine included. Thank you for the amazing years and experiences. You let me do things that so few people ever get to do and I can’t thank you enough for that.

Emma

Michael and Blake’s were harder and easier. She only needed one attempt at them, trying to wipe the tears before they fell.

Blakey,

I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for leaving you in the lurch, but I made sure that everything logistically is booked until the summer break. Just get him where he needs to be on time, you were always better at that than me.

I love you. You’re my big brother and i wasn’t going to make you choose between me and Dan, that was never going to be fair. I’ll be happy and I want you to be happy too. Find a girl and settle down or bring her around the world. I’m rooting for you the entire time.

Will you make sure everyone in the paddock knows I love them? Tell Chloe and Scotty to get their wedding planned. Chloe will be the most beautiful bride and I’m so sorry I won’t get to see her in person. Scotty will look ok, I guess.

Thank you for everything.

Love,

Ems

PS - the extra key is for my storage unit. A1 Storage in Wimbledon. Figured you’d be a good person to have it.

She folded Blake’s letter into an envelope and labelled it before writing the last one. Somehow this was the hardest, having to ask Michael to do what she couldn’t.

Mike,

I’m sorry for leaving and I’m sorry for asking you to pass a message on but I know you will. I love you so much. You made lockdown bearable even when I was being a bitch, and you made me actually enjoy exercising you cruel man.

Tell everyone that I love them and I’m sorry? You let me know exactly what a family is and how I deserve to be loved and that’s something I can never thank you enough for. Ever. I can’t make people decide between me and Dan. He wins every time and that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’s easier if I just leave.

Tell Grace and Joe I love them and I will forever be grateful for their love and support. Let Michelle know that she’s the best big sister ever. Please make sure that Isaac and Isabella know that I love them no matter what. It’s not their fault I left and I will always love them. Whoever gets to be their auntie is the luckiest person in the world and I wish it got to be me.

Tell all your family I love them, and ti voglio bene to Nadia and your Nana. I love you all so much, and I’m cheering you all on from wherever I end up.

Love,

When the movers came she handed them the key to the storage unit, letting them know what to do. Everything was out of the apartment in a few moments and Em took a last look around her almost empty apartment. The memories were suffocating. Dan tripping over the coffee table, the London lockdown when they got back from Australia and they lied to Michael about what the yoga mat’s primary purpose was. The way Dan danced with her in the dark kitchen, distracting her from finding food for them in the fridge and getting them to sway in the silence. The kisses and living together like he loved her the same way she loved him.

He’d been blowing up her voicemail since Wednesday and she deleted them I listened to. The first “Emmy” hurt her too much, so she decided to practice self preservation for once. As soon as her voicemail said “you have an unlistened to voicemail from Dan” it was deleted. The same with Blake and Michael. She couldn’t do it.

Finally it was time to leave, and she carried Dan’s boxes one at a time into Blake’s apartment. The three were stacked one atop the other, the letters on top of them. Em stared at her thumb, at the moon ring that had been there since Dan bought it for her calling her his moon on dark nights. She couldn’t bear to take off the three necklace hanging on her chest, but this she had to leave behind. She wasn’t his moon, and he was too bright to be her sun.

She slipped it off and rubbed her finger against the warm gold, pushing a kiss to it before stepping back. The final thing she needed to do was leave the envelope with her medical power papers and will on Blake’s coffee table before she locked the front door and slipped his keys in his post box. It was done. She was gone.

The tube to Euston was quicker than expected and she joined the trek to the Liverpool train, settling into her seat a few minutes before they were due to pull out. Her phone lit up with a notification that the race was about to start, illuminating the photo from lockdown of her and Dan holding Isaac and Isabella. They looked like a family. Em unlocked her phone and pushed her thumb firmly down on the F1 app to delete it. A clean break.

The train pulled off exactly at two, her mind echoing Crofty’s “lights out and away we go”. Dan was in the car and racing and all she wanted was a good points finish for him. But she couldn’t check. She couldn’t let herself find out what he was doing.

Her tears fell harder as the train pulled into Milton Keynes, the memories of the last time she’d done this train journey as Dan’s plus one. His leaving Red Bull party, staying in a hotel with him the week before they flew to Perth for Christmas. It was the only time she’d gotten to visit the impressive Red Bull factory. Meeting Max properly, Christian cornering her with his wife - and keeping her cool around Geri fucking Halliwell - to ask if she could convince Dan to come back. Getting whisked away from Helmut quickly when he tried to speak to her, meeting the mechanics and team that she’d seen at several races properly for once. Yet another place she could never visit again because all she’d think about was Dan.

Em made herself stop crying shortly after, pushing a cold bottle of water to her eyes. She couldn’t be red eyed or puffy seeing her parents. It was bad enough returning with her tail between her legs. She didn’t know if she’d survive the I told you so.

When Dan got out of the car in Imola he knew what he had to do. His first stop was being weighed and getting his slip, Mike pushing one of those AG1 drinks into his hand to down to get electrolytes and water back into him. After that it was media rounds, apologising to Carlos, and doing media. Once the debrief was finished it was London. He needed to get to Emmy. For the second time he’d gotten on a plane when he should have been with her and he needed to apologise. Needed to make things right.

“The jet will be ready when we finish? I need to get back to London tonight.” Michael handed him a McLaren branded shirt and pair of skinny jeans to put on once he was out of the shower.

“It’ll be ready. Mate, you need to know that she might not want—“

“She’ll see me. It’s Em. She’s my Emmy. She’s going to see me and I’m going to tell her everything. I can’t do this without her. I can’t. I dunno how I did it before.”

“Ok. Go shower and head out.”

The debrief was painful. Lando on the fucking podium, Dan last. They wrote off his technical debrief after the collision. It was clear Dan couldn’t have done anything, and the rest of his race was nothing to write home about. He should have just retired. It was shit and he just had to listen to how Lando had a flawless race and was extracting the most out of the tractor McLaren had built. He had to wait until it was over, half listening and taking notes while stewing.

All he could think about was Emmy. He hadn’t reached out because he thought she needed space, wanted time. He’d had the fucking ring in his pocket in the hotel room and then they’d fought and he couldn’t exactly get on one knee and ask her to marry him after that. But now she was gone and she’d been gone for weeks and he didn’t know. He needed her to be ok. He needed to go home and see her on the couch and beg for her forgiveness because he was hers. His apartment was so fucking lonely, driving in and out of the factory without seeing her. Without going to sleep curled up beside her and waking up with the fairy lights glowing as she read whatever dog eared book she was rereading that month.

The voicemails were being listened to. Her inbox went from full to empty and he kept texting, determined to get through to her. Needing her to talk to him. To say anything at all. People kept asking where she was, he laughed it off and gave the excuse of family stuff. Natalie had nodded and said she hoped Em would be back soon. Chloe had looked at him oddly when she heard the excuse but he shrugged and moved on. The elder Stroll could be terrifying and he didn’t want to get on her bad side. Not even Scotty could save him from that.

There was nothing he could do but wait to be freed. The moment they were able to break - after Dan apologised to the mechanics for the job they’d have to do on the car - he was on his way to the driver room. Blake and Michael were already there with bags packed and ready to go.

It was a two hour flight to London and they landed at nine. After forcing their way through traffic in a black cab it was after nine thirty by the time they arrived at Blake and Em’s building. Dan stepped out of the car and grabbed his bags, heading straight upstairs to the two identical doors. He didn’t realise when it became more normal to stand in front of Em’s door than Blakes, but it had years before. He knocked twice to no response.

“Em? I’ve got my key, I’m coming in.”

The lock turned easily with the familiar key and Dan set his bags down to flick the light switch. What he saw terrified him.

The room was empty. The couch that killed his back, the coffee table his shins hated, gone. The bookshelves and the kitchen table they’d spent a lockdown day building, gone. Her helmet collection was missing. Em had once told him that if the building went on fire she would save whichever helmets she could. If they were gone, she was gone.

He ran to her bedroom but everything was missing. The fairy lights they’d taped up with double sided tape. Her bed. The throw cushions he laughed about. Even the case at the bottom of her wardrobe with the lingerie he’d bought her was gone. Her pink boots weren't there. It was like nobody had lived there for years. He couldn’t even smell her perfume in the air.

“Dan?” He hadn’t realised tears were streaming down his face when he turned to see his best mates standing in the doorway. “Mate, you need to see this.”

He followed them back to Blakes, pausing to lock Emmy’s front door. She had to come back. The idea that she wouldn’t come back was impossible.

Until he saw the boxes.

Three of them, neatly stacked almost up to Blake’s chest. There were three envelopes on them, and a glint of gold on top of one. He nearly ran to it, ignoring the post race soreness going through his body to see the ring he’d given her sitting on top of the one neatly labelled Daniel.

She’d used his first name. Emmy never used his first name unless something was wrong. He’d fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to open it.

Instead he held the ring firmly in his palm, the metal cold against his hand. She was there. She had been there and now she was gone and he didn’t know what to do. But instead he followed what Blake and Michael had done and opened his letter.

It was how impersonal it was that killed him. Em was done. She’d be fine. Thanking him for bringing her around the world and letting her work with him. She didn’t want another fight and she thought he was done with her.

She didn’t love him like he loved her and for a brief moment that made him want to die. The moments they’d shared, the times they’d said they loved each other. The times he’d held her and traced I love you down her back or against her clit when he was eating her out, desperate for her to know but too afraid to say it. The 'y’know, right?'. Everything from the last nearly four years. None of it had ever mattered because she wouldn’t have married him. He had her ring in his fucking ever present backpack and thank God he hadn’t tried to propose because she’d have said no and he’d have been humiliated.

“I guess you were right. Buying the ring was a mistake.”

His choked voice broke the silence, but it was Michael who got the next sentence in, cutting off Blake’s question about the ring.

“Mate, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“She doesn’t love me like I love her. I was wrong. I just got my heart broken so please, don’t rub it in right now?”

“Did you read any of what she wrote?”

“Yeah. She’s done. She thanked me for letting her travel with us. Like she didn’t earn her place. She signed it Emma. I was wrong, ok? I was wrong and I can’t take you rubbing it the fuck in when I think Im gonna break.”

“What happened? Because the two of you were fine in Bahrain, and then after Saudi she disappeared and skipped Perth, and she was barely in Melbourne. What happened with you?” Blake was the one who asked, Dan flopping on the couch beside him. He held out his much shorter letter for them to read.

“Things were weird when we got back after Christmas. Then we had covid and got through it. And Saudi fucking happened. With everything going on and keeping her safe I didn’t see her till after the race and she was already leaving. And in Melbourne we… We had a fight.” The memories of what he’d said were circling again, the anger between them, Em telling him to leave again. Him walking away.

“We thought that much. You didn’t even hug her goodbye.”

“She told me to leave!”

“In self preservation.” Michael’s voice was low and Dan was almost afraid of his best friend. “She said she didn’t want to make us choose between you and her, that she knew we’d pick you. So she left. I have to tell your fucking family she’s gone, by the way. She asked me to. So you’re going to tell me everything that’s happened between the two of you and we’re going to fix this. What the fuck did you do?”

He wanted to be annoyed that he was being blamed but he couldn’t blame the boys. So he let everything out.

He told them about wanting to kiss her in Blake’s that first night, of Monaco and their agreement that it was over once she left Monaco. Coffee and Silverstone and her birthday drinks. Spa and I love you when they were faced with the reality of what could happen with his job again. Em begging him to never leave her behind, that no matter what he wouldn’t leave her alone. Her dick of an ex who’d destroyed her self-esteem and meant she lost her friends. The meaning of 'Y’know, right?', the phrase that had been their mantra since 2019. That he hadn’t slept with anyone else since he’d met her because he just knew she was supposed to be his. That he’d bought the ring when they spent Christmas 2020 together but was just waiting for the right moment. And then in Saudi she’d been sobbing and he sent her away. He made Blake take her away from him. From them. He’d broken his fucking promise and again in Australia he walked away when he should have stayed in that room.

She’d picked the fight. She’d picked it so she’d be left alone and leave and the realisation of how well she fucking knew him hurt so much. She knew him like the palm of her hand and for a minute he forgot about it.

“Let me get this straight. You’ve known just how shit her family is for longer than any of us, and I’m the only one who’s actually met them. She asked for exactly one thing from you which was don’t leave her alone. And in Saudi, one of the countries she’s most scared of being away from us for any length of time, you made her go back to the hotel and stay there on her own. She begged you to stay and was sobbing and you left her to cry when she asked you to stay? I could fucking punch you right now.” He nodded at Michael’s words, shame filling every cell in his body.

“You made us leave her alone.” Blake spoke and Dan thought he was going to be sick. “In Melbourne. The morning of the race. 'Em’s going with my parents. She wants family time.' She didn’t know she was going with them, did she? Why?”

“She… I… No. We weren’t ok. I didn’t know if I could be in the car with her. Not after that night.”

“What happened?”

“I… Fuck. She kept the door between our rooms locked that whole week. But Saturday night it wasn’t locked. I had a habit of just trying it, just in case. It was open and I went in. I just lay down on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep for a while before falling asleep. I left before she woke up. She didn’t know, she was asleep the whole time.”

“You think our Ems was asleep for a full night before a fucking race? Are you an idiot? Did you get brain damage in that crash today? She doesn’t fucking sleep! You slept in the same bed as her for four fucking years and you don't know that? She’s into me for melatonin every damn night because she can’t sleep worrying about you. She was awake that entire night and you left her without saying a goddamn word and then you abandoned her again. Again, Dan. Don’t tell me you did something stupid and cheated on her like her fucking ex.”

“I never cheated. I haven’t touched another woman.” The thought made him sick. “I’m not that asshole. You know I’m not.”

“I don’t mean to be funny Dan. She lived beside me for nearly five years. She’s my friend. And now her apartment is for rent, your shit is here, and she’s told us all goodbye and to give messages to the people she loves. So you might not have cheated on her, but you broke her. It took us four years to help Em feel like herself again and put her pieces back together and you broke her.” Blake was opening another envelope mixed in with the post on his coffee table that Em had left in as he spoke, eyes widening slightly. Before he could get the words out Michael had to.

“You’re telling your family, by the way.” His voice was solid, a way Dan had never heard before. “She asked me to tell them but I can’t. I can’t break those kids hearts and tell them their auntie Emmy loves them forever but she can’t see them again. I can’t tell your sister that she’s lost a sister, and I can’t tell your parents that you ran off the woman they want you to marry. That the woman your mum teaches family recipes to had to leave, because you fucked up that much. You know she’s their second daughter, right? Even before whatever the fuck you’ve been doing started they adored her. From Monaco. Em’s lost the only decent mother she’s ever had because of you. She didn’t want to make us choose but if she was here right now I’d choose her over you any day.”

“If you think she doesn’t love you, read this.” Blake held out a package of papers, Dan skimming them.

Everyone in his line of work was familiar with leaving a will behind. The fucking academies basically demanded it at this point. He’d put Emmy on his own medical power of attorney form after Spa, told her what he was leaving her when she was ready for that conversation after Roman nearly died in Bahrain.

But Emma wasn't racing cars every weekend, so she didn't need the papers she signed. She didn't need to leave a will behind, but his name was there to make decisions for Em. She’d left him specific things. The cold fear snaked up his spine, tightening around his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

“She wouldn’t. She won’t do anything stupid. It’s Em, she wouldn’t.” The words came out as a rush but certain. She wouldn’t hurt herself. God, he couldn’t live with himself if she did.

“It’s probably just a precaution. But Jesus Christ, Dan. She’s gone. We have no idea where she is, we don’t even know what country she’s in. We don’t know what kind of head start she has and with the amount of frequent flier miles she has she could be anywhere. We can probably cross off here and Australia, but that doesn’t take away much.”

“I need to leave.” Dan turned to see Michael pick up his bag. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk. I’ll email you workout plans. She’s my fucking sister, Dan. She’s my little sister and I trusted you knew what you were doing with her. She said goodbye to me and I didn’t even know. You… I can’t look at you right now. I’m this close to quitting too because I don’t know you anymore. The Dan I grew up with? He would have said something. He wouldn’t make the woman he kept saying he was going to make his wife run away. He wouldn’t make her feel unloved. Just work out what you’re going to do. I’ll be on the plane to Miami but I don’t know if I’ll see you before then.” Dan watched as his oldest friend, the man he’d known since primary school, who’d supported him through thick and thin, walked out of the apartment into the London night.

“She’s gone. She’s really gone and she’s not coming back. I… I have to find her, Blake. I can’t do this without her.”

“You need to work out what you’re doing. You need to tell your family she’s gone. You need to do your job. We’re all hurting right now and yeah your heart is breaking. But its my job to do tough love and tell you that you need to work first and then think about her.” He stared at Blake in shock. “I’m pissed. But work first. Em somehow managed to take everything off my plate when she was leaving, because she didn’t want to make things hard on me. Go home, Dan. I have to call Chloe Stroll and tell her Em’s not coming back.”

“Not yet. Please. Let me f—“

“I’m telling her. You can hide it from the media, from your family, whatever. Chloe is Em’s best friend outside us. Do you really think she hasn’t tried calling Em already? Really?” Dan nodded once. “Go home. Your place, not the empty apartment next door you called home. Go home and get your shit together. Em would kill you if you fucked up a race over her.”

Dan got an Uber on his phone, taking his bags downstairs along with his letter from Em. He slipped the moon ring onto his little finger, settling it just above the sun. He needed her back. He just didn’t know how to find her.

#call it what you want fic #ciwyw writing #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo oneshot #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula one fanfic #formula one imagine #daniel ricciardo x ofc #daniel ricciardo x reader

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vox-ex · 6 months

Text

desk

Supercorptober 2023

“People are a lot more knowable than they think they are.” ― Sally Rooney

or a preque and a sequel to day 3 - Kara

---

There are a couple things that are important to know.

One is that Lena Luthor has a specific ringtone for Kara Danvers.

Two is that she never brings her personal phone into the Monthly board meeting that happens on the second Thursday of every month.

Third, whenever there is a concerning report about Supergirl on the news, Jess notices that Kara Danvers always calls.

Today is the second Thursday of October.

So Lena did not see the news.

Did not see Supergirl bleeding on the ground.

Did not see the camera cut out before she could get up.

And it wouldn't usually worry her so much.

Except Kara hasn't called.

"Jess?" Lena's confusion is palpable, etched across her features as Jess opens the door a little harder and a little quicker than she probably meant to.

"Ms. Luthor, I'm sorry—I'm so, so sorry to interrupt, but…" The sound of her own voice rang through Jess's ears as she stammered out the words. They get caught in her throat, unsure how much she's supposed to know, what she's supposed to say.

She could feel the weight of Lena's gaze on her, like something physical.

"I'm sorry, everyone, I'm sorry, but I…I have to go," her voice wavering slightly as she addressed the board members seated around the conference table.

Jess watched in equal parts relief and trepidation as Lena rose from her chair, her expression a blend of determination and vulnerability.

Jess stays behind for a second. Reassures the board members, still sitting there unmoored in their seats, that she will call their offices to reschedule, that Ms. Luthor is sorry, and that they should understand some things like this just can't be avoided.

They exchanged uncertain glances but, in the end, seem to accept the apology, murmuring their understanding as they gathered their belongings,

Jess catches up with Lena in her office.

Jacket half on, struggling to pull the sleeve up her arm as it tries to push past the barrier of her trembling hands. Jess steps up beside her, slides it up for her, meeting her eyes only briefly before she spins back around to finish shrugging it onto both shoulders.

Jess busied herself with gathering her things. Papers, her laptop, and a few others she didn't even really pay attention to.

"Jess, do you see my phone?" Lena asked, her voice strained.

"Right here." Jess hands her the phone that had been tucked under a stack of reports on her desk.

"Thank you," Lena mumbled, looking at it quickly before sliding it into her pocket, frustrated — scared.

Her eyes dart around the room as if looking for something else.

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" Jess ventured tentatively.

"No, no," Lena sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I just need a second."

Jess nodded, her eyes filled with worry.

"Frank's bringing the car, around," Lena said, more to herself than to her.

"Ms. Luthor," Jess began, taking a deep breath, "I know it doesn't help, but I think the news probably always makes it sound worse, you know."

"Thank you, Jess," Lena replied softly, centering back on her at least for a moment before her phone buzzed in her pocket, and then she was gone.

Jess hesitated. There were things she needed to do.

Meetings to reschedule.

She busied herself with tidying Lena's desk instead. Straightening papers, replacing pens in their holders, and ordering new flowers.

It felt more useful somehow.

----

Ms. Luthor calls to tell her she isn't coming in the following day, tells her she should stay home too.

But Jess has work she can get caught up on, and to be honest, she doesn't mind the distraction.

She does, however, mind Kara Danvers showing up in front of her desk just as she's sitting down with her lunch.

"Shit, shit-shit," Jess gasped, dropping her sandwich and knocking over her little cactus sending dirt scattering all over the R&D reports she had just spent all morning organizing.

"Shit!"

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry Jess, I didn't mean to startle you— um here — here let me help."

Kara reaches toward the mess, tilting the pot back upright as she grabs the little cactus, only to quickly drop it back down, pulling her finger away and shaking out her hand.

"Hey, ouch!"

Jess watched in disbelief as Kara shook her hand, trying to dislodge the tiny needles.

And here's the thing.

It should be funny.

It should be funny that a grown woman doesn't realize that palming a cactus like that wouldn't have this exact effect.

It should be funny that Supergirl is standing in front of her with her finger shoved into her mouth to stop it from bleeding after having been viscously attacked by a desk plant.

But here's the thing.

Jess knows Kara is Supergirl.

But the two have still managed to remain very separate in her mind up until know.

So, while the sight of Supergirl bleeding at all is always disconcerting, it's the sight of Supergirl dressed in her boss' girlfriend's clothes bleeding that feels utterly surreal.

Jess takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the shock and confusion.

"Are you okay?" she asks cautiously, eyeing Kara's bleeding finger.

She nods, pulling her finger out of her mouth to examine it.

"Yeah, just a little prick from your uhh, pointy friend there," she says with a small smile pointing with her other hand at the offending plant.

Jess blinks, takes in Kara more fully. The tired look in her eyes, the dinosaur bandaids peaking out from under her sleeves.

"Did you name it yet?"

Jess shakes her head, caught off guard a second time.

"No…I-uh, hadn't uh —"

Then, a third.

"Kara?"

Lena's voice echoes from inside her office.

"I'm out here…talking to Jess."

Kara calls back, and Jess watches her carefully tuck her hand into her pocket, hiding any evidence of her bleeding finger as Lena steps out to join them.

"Jess, hi, sorry I didn't think you'd be here since I wasn't coming in."

"Yet here you are as well, Ms. Luthor."

"Yes, well, I wanted to get a few reports to work on from home; I didn't mean to slip in without letting you know."

"I left for a minute to get my lunch." She gestures to the half-eaten sandwich resting in the spilled potting soil.

Lena looks at Kara. "What did you do?"

"Wha-why, why do you think I did anything?"

"Because we both know how clumsy you are without --" Lena's voice trailed off as Jess cleared her throat. Still unsure if she was supposed to know what she knew.

"Let's just say accidents happen."

Kara shot Jess a grateful look as she reached out to pick up the cactus again, but Lena grabbed her wrist gently.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Yes."

"No"

"Ugh…Yes and No. I was, but it stopped."

She holds out her finger for Lena to get a closer look.

"I tried picking up Gerald…and I didn't realize how prickly they were."

"Gerald?" Jess asks confused

Kara points to the cactus.

"You said you hadn't named them yet, so I was just trying it out."

Lena pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting a smile.

"Okay, well, let's get you both cleaned up then and then buy Jess a new lunch."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. It's fine, really."

"Jess, please, let's get lunch.

Lena looked between her and Kara who was looking anywhere else now.

"There appear to be some things we both need to tell each other."

She smiled — and nodded.

"Okay, yes, thank you, let me just put a few things away."

She grabs the R&D reports, dusting them off a little.

Comes back just in time to see Lena gingerly picking up the cactus.

Hears Kara's gentle warning.

"Be careful, Gerald can be feisty."

Sees Lena poke her finger into her chest.

"I have enough to worry about with you, Kara, please don't make me add succulents to the list of things that can harm Supergirl."

Knows both of them could probably do with being a little more careful with the rate they find themselves in trouble.

----

read and follow along on Ao3 too

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #sg prompts #Jess making her annual supercorptober apperance #revisiting day 3 #which may happen again #wink wink

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

Can I request you to write Hugo? He’s grumpy and fluffy.

I love writing Hugo! I love werebears so much 🥺🥺🥺

General Plot: Hugo has terrible handwriting so you insist he gets a laptop to make your life easier.

Werebear (Hugo) x female reader

Word Count: 2k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

W: nsfw werebear smut, vaginal and oral sex, outdoor sex, jealousy angst, biting

Hugo had been dead serious about you quitting your job, so at that moment you were thumbing through the customer files of his carpentry shop trying to make heads or tails of his scribbled handwriting.

“Hugo, what the hell is this?!” you yelled and you heard the saw stop from the workshop. A few minutes later he came in smelling like cedar and covered in sawdust.

His warmth hit your back as he sidled up behind you at the big desk in the office you used to do your new job, business manager. That basically meant you did all the paperwork so Hugo could take more commissions. The arrangement had been working well for the past few weeks. He’d doubled the amount of orders he could take since you could handle the phone and organize shipping.

“I can’t read a lick of this,” you grumbled at your werebear mate, “do we need to send you back to Elementary school? This is chicken scratch!”

He grumbled behind you, leaning down over your shoulder.

“No it’s not,” he snarled, “I don’t need to go back to school! You need to get glasses or something! It says very clearly….uh…”

You gave him a look as he squinted his eyes trying to make out his own handwriting.

“Well it doesn’t matter what it says,” he growled, “I’ve got a mind like a steel trap. I remember exactly what they wanted…it was…a dinner table…I think…or maybe an end table?”

You crossed your arms at him.

“I know you already said 'no' but we need to get a laptop or a tablet so you can type in the orders,” you chided, “I can’t call every one of these people and ask them to remind me what they wanted!”

An hour and a half and two fussy fights later, you were standing around an electronics store with Hugo as he perused the ipads and tablet laptops they had for sale.

“Can I help you?!” a perky blonde worker chirped appearing from nowhere.

You jumped and clutched your chest, it was like she’d been hiding or something. She was unnecessarily pretty, tall with big boobs and that perfect hourglass figure that had to be surgery. The store issue polo she was wearing was hanging on for dear life, lifting up at her flat belly to show a tantalizing strip of skin and bursting at her large breasts. You couldn’t help but feel slightly incensed when Hugo glanced down at her nametag.

“Yeah…uh...Cherise…we’re looking for a tablet or a laptop or something, my business manager is complaining about my handwriting and insisting I get one,” he grumbled, still pissed off he had to be there.

You glared up at him at being referred to as his “business manager” not his mate and glared even harder when Cherise grabbed him by the elbow, giving him a big, warm smile, and led him to the tablets.

They spoke companionably as she showed him the models. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he quickly picked one and let her ring him up, all while you stood there fuming.

On the way back to the car, you’d talked yourself from self-righteous jealous rage down to heartbreaking insecure despair. Did Hugo not love you anymore? He’d gotten on just fine with the girl at the store, but with you he was sour and grumpy. He still hadn’t even said anything when you got into his truck and you were on the brink of tears.

Suddenly he looked down at you, after his own annoyance had abated and he was happy to be on his way back to his workshop again, realizing you were being very quiet. You should have been overjoyed he got the thing you wanted.

“(Y/N)?” he said frowning, “what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to cry. We got the thing…”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” you sobbed, collapsing into tears.

Hugo’s eyes got wide. He had no idea what he’d done, but he knew he’d fucked up. You rarely ever cried. He never saw tears unless he was fucking you hard enough that you couldn’t hold them back. These were not those kind of tears.

“What?!” he gasped, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but also on you, “what do you mean? Of course I love you honey cake!”

You shook your head, sniveling.

“You’re so mean to meeee!” you sobbed, “I’m your business manager!”

You hissed the words like they were poison.

“But…that’s your job…” he murmured and realized that was the wrong answer when you sobbed even louder.

He pulled off of the road, turning the truck off so he could focus completely on you.

“Honey cake,” he cooed, trying to get you to stop crying, “what’s this about? What did I do? Tell me what I did and I’ll fix it.”

You sniffed.

“You called me your business manager,” you mumbled through your falling tears.

He had no idea what your job title had to do with this.

“Do you want a promotion?” he asked, “you can be president if you want!”

“No!” you snapped, crossing your arms.

The self-righteous jealous rage had returned.

“I want to be your mate!” you snarled, “not some…side chick! I’m not some…some random girl who follows you around all the time! I’m certainly not your employee!”

He was so confused.

“You are my mate,” he said carefully and waited to see if that was right.

You sniffed and nodded.

“Then why didn’t you say that to the girl at the store?” you hissed, “you were totally nice to her! Do you want a mate like her?! With perfect boobs?! I’m pretty sure they weren’t even real! To Cherise I was just your business manager! ”

Again, the words came out like they could kill, but this time all in a hurried, angry rush. Hugo looked at you for a moment and a smile grew on his face.

“Oh my god, (Y/N), you’ve got to be kidding me,” he laughed, opening up the door to his truck and getting out.

You were triply pissed he was laughing at you and ready to tear his head off, when he pulled you out of your side of the truck and threw you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you cried, beating on his furry back, “put me down!”

He smacked your butt with his heavy palm.

“No,” he said, “I’m going to teach my jealous little mate a lesson.”

“I am not jealous!” you screeched and he just chuckled.

When he’d gotten you far enough into the forest that you were out of sight, he pulled you to his front and set you down on the ground, then got on one knee in front of you, so you were closer to eye level.

You crossed your arms and looked away to pout, but he pulled your face back to him.

“Look at me (Y/N),” he said, “I don’t want anyone else but you…I was being petty when I called you my business manager and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way you interpreted it, I wouldn’t have even said it if I thought you’d take it like that. Whatever I did to make you think I don’t want you, I’d take it back if I could.”

You sniffled, starting to feel silly and he pulled you towards him to give you a big warm bear hug, that pretty much always fixed everything, caging you in with his knee.

“But…” he purred, his hot tongue finding the spot just behind your ear, “I can’t let you get away with thinking those sorts of thoughts…Your boobs are exquisite and the fact that you disrespected them by comparing them to other, inferior breasts is offensive…”

Before you could say anything he was tearing yet another outfit to shreds to get at your bare skin.

“Hugo!” you shouted, trying to stop him, but he was much too big and focused to be deterred, simply pushing his tongue into your mouth to shut you up, while he picked you up and backed you into the tree behind you.

When he’d gotten you where he wanted you, he went straight for your now breasts, mouthing them both like they were a treat. You would have struggled with him if he hadn’t started licking your nipple with his pebbled tongue, making your pussy leak. A big warm hand cupped the other, kneading it and you keened, your head dropping back against the rough tree behind you.

You moaned while he worked your tits over with his tongue, moving from one to the other until they were hard, sensitive points. Occasionally his sharp teeth would graze the delicate skin making you hiccup a bit. Your head was thrashing as your hair caught on the bark of the tree.

“These are so fucking perfect,” he murmured into them, “I can’t believe you…”

He didn’t finish his thought, returning to licking and sucking you.

“Pleaaase,” you groaned to Hugo, you were raw from being sad and you needed him.

“Say you’re sorry…” he demanded, denying you.

Just enough anger was still floating around in your head for that to catch your attention.

“Me?!” you cried incensed.

He swirled his tongue around your nipple and you groaned without meaning to, your eyelashes fluttering.

“You insulted your breasts,” he pouted, “I won't give it to you until you apologize.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you squeaked, eagerly agreeing to his terms.

“Say your breasts are perfect,” he said, nibbling one.

“M-my breasts a-are p-perfect…” you got out, your voice husky with need.

“And Hugo can touch them whenever he wants,” he added.

“Hugo!” you growled, slapping his back impatiently.

He chuckled and tossed you up a bit so your knees were hooked around his shoulders and he could get to your pussy with his tongue, before letting your back brace against the tree to keep you steady.

Juices from your already soaked pussy were dripping down his chin as he fucked you with his tongue. The thick appendage thrust in and out of you, making you cry out loud. He took his time, tasting you, before he started to lap at your clit and you came before he even got a chance to put his fingers inside of you.

You heard his zipper before he dropped you down again and you felt his broad head breaching you. He pushed his hand behind your back to protect the bare skin from the rough tree, before slamming into you.

With one heavy thrust, he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“This is all for you, honey cake, no one else,” he grunted, pulling back out and pounding into you again.

In response his name just tumbled out of your mouth again and again as his pace quickened. He fucked you like he was trying to prove a point, because he was. You were his and his alone and it bothered him that it even crossed your mind that he would want someone else, though it was cute that you were jealous. He’d already forgotten what the shop girl even looked like let alone her name, his whole focus was and would always be on you.

You screamed, feeling his muscles tense as he forced himself not to maul you with his sharp claws as they prickled your back. He was slamming into you just hard enough that he didn’t bruise you. Fucking you took so much focus, but he loved it.

He adored the way your hot walls tightened around his cock when he hit the right spot and the sound of your voice in his ear as you screamed his name. Your fingers were digging into his thick fur, not strong enough to hurt him in the least, but he savored the slight sting of your passion.

“Touch yourself for me honey cake,” he groaned into your mouth and your hand obediently snaked down to your clit to finger it in the way you liked, since his were busy holding you up.

“Cum all over me, I wanna watch it…” he couldn’t help but grunt, as he felt your cunt squeeze him as you brought yourself closer and closer to completion. He loved seeing you like this, your head thrown back in passion, totally focused on pleasure. Your mouth dropped open and your brow drew slightly as your pussy flooded around his cock with your orgasm.

“Hugo!” you screamed, your head tipping forward against him and he kissed it while he pounded through your peak.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled in approval, pulling you off of the tree and yanking you up and down on his cock like a fleshlight, immediately throwing you into another, more lingering orgasm as he emptied himself inside of you and buried his teeth in your shoulder, revisiting your mating bite since apparently you'd forgotten it. The pleasure-pain combination made your eyes cross and you wailed.

“Mmmmm,” you keened, sated and happy, when he finally slid you off of him and cradled you in his big furry arms a few minutes later, licking the fresh wound.

“Have you been sufficiently punished, my jealous little mate?” he asked as he straightened his pants and walked through the woods back to his truck.

“I wasn’t jealous,” you pouted.

He grinned.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, letting you get away with it just this once.

#werebear #werebear x human #werebear x reader #x reader #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster smut #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere x reader #soft yandere #monster x reader #size difference

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avenging-fandoms · 4 months

Note

OKAY NAHHHH NOW U GOTTA WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THAT FRIENDS TO LOVERS BUT ITS TOO LATE TROPE

**i forgot who this was originally requested for so i’m gonna pick pedrito<3

Idk i kinda hate this

**fem pronouns

“I can’t believe you’re getting married.” Yn sighed with her arms crossed, admiring Pedro as he adjusts his tie with a bright smile. “I always thought we would have to use our pact.” Yn half jokes. Pedro turns aroud with knitted eyebrows.

“What pact?” He questions and Yn’s heart breaks a little.

“The pack we made when we were 16, if we didn’t getting married by 50 we’d marry each other.” She reminds him and he snaps, nodding.

“I totally forgot about that. Well we probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” Pedro chuckles and sits to re-tie his shoes, Yn fidgeting with her bridesmaid dress nervously.

“How would we know if we never tried?”

She tried to be quiet but saw Pedro stop tying his shoes in her peripheral as she looks at her hands.

“Dove..” Pedro sighs and she sits next to him, holding his arm and looking at him through tears while he rubbed his eyebrows with his eye closed.

“Pedro, I fell in love with you years ago, and when I went to tell you you told me about Heather, so I didn’t tell you. But now I’m telling you right before you marry her.” Yn realizes what she’s doing.

“Right before I marry her!” Pedro exclaims, standing up quickly and Yn jumps. “Why not telling me in the beginning when it’s easier to end and I loved you back?” Pedro yelled.

Yn inhaled sharply and stared Pedro down, tears falling. “You loved me?” Yn couldn’t raise her voice higher than a soft whisper, and Pedro laughed in her face.

“Yes, Yn, I did. Before I fell in love with my soon-to-be-wife.” Pedro sighed and groaned loudly as he ran his hands down his face, looking at Yn who stood slowly, unable to make eye contact.

“Good luck with your marriage, Pedro. I wish you nothing but the best.” Yn nods and opens the door. Pedro’s eyes soften and widen, quickly heading to the door and trying to get her to stay. Yn didn’t respond to anything he said and quietly took herself away from his grip and racing to her car.

As she quickly drove away Yn couldn’t helped but sob. She couldn’t blame Pedro for how he felt but she was still upset, her heart was tightening with every breath and it was getting harder to breathe.

Yn couldn’t have stayed - she was a bridesmaid. To stand next to the woman the man you love is marrying sounds like an absolute nightmare, so she finds a few hours away where no one could find her. With the alcohol for the after party and her night bag, Yn bought a room for the weekend.

She turns off her phone and turns on the TV to find something random and cracking open the bottle of Tito’s.

Every sip she thought of Pedro and Heather. How they were exchanging vows, their first kiss. Once Yn turned her back on she was going to delete every app of social media she had so she sees nothing from the wedding.

Yn locks the door all the ways she can and grabs her laptop, her vodka and her pajamas as she heads to the bathroom. Yn closes the door and starts the bath, getting it hot before taking off her makeup and dress.

She angrily threw the dress in the trash with a sob, taking a drink of her vodka and submerging herself in the hot water, putting music on her computer. Her hand draped over the edge of the bathtub with the vodka bottle loose in her grip, eyes closed and lip syncing to the music before it stops.

She was getting a FaceTime call. From Pedro.

Yn took a big sip and answers, groaning as it burns going down.

“Dove, what the hell?!” Pedro was in a quiet room and Yn took a breath.

“What’s up, how’s the wedding?” Yn slurred terribly. She didn’t realize how drunk she was and Pedro was worried as Yn barely drinks.

“Yn, where are you?” Pedro asking angrily to which Yn shrugged.

“A guy’s house, Jackson. I called him sad and now I’m naked in his tub.” Yn giggles as she lies but Pedro just thinks she’s drunk giggling.

“He didn’t try anything did he?” Pedro’s tone of voice was low and his eyes were dark, and it sobered Yn up a bit.

“What do you care, married boy? You don’t love me anymore. Bye.” Yn hung up and put her laptop on Do Not Disturb so no more calls came through and she could enjoy her back.

She set her alcohol down, dunking herself under the water for a few minutes before coming back up, gasping as she wipes her face and runs her hands over her hair. Yn brings her knees to her chest, resting her cheek on her knee bone, staring at the drain as she thought.

She thought of Pedro, of Heather, of Jackson, of everything she could think of. Eventually the water got cold and Yn sobered up a bit. Yn stood up slowly and wobbled a bit while wrapping the towel around herself. She brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas before climbing into bed.

Yn finally turns on her phone and sees a few texts from Pedro, friends, and a bunch from Jackson talking about how Pedro showed up looking for her and threatened him. Yn sighed and texted him back, telling him she was very sorry and she’ll take him to dinner to explain; he agreed.

Yn took a few deep breaths before calling Pedro who answers in 3 rings.

“Where the hell are you?!” He scolds.

“You showed up to Jackson’s house? Pedro, I’m sorry if what I said messed with you, but you got married. Stop worrying who or where I am. Worry about you wife.”

“You did mess with me!” Pedro’s throat burns as he tries not to shout too loud for others to hear, his eyes glossy as he swallows. “Why did you do that?” Pedro asks as his lip softly trembles and Yn sighs, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she looks at the ceiling while tears well.

“I.. I don’t know, Pedro. It was selfish. I’m sorry. You’re a good man, a married man now. Please.. worry about your wife.” Yn’s voice broke.

“It should’ve been you, huh?” Pedro asks, sniffling.

“It’s too late to try.” Yn answers.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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potatothots · 1 year

Text

This Coffee is Gonna be Good

02.26.2023

Genre: Comedy

Rating: Teen, for some minor language and a tiny bit of angst themed

Pairings: bucky x reader, nat x reader (platonic)

Warnings: it's waaay to cute for it to have come from my brain. No cheating, no nothing like that. Just fluff and a stupid lie. Also, the game "Among Us." If you don't know that game then what are you even doing? It's so much fun. Go play and piss people off. ;)

Summary: Bucky is a liar. You're tired of keeping up with it.

Bucky knows technology*. You know this, he knows this. Why does no one else know?

The question burns in your head as you stomp down the hallway to your room. It makes you mad how he's fooled everyone. It's even worse when you're forced to run an errand during work hours to give him a message. It doesn't matter if you work in the same building you live in - he should have the common decency to at least admit to having fundamental knowledge so people stop using you as his messenger.

You're his girlfriend, not a carrier pigeon!

You slam open your door. You're greeted by the sight of Bucky laughing his tight little ass off. His personal laptop in his lap, the best/worst game ever made called "Among Us" open on the screen. He has the audacity to look sheepish when he glances over at you.

"Hey, doll. Off work early?"

You look from him to the coffee table and see his dumb, prehistoric flip phone laying there.

"Explain to me how no one realizes you can use technology perfectly fine?" You snap at him as you close the door harder than needed.

He raises an eyebrow in question before looking down at the offending items.

"I just, you know - "

You cut him off before he could continue with his stupid reasoning. "Don't start with the shit, James Buchanan Barnes. I know what you do. I both saw and heard you agree with Steve when he said modern technology is so confusing."

He shoots in a quick "But it is!"

"You play Among Us! On your own laptop! You begged me to get for you under my own name but with all your stupid customizations. You can't bullshit a bullshitter, James Buchanan Barnes."

He opens his mouth again, but you point a finger at him. "No. There is no excuse. You have a laptop, a pc, a fucking smartphone, a smart car, and yet you have the audacity, the nerve, to complain texting is too hard for you?"

"My thumbs are too big and my arm -"

"No excuses! You have a stylus! The screen can pick up your fingers thanks to help from Suri! Who, by the way, you've also fooled. Ayo seems to be the only person, besides me, who knows your tech obsession.

"Like, how did you fool Tony? The stuff is mostly his tech! And Natasha? She sent me on this little errand because she's tired of garbled texts and you never messaging or calling her back."

His mouth opens and closes, then he shrugs. Bucky lets out a sigh through his nose. "I just hate the idea of people knowing everything. I hate social media. I only go on it to see you guys."

He pauses so he can close his laptop and set it on the coffee table.

"I love you so much. The thought of Hydra, or something else, fucking us over again gives me panic attacks. You know this, babe. You know why I ask for everything to be made a certain way.

"I mean, I can barely eat comfortably at new places or change my room around. I need security, even if that means using the flip phone you don't even know how to text from."

You glared at him as he smirked at that truth. Those phones sucked. The last time you used one was…decades ago. Your job was current technology, not archaic bricks.

"Fine. But, you need to get a hold of Nat."

He nodded. "I will."

You looked him up and down, then turned to leave.

"Don't I get a hug?"

"No. I'm working. You owe me a coffee for this."

You open the door. Natasha is leaning against the wall. She gives you her signature sly smile. You wink.

"I'll buy you two coffees for a hug. Three for a kiss? Look, I got the app up, let me know what you want…" Bucky's voice trails away when he walks out of his room after you. "Oh, shit."

"Barnes." Natasha crosses her arms, glaring at him.

"I expect a coffee on my desk in an hour. You know what I like." You smirk at your boyfriend as you speak. "It's in the app you love to use."

He looks over a highly angry Nat's shoulder at you. It reminds you of a lost puppy. You wave to him before you turn and leave, your steps a little lighter now as you hear your friend chew out the former Winter Soldier.

You can't wait for that coffee.

*I am under the belief that he knows how to use technology of nearly all types. Fight me. *

WHAT DOES GOOGLE SAY, BUCKET BARNIES BOI?? HUH?

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff

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alloftheimagines · 2 years

Text

david budd | the break-in

masterlist | ko-fi

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+

reader struggles with sexual harassment in the workplace, reader is assaulted in a home invasion, violence, strong language and use of the words "bitch" and "slut", david coming to reader's rescue and taking care of you

prompt: I love bodyguard sm! How about David Budd & “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.

Your apartment door is open. You know it wasn’t when you went to work this morning, but now the shadows pour into the hallway, the lock hanging off splintered wood. Somebody has broken in.

Fear turns you cold, and you scan the grey-walled corridor. It's quiet save for a baby crying somewhere upstairs and the blare of a television drifting through one of the many closed doors. You glance at the door behind you, where you know David Budd lives. A police sergeant. If you were smart, you’d knock on his door before entering your own flat, but you don’t want to bother a man who always seems to be wrapped up in work or his kids. It’s the last thing he needs. It's probably nothing, anyway. Break-ins happen every day in London.

Slowly, you take out your keys and separate them between your fingers, just in case. In the other hand, you get your phone out, ready. And then you nudge the door open with your foot.

Nothing looks touched inside, everything as you left it. Somehow, that makes it worse. It isn’t just a break-in, or else the laptop on the kitchen counter wouldn’t still be there. So what else would they want?

The question is answered by a pair of rough, bruising hands yanking you away from the light switch. You try to scream, but they cover your mouth, squeezing you against a flat, hard body. Something stabs into your hip. You look down and find a knife winking at you, pressing into your waistband. Tears slip down your cheeks as you try to struggle, but in your panic, you’ve dropped the keys and there’s no way out of their grip.

“Don’t move,” the intruder whispers in your ear. “Don’t scream or I promise, it won’t end well.”

You recognise the gravelly voice. John. A co-worker — ex-co-worker. He’d been harassing you in the office. Finding excuses to touch you, watching you too closely, making inappropriate comments. So you went to HR and they fired him yesterday.

Only, this morning, you found him loitering in the car park outside the office. You’d hoped he was just there to pick up his things, but…

He’s here for you. He shouldn’t even know where you live. He’s been watching you. Might have even followed you home before. A shiver crawls down your spine.

“What do you want?” you ask, voice trembling.

“What do I want?” He scoffs, throwing you to the floor. You whimper as he leans over you, pressing the knife to your neck this time. He looks… wrong. Tired. Bloodshot eyes. Shaking hands. Stubble where he usually kept clean-shaven. “I want my fucking job back, you bitch. What did you tell them?”

“The truth,” you whisper, though you know honesty isn’t a good idea. “I told them the truth.”

“You had them fire me.”

“They made the decision. I would have been happy just to have you work on another floor.”

“Why? Because I looked at you? Maybe you shouldn’t dress like such a slut.” He presses harder, making you wince. “You were begging for it. You wanted me.”

You shake your head. “No. No, I didn’t, John. Please, get off me. Go home. Nobody has to know about this as long as you leave me alone.”

“Or what? What are you going to do?” He snarls, eyes glittering wildly. And you see the fire there. The anger. The need to hurt. You feel sick, frozen in fear. It doesn’t matter what you say next, you know. He’s here for a reason. To punish you.

“Don’t,” you beg. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“You’re wrong.” He moves quickly, but your reflexes are quicker. You knee him in the groin, twisting in an effort to crawl away while he yells out in pain — but you’re not quick enough, and he’s there in an instant, dragging you back by the hair. You scream out, and he stifles it with his hand again so it echoes in the silence.

“I’m going to make you pay,” he promises, the cold metal digging into your collarbone now. “I swear to god —”

The door swings open before he can finish. In the moonlight, you make out a broad figure. He launches himself at John in two strides, dragging him up by the collar and pinning him roughly against the wall. It isn’t until he speaks, Scottish accent making his voice like gravel, that you realise who it is. David. “PS David Budd. I am ordering you to drop your weapon.”

A sob falls from you as the knife drops to the carpet. David slams John into the wall again, pinning his wrists.

“You’re under arrest for assault.” Anger ripples through David as he reads John his rights. You stumble up, feeling as though you’re moving through quicksand. The kitchen counter is your only support.

David half-turns to you as he keeps John in his grip. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No… No,” you whisper weakly. You wouldn’t notice even if you were hurt. You’re too numb. Too shocked. To grateful that David got here when he did.

“I have officers on their way. Called them as soon as I heard you scream. Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

“I think so.” You swallow thickly, shaking when you hear the sirens.

“Do you know this man?” asks David.

“He was a co-worker.”

“She had me fucking fired,” John groused, but David silenced him, crushing him closer to the wall. You’d never seen him like this. So focused, so… furious. Like he wanted to do more than just arrest John. In the hallway, he always had a smile for you. He’d bring your parcels to your door if you had deliveries on the same day. Always asked you how you were, how work was. You don’t know this David.

David looks at you in question now, and you nod. “He was harassing me at work. I took it to HR.”

“If you were smart, you would have left it there, mate,” David hissed through clenched teeth. “We aren't nearly as nice as HR.”

The sound of footsteps rattles through the building, and then the on-duty officers are there. They cuff John and escort him under David’s orders. You can only stand and watch as he explains everything he knows, hearing talks of interviews and the station. You can only breathe when John is finally gone and it’s just the two of you.

“Is it alright if I turn a light on?”

You nod absently, crossing your arms over your chest. He chooses the floor lamp by the door, the one you’d been attempting to switch on when John had grabbed you.

“Are you sure you’re alright, love?” he repeats. His eyes search you, hands hovering awkwardly as though he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you. You can only tremble, tipping your head in your attempt to convince him you are.

“We need a statement from you down at the station. Do you think you can do that for me?” His voice has none of the rough fury it had a few moments ago. Now, it’s soft, gentle, concerned, and it’s enough to make you want to sob, thank him, seek comfort in him. But you don’t.

“It can wait until tomorrow morning if you need a bit of time…”

“No. Now is okay.”

“Okay. I can take you. How’s that?” He extends his hand carefully as though expecting you to cower. But you never cowered for John, and you won’t now. Least of all with a man who’s only ever made you feel safe. It isn’t easy living in the centre of London, but knowing a sergeant lives across the hall has provided you with a sense of security you wouldn’t have had otherwise.

You take his hand now and let him lead you out. You look blankly at your door, the broken lock. “We’ll have it sorted tomorrow. Can I call anyone for you?”

Your stomach drops at the realisation that, no, there’s no one to call. Your family lives up north and you couldn’t bear to worry them. Your friends are all from work, and though supportive, you don’t want to tell them the story tonight. “No. There isn’t anyone.”

“Okay. You’re welcome to stay with me tonight. I have a pull-out couch.”

His kindness almost makes you want to break, but you force a smile instead. “Thank you, David.”

You drive to the station in silence. David guides you into an interview room to take your statement himself. You tell him the story shakily, and his eyebrows furrow with the same fear and pain you’ve felt for weeks. When you’re done and the recording is stopped, he reaches a hand across the table. You take it. “You did really good. He’ll get what he deserves. I promise.”

You don’t know what to say, so you only purse your lips and hope it's true.

“Ready to go home?” David asks.

The answer, of course, is yes.

***

David can’t stop watching you as he waits for the kettle to boil. You sit on his couch, makeup smeared as you stare out of the window into the night. When he notices you shiver, he grabs a zip-up hoodie from his pile of clean laundry and drapes it around your shoulders after offering you your tea. “Don’t want you getting cold. If you want, I can nip across the hall and grab some of your things.”

“I can go…” But your bottom lip wobbles, and he knows that soon, it’ll hit you. It always take a while for the shock to wear off for victims of assault. You’ve been holding up well for hours, chin set in determination, but it’s quiet now, and you look so small in his flat. He just wishes he’d known. Wishes he’d heard the lock being broken or seen the door open when he got home. He’d been exhausted after a long shift. Barely aware of his surroundings until he’d heard you scream. Dread had sharpened his world again, and when he’d walked in to find you at knifepoint, that bastard’s hand knotted in your hair… he’d wanted to kill him.

“You drink your tea,” he insists softly. “I can go. Just tell me where to look. I won’t go rooting. Promise.”

“In my bedroom. There are pyjamas in the second drawer of my dresser.”

“I’ll be back in a second.” He squeezes your hand before crossing the hall and grabbing your things, nausea churning in his gut as he looks at the ruined lock again. His hands ball into fists at the memory of you on the floor. If he hadn’t heard you scream…

He leaves the apartment before he can contemplate the end of that sentence, setting your pyjamas down on the coffee table and taking the armchair across from you. You chew your bottom lip, warming your hands around your mug of tea and staring at the string of the teabag.

“You don’t have to be so strong now, love,” he says. “It’s just you and me. If you want to talk about it…”

It’s all it takes for your chin to wobble. “I just felt so helpless. I thought… I didn’t know what he was going to do to me.”

David sighs, resting his elbows on his parted thighs and wishing he could do more, say more, be more. Wishing he could chase all your fears away. He shifts slowly towards you, waiting for you to protest, but you don’t. In fact, when he sits on the sofa beside you, you lean towards him as though welcoming him, tucking your hair behind your ear in that way he’s grown to love. He doesn’t know what it is about you; his days are just brighter if he catches you in the hallway or hears you singing in the shower through the paper-thin walls. And it helps that you’re beautiful and kind and funny. Helps that you always make him feel warm and, for once, at peace.

“You’re safe now.”

You close your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. He brushes them away tenderly, and you bow your head as more come. “Thank you for being there.”

“Of course. I’m…” He steels himself before his voice can crack with the sincerity it holds. “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again, Y/N. I’m here, okay?”

You do something he hadn’t expected then. You nestle your face into his chest. His breaths turn ragged with the proximity as he slowly wraps his arms around you, stroking your hair. “You’re okay now, love.” He says it again and again, reminding himself as well as you. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this rattled, this invested. A long time since he’s felt anything at all.

He clings onto it for as long as you let him.

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sprnklersplashes · 6 months

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poly!crows, flufftober day 8: rainy day (ao3)

When October comes to Ketterdam, she announces her presence with smoky grey skies and buckets upon buckets of rain. It’s quite an abrupt announcement too; one minute, Nina gets up and leaves her laptop to go make a cup of tea. Two minutes later, she returns with tea, a generous handful of biscuits and sleets of rain pelting the window. She doesn’t take her eyes off it as she sits back down. First comes disbelief, then comes Kaz’s voice in her head reminding her that she’s in Kerch now and the weather is about as reliable as anything else.

She remembers her partners are all out, and she sighs. Then she cheks the weather app and finds the rain is due to carry on all evening, and she sighs again, harder this time.

After firing a quick message to the group chat, she tries to return to her work emails, though they hold her attention even less than they did before. Her phone lights up, then fades, then lights again, coming alive as the Crows give their various reactions.

wolf boy (but not in a furry way): oh wow! thank djel I have the car :p

wolf boy (but not in a furry way): who changed my nickname again?

Llewellyn: couldn’t have been me!

Llewellyn: who still uses emoticons?

Matthias Helvar changed his nickname to Only Sane Man

wylan van fuck: matthias is never beating the furry allegations

wylan van fuck: but I do second the oh wow!

wylan van fuck: @ matthias since i’m ur favourite ur still picking me up from work right???

Only Sane Man: we don’t have favourites, wy. but yes I will still pick you up.

wylan van fuck: yay!

Llewellyn: gay

Only Sane Man: driving cars is gay now?

Wraith: so does that make jes straight?

Llewellyn: I’M BEING HATE CRIMED?

Llewellyn: BY MY PARTNER?

Llewellyn: IN THE QUEER POLY GROUP CHAT?

Llewellyn: WITH OUR OTHER PARTNERS?

wylan van fuck: how in the fuck did we get here?

Only Sane Man: put two kurge in the swear jar when we get home.

nina beana: well given the weather, mayhaps we use the swear jar money for pizza tonight??? to warm us up????

nina beana: wylan’s treat, apparently.

wylan van fuck: shit yea the weather

Only Sane Man: four kruge.

Llewellyn: I love pizza!

Llewellyn: especially when its paid by wylan’s swearing

Llewellyn: @ wylan, say more cuss words so we have more pizza money

wylan van fuck: *send a voice message* 2:30

Wraith: this would go so hard at an open mic night.

Nina snorts into her tea as she replays Wylan’s message. In her mind’s eye, she can see the others’ reactions, Jesper dancing to it, Inej laughing, Matthias’ silent mortification and prayers to Djel. She presses herself into the couch and carries on with her emails, the rain drumming steadily and relentlessly against the windows.

Twenty minutes later, her phone buzzes again, and this time she finds a picture of a completely drenched Kaz, looking at the camera and managing to be both supremely pissed off and completely unaffected.

kazzlus dazzlus: *sent a picture*

kazzlus dazzlus: its raining.

She spits her tea out at that.

Inej is the first one home, her workplace less than twenty minutes on the bus. Nina opens the door to find her sopping wet on the porch, white coat turned brown and her neatly-styled hair now frizzy and tatted and curling at the bottom. She practically yanks the girl in through the door.

“You okay, love?” Inej’s hands are like ice beneath hers, as is her cheek when she pulls her into an embrace.

“Other than the typhoon outside, I’m good,” she replies, gently returning Nina’s squeeze. She lets out a gasp then, immediately dropping her bag and pulling her sodden coat off her. As Nina shuts the door, Inej pulls the tie from her hair and shakes it out. “Remind me again why I don’t work from home?”

“Because-and I quote- you’d never get anything done with the rest of us running around.”

“Ah, that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. She plants a kiss on Nina’s cheek before darting to the stairs, her movements as nimble as if back on the high wire. “I’m hitting the shower. When are we doing pizza?”

“Not until the rest of them get home,” she replies. Inej nods and carries on two-at-a-time up the stairs. Nina lets her eyes linger on her small frame before turning back towards the living room, a wry grin curling at the corners of her lips.

“Save me a cookie?” Inej’s voice calls from upstairs. Nina chuckles warmly, blows a kiss towards the stairs, and the jar is moved from the cupboard to the coffee table.

Really, Inej didn’t have to ask.

The rest trickle in steadily over the next few hours. Jesper alerts them with a knock at the window, their eyes so wide they take up half their face. They all but barrel into Nina when she opens the door, other hand reaching out to grab the expectant Inej. At first they’re delighted, basking in their partners ever-persistent affection. And then the seconds turn into minutes, and realisation dawns on the pair of them with incredibly precision.

“You’re using our body heat aren’t you?” Inej asks.

“Yep!” The two rolls their eyes, exasperated and slightly shivering against Jesper’s cold hands, and it takes both of them to shove him off.

“Hot shower, “ Inej tells them with a poke to the chest. “And then maybe Nina will share her cookie stash.”

“Uh, they have to earn the cookie stash!”

Jesper comes down ten minutes later, clean, warm, grinning like a madman, and wraps Nina in a tight embrace that sweeps her off the ground. Apparently, it was enough for a cookie.

It’s around half an hour later when the blue blur of Matthias’ car appears at the window, obcusred by the heavy fog covering the glass. Minutes later, a flash of red hair that can only be Wylan emerges and sprints to the door, followed by Matthias rushing up the path. Jesper is at the door and opening it before Wylan can even get his key in the lock, wrapping the two of them in a tight hug that lasts until Nina appears at his shoulder and reminds him gently that cold air travels through open doors.

The smiles don’t fade though. Matthias pecks her cheek before half-jogging up the stairs, making a show of trying to beat Wylan to the shower but moving suspiciously slowly for a guy who runs marathons for fun. The three of them, Nina, Inej and Jesper, can hear Wylan’s laughter reverberate through the bathroom door, answered by a groan that sounds anything but frustrated. Nina grins, initially to herself, but like a flame it jumps to Inej and then to Jesper and they’re chuckling, softly, under their breaths.

Then Matthias is on the stairs, shaking his wet hair over them. Inej delicately steps aside and pulls Jesper into her spot, letting him take the full force of Matthias’s storm. Their reaction is suitably dramatic.

When Kaz finally turns his key in the lock, his coat is so soaked it’s basically a second skin and his dark hair clings to his face like seaweed against a rock. The edges of his coat drip, drip, drip along the floor as he makes his way down the hall, alerting them to his presence with the rap of his cane against the door and a raised eyebrow. The four of them (Matthias now in the shower) have crammed into their small kitchen; Inej and Wylan are sitting on the counter leaning over Nina’s shoulders, while Jesper is atop the table with his feet pushing one of their mismatched chairs outwards. The rumble of the dryer can be felt through the brick and the counter sways like the little boats that dock on the harbour in the summer.

“Brekker, settle a fight,” Nina asks. “We’re ordering pizza. We’re getting a veggie for Inej and Matthias and a plain one for Wy. Do we get a Hawaiian as a third?”

“If you do, that delivery guy will have to step over my corpse to get into this house,” he replies, gasping slightly as he pulls of his wet coat. He hangs it on the back of the door, the black tweet slipping in amongst the other coats of their house.

“Chicken and sweetcorn it is then,” Nina announces. Kaz runs a gloved hand through his hair before stopping beside Jesper, his arms folded over his chest. “Still bad out there?”

“No, Zenik, I just fancied a dip in the canal.” Inej throws Kaz a tea towel and he catches it expertly with one hand. “What sides are we getting?”

“Cheesy bread,” Nina replies. “And wedges. Anything else?”

“Springing for two sides?”

“The swear jar money covered it,” she replies. “Didn’t you listen to Wylan’s voice note?”

“No, on account of the fact I never open that chat unless I get to say something.” His voice is mumbled, half-hidden by the yellow towel over his face. It’s a lie, of course. Kaz Brekker can deny anything to anyone (and he has, many times) but screenshots don’t lie. And Nina’s phone is almost backed up with the amount that show ‘seen by Kaz’ beneath several of their messages. Not to mention the times she’s caught him half-smiling at his phone just seconds after someone put something in it, and all the things he’d only know if he checked it regularly. His ‘Dirtyhands knows all’ act can only go so far.

Still, she doesn’t say anything, and all of them let Kaz’s rickety wall stay where it is for now. In any case, his gloved hand is resting over Jesper’s on his shoulder as the five of them talked in hushed, soft tones about their work days and the storm and what movie to watch tonight.

“May I make a suggestion?” Jesper asks innocently.

“We’re not watching the Bee Movie again,” comes Inej’s reply, her voice soft and her eyes hard and unflinching when Jesper pouts.

“But it’s the greatest movie ever made!” he protests. “It’s a masterpiece. It’s a witty deconstruction of the capitalist system. It challenges us to think about the importance of those in society we brush off. It tackles our preconceived notions of relationships-”

“By that he means, she fucks the bee,” Wylan replies.

“She loved the bee! She and the bee had a consensual adult relationship!”

“Is Jesper debating the merits of the Bee Movie again?” Matthias appears in the doorway, hair tousled, clad in sweatpants and one of his old hoodies. The dark blue brings out his eyes. “Because I am not willing to sit through it for a third time.”

“Insert joke about furries here,” Kaz mutters as Matthias ducks through the doorway. Matthias rolls his eyes, a retort ready on his lips. But then he looks around the room, surveys each of his partners in turn, and Nina can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“Jesper is that my hoodie?” he turns to Inej, Wylan and Nina, all three of whom stand silently, repressing giggles and burrowing into the impossibly soft fabric enveloping them. “Are these all my hoodies?”

“In our defense,” Jesper begins. Then, he pulls his hands into the sleeves and lets the end flop around, a grin crackling across his face. “They’re comfy.”

“Very comfy,” adds Inej.

“Collosally comfy,” Nina continues.

“Well, shit, I was just going to say ‘really very comfy’,” Wylan adds. A chorus of “swear jar” comes to his reply, and to that he just scrunches up his face and laughs. Even Matthias’ indignance at the hoodie theft seems forgotten as he drags a hand over his face, eyes landing on semi-worridely Kaz.

“Go get out of those wet clothes, Brekker,” he says. “And help yourself to any of my jumpers sicne they’re all free anyway.”

“You’re good, Helvar,” Kaz says before leaving. His gait is slightly stiff with the rain, and Nina doesn’t have to say anything before Jesper flips on the kettle. They’re all too aware of how the cold can affect Kaz’s leg. Wylan will have a hot water bottle down in approximately sixty seconds.

“Matti,” Jesper says as he leans against the table. “Really, you should take the sweater theft as a compliment to your skills. You make them so soft.”

“There’s this magical thing,” he replies. “It’s called fabric softener. You should use it sometime.”

“There’s also the fact that you’re the biggest one here. Ergo, your jumpers fit all of us,” Wylan says. He holds up his arms, completely lost in the cavernous sleeves. “I mean, I offer my collection of jumpers with sheep on them all the time, but they never fit anyone so no-one takes them.”

“Sure,” comes Kaz’s voice from the stairs, slow and stretched out. “That’s the reason.”

Wylan’s reaction comes in three parts. First, he blinks like a deer in headlights, trying to search for Kaz’s meaning. Then realisation dawns on him, slowly, and they all watch as his mouth falls open in the kind of offence usually reserved for when family members are insulted. And for the third part, he looks down in abject horror, and the rest of them alternate by assuring them his sheep jumpers are lovely and also trying not to wet themselves from laughing so hard.

Saints, Nina has never felt so lucky.

In a crushing five-to-one defeat, they don’t watch the Bee Movie. Jesper makes a show of how disappointed he is, insisting that none of them have the same intellectual taste in film that he does. Instead, they go for Labryinth, followed by The Princess Bride and maybe Sharkboy and Lavagirl if there’s time. And for all Jesper’s whining, he is the first to start dramatically quoting each film as they set up. As Nina pulls the warmed blankets from the dryer, she can hear Matthias reluctantly playing the Buttercup to Jesper’s Westley and Kaz chiming in with a quote here and there to keep the scenes moving. She rolls her eyes and sighs “boys”, but the smile on her face is unshakeable.

The smile blossoms when Inej rises her her tiptoes and kisses the back of her head.

Arm in arm, they return to the living room with arms full of blankets just as Jesper is answering the door. As they enter, they’re greeted witha cry of “piggy back time” and the visual of Wylan rocket-launching himself onto Matthias’ back. Their partner gasps, stumbles and just barely rights himself before he bellows out a laugh and adjusts Wylan’s hold on him. Kaz sits on the couch, Wylan’s hot water bottle tucked against his bad leg and funnily enough, Matthias’s sweater over his pyjamas. Between gloved hands, Nina spies the familiar gleam of Kaz’s phone, and underneath Wylan’s giggling she hears the unmistakeable click of the camera. He pulls it back as soon as Jesper returns, face obscured by the mountain of food boxes he carries.

“Gentle reminder that the paper plates on the coffee table are to be used,” Kaz announces. “Because I am not cleaning tomato sauce out off the cushions again”. That comes with a pointed look at Nina, and she just shrugs before dumping the blankets in the middle of the room and announcing that its a free-for-all. Her preferred one, a white fluffy number Kaz got her last year, is already securely wrapped around her shoulders, and so she’s happy and comfy and seated for the night. Ergo, her partners may fight to the death if they please.

Secure in her blanket cocoon, she plops down on the sofa. Matthias descends on the pile, Wylan on his back, who announces their presence by sticking his fists in the air and yelling “blankets!” like his life depends on it. Laughter buzzes in the air as they all watch Matthias lowerself down, Inej punctuating it with a growing ‘ooooooooh’ and a ‘heck yea’ when he makes it without dropping him. Wylan grabs one for himself and one for Matthias as well, pressing the fabric into his free hand before returning his hands to Matthias shoulders and declaring “Onwards my noble Fjerdan!”.

“Here,” Matthias sighs. “Go be Jesper’s problem. I’ve had enough of you.” His words are annoyed but his tone is anything but, and Wylan lands in a giggly heap on Jesper’s lap.

And that’s it. Jesper straightens up against the couch, content for a moment, but then Kaz taps his shoulder and he scoots into the spot between Kaz’s legs. Wylan’s is curled on his side, his head in Jesper’s lap with Matthias next to him, rubbing circles into his back. With a slice of pizza in one hand, Nina runs her hand through Matthias’ hair, enjoying watching how his cheeks grow when he smiles. She presses her finger to one of his dimples and scratches against his cheek, and something warm bubbles in her chest.

Somehow, Inej managed to sneak in and situate herself on the couch without anything noticing. Her hand is intertwined with Kaz’s, and he dips his head and whispers something to make her laugh. When Nina looks, she sees Kaz’s free hand petting Jesper’s hair.

And it’s this. It’s just the six of them, and messy combinations of limbs and pizza and soft words and bad jokes. It carries them through, just like it always has.

The rain keeps pelting the window, unending, determined to be let in. But inside its them, and the movies on the TV, and the soft, fuzzy peace that glows openly between them all. And for Nina, and for all of them, it’s enough. It will always be enough.

#six of crows #six of crows ff #poly!crows #nina zenik #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #helnik #kanej #wesper #wylan x matthias #kazper

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borahaerhy · 2 years

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Gone (5) - jjk

Summary: You and your childhood best friend, Jungkook, have grown apart over the years, although you still have the same overbearing fun-loving bestie, Aria, that really wants her best friends talking again, something neither of you really want to be apart of until Aria goes missing, and the only other person that could help you find her is the one you've spent years avoiding.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Best friends to enemies (ish?) to lovers, High School AU, eventual smut, slow burn

This one is a lot please read Warnings before reading: Theft, JK and Y/n are on the run, a Motel 6, cursing, More breaking and entering, Jungkook has a gun and uses it, someone gets shot multiple times (not a main character), someone gets unalived (shit happens man), Aria's parents are drug addicts.

Word Count: 4.6K

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Note: I have been told this may not be the most fun to read at night, so viewer discretion advised :)

“He’s going to burn my fucking house down,” you spoke as soon as you got into Jungkook’s car. His car was already started and in drive, so as soon as you closed the door he started driving out of there.

“No, he’s not, because we’re getting the fuck out of here,” you pulled the wire from under your shirt and shoved it into his glove compartment hastily, unsure of where else to put it as your brain was scrambled.

“What does that mean?” You asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Y/n, that guy just threatened to kidnap you or worse. While we’re still here, going to school, doing normal things, he can watch us; make sure we don’t find her. I know you’re already freaking out, but we have to ditch everything and leave if we want to have any chance of finding her, or keeping you safe, okay?” You tried to keep your breathing under control as he spoke, but that’s really hard to do when all the words he says sound so crazy.

But he’s right.

You can’t get help Aria if we can’t do anything. You can’t act normally and pretend you don’t care that she’s gone, not now that you know this much. You basically have a taped confession, but who’s all in on it? Why? Is there anyone you can trust? There's no way to know, you could go to the state police and give it to them, and they could turn it and tell Bennett you had it. You can’t use your phones, they track everywhere you go, probably his laptop too.

“Well, I for one, have no money, so I don’t think we’re going to get very far.”

“I know the code to the safe in my dad's study, my parents won't be home from work for the next couple of hours,” you laughed a lot harder than you probably should’ve. He looked over at you with confusion smeared all over his face.

“I’m sorry, but to try to avoid getting arrested for crimes we didn’t commit, we’re going to steal from your family and worry both of our families extensively while we try to find our friend that could very well be dead at this point. If I don’t laugh at that, I’m going to start hyperventilating,” Jungkook reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly.

“We’re going to be okay. It’s you and me against the world, remember?” He spoke in a calm voice, trying to reassure you. You let out a small chuckle.

“No offense, I liked you a lot more the first time I said that,” He let out a light laugh, moving his hand back to the wheel.

“I know, but we’re kind of the only ones we have right now,” you nodded, knowing he was right. He pulled into the driveway of his house and jumped out of the car, running up to the front door. You got out and immediately went over to your own car unlocking and was about to slide in it. “What are you doing?” You stopped, standing straight up.

“I’m going home, I need to get clothes and things –”

“No, Y/n, we don’t have time,” He shook his head.

“I’m not leaving without my goddamn toothbrush. Pick me up when you get your shit, I’ll be waiting,” you got in your car before he could protest any further and sped out of the neighborhood. You made it back to your house on the other side of town in record time.

You got out of your car and ran into your house, grabbing a duffle bag and shoving a bunch of your things in it: toiletries, clothes, a stuffed animal. The necessities.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” you abruptly turned around, seeing your mother standing in your doorway. You put the bag down and ran up to hug her tightly. She hugged back, still not sure what’s going on.

“Mom, listen to me very carefully. Wait as long as you can before you report me missing –”

“Missing?”

“Don’t trust the cops or anything they tell you. Don’t let them know you don’t trust them. I’m going to get Aria back, okay? Don’t trust anyone, please, I’ll be okay I promise; Jungkook promises,” you let go of her and make your way back to your bag, shoving a few more things in it before you zipped it up and slung it over your shoulder.

“Y/n, what’s going on?” You turned to face your mother, hugging her tightly again.

“I just need you to trust me, okay? I’m getting Aria and I’m coming back; everything will be okay,” you pulled your phone out of your back pocket, headphones still attached to it, and handed it to your mother. You heard Jungkook honk the horn of his car, both you and your mom looked at the front of the house, before you looked back at each other. “I was never here, and you’ve been so upset, you didn’t notice I was gone, okay?” She nodded, tears filling her eyes as she pulled you in for one last hug.

“I love you, Y/n,”

“I love you too mom. I have to go,” You pulled away, kissing her on the cheek before you walked to the front door, pushed it open and walked out. You threw your bag in the backseat of his car before you sat down in the passenger's seat, clicking your seatbelt.

“You told her?” You looked up to see your mom standing on the porch, looking at you. You nodded.

“I had to warn her not to trust the police, plus, she caught me packing.” He waved at your mom, who waved back as he pulled out of the parking space.

“Here,” he hands you a Walkman. A Walkman? “I tapped the recording from the police station onto it, then deleted it and wiped my laptop. That’s the proof we need to put him away,” you nodded, looking down at it.

“Guess we’re going to have to find another way to research, huh?” He nodded, sucking his teeth.

“Public libraries it is.”

You drove all day and all night, only stopping once to get gas and food, and you were now in a very nice Motel 6, seeing as you both needed to get some sleep. Jungkook closed the blinds as you flopped down onto the bed furthest from the window, your duffle bag sitting on the ground beside it.

“I’m gonna grab a shower, you should get some sleep,” Jungkook said, one of the first things either of you had said in hours. You rolled over and gave a thumbs up.

“I’m already halfway there,” You mumbled, grabbing one of the pillows and hugging it. You heard him chuckle slightly before the bathroom door closed and the water cut on. You sat up and pulled your bag up onto the bed, unzipping it. You pulled out some sweatpants and a hoodie, and decided to change into them, wanting to be more comfortable. You shoved your dirty clothes back into the bag and grabbed your stuffed bunny. You pulled the blankets back on the bed, happy to not see bugs scurrying, and climbed in, falling asleep almost instantaneously.

“I didn’t know you still needed Bob to sleep.” Jungkook says, still half asleep as you hand him a coffee and muffin that you had gotten from the gas station across the street.

“I don’t need him; he just gets lonely,” you said, shoving your stuffed rabbit named after the iconic artist, Bob Ross, back into your bag. You sat on your bed and sipped your coffee as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“No breakfast?” he asked, taking a huge bite of his muffin.

“I already ate mine on the way back over here,” He nodded and continued eating. “You know, it’s very hard to find things when you don’t have technology or a map,” He nods.

“Yeah, I’m not even sure where we are right now,” He took a long sip of his coffee, before finishing off his food.

“Good thing the gas station had maps, there’s a library a few blocks from here,” He smiled and gave you a thumbs up before standing and grabbing his own bag and rifling through it.

“I’ll get dressed and then we’ll head out.”

Minutes later you were at the library, each on a computer seated beside one another as you decided to see if you’d been reported missing as he found your new best friend Officer Bennett. All you had to do was look up Jungkook’s name and he was blasted all over the internet as missing, along with both you and Aria. Bennett had put the missing person’s case of Aria through, and now you were wanted for basically everything. Your eyes widened at the screen as you realized you had very little head start, and the police would most likely already be looking for Jungkook’s car.

“Officer Cole Bennett, age 36, been a police officer in the area for 15 years, but before he went into the academy and “turned his life around”, he’d was arrested several times on various drug charges along with gang activity,” Jungkook kept his voice low as he read from the page, eyes never leaving as you could tell he was starting to look for something else. “I’m going to see if I can find his address, you find anything?” You sighed softly as you turned your attention back onto your screen, a long list of charges under your name.

“Well, we’re all missing,” Jungkook stopped what he was doing an looked over at your screen. “Well, you and Aria are missing, I’m on the run, and you are either a fugitive or an accomplice, they haven’t decided yet,” you scooted your chair over slightly as Jungkook moved over to get a better look at your screen. “I guess your parents noticed your absence pretty fast, huh?” Jungkook glanced at you for a second before turning his gaze back to the screen, feeling like he should apologize for his parent’s worrying for their child.

“Looks like we’re famous, going to have to get better at hiding,” you nod as you look around you, suddenly afraid that everyone here will know who you are if they see you.

“You know, I did always want to be famous,” you joked, still looking around to make sure you were undetected. This was not going to be good for your anxiety.

“You get anxious while getting your picture taken,” Jungkook scoffed, trying to lighten the mood. You heard him click away on his own keyboard a few more times, your eyes trained on your own charges. What the fuck did I say to get terroristic threats as a charge?

“I found his addresses,” Jungkook was sure to emphasize the fact that he had multiple residences, “He has three, none of which you could afford on a police officer's salary alone, but this guy somehow has three. They’re all in this state, at least, but very spread out and all in more secluded places. I’ll write them down and then we should probably get out of here; might want to invest in a GPS if we’re going to have any hope of getting there.”

“Kookie, what are you doing over here by yourself for?” You asked, still out of breath from running across the entire playground. He looked up at you from the swing he was perched upon, before looking back down at the ground. You moved to sit in the swing next to him, kicking off slightly to give yourself a nice breeze.

“I dunno, it just kind of feels like I’m being replaced,” you grabbed ahold of the chain to his swing and tried to rotate it, but instead you just rotated yourself. You being startled by your own abrupt movement made him look at you and laugh.

“What do you mean replaced?” You ask as you both calm your giggles. He looks over at Aria, who was hanging upside down on the monkey bars, waving excitedly at you.

“I just feel like you’ve been playing with Aria more than you’ve been playing with me since she moved here. I just miss you,” you looked over at Aria again, before returning your gaze to your depressed friend.

“I’m sorry you feel left out, but I just wanted to get to know her better. But you’re my best friend, Kookie, she’s not going to replace you,” He looked up at you again, his eyes wide.

“Promise?” he asked. You smiled, holding out your pinky. He wrapped his around it, and then you connected your thumbs. The most profound and unbreakable promise in the universe: the pinky promise.

“Promise. It’s you and me against the world, okay?” He smiled and nodded. “Besides, we’re going to be in middle school soon, why would I spend my last few weeks of having recess away from my best friend?” You kicked off the swing again, this time actually swinging. He smiled, and did the same, trying to get higher than you. A few seconds later you were both going as high as the swings would allow.

“Wait up, guys!” Aria ran over and sat on the swing on the other side of Jungkook, quickly trying to get as high as Jungkook and you had gotten.

Jungkook had convinced you it was a good idea to go steak out this guys house to see if he was there, if there was any sign of Aria. You made our way back to the motel, and decided to change into darker and more comfortable clothes before you drove several hours to sit outside someone's house and see if anyone was there, before maybe breaking in. How you were convinced that this was a good idea, you weren’t sure yourself.

After changing, you packed up the rest of your things into your bag, both of you agreeing you shouldn’t stay anywhere longer than 24 hours. You zipped up your bag and threw it over your shoulder, turning to see Jungkook pull a gun out of his bag. We’re going to die—

“Where did you get a gun?” You asked, knowing there’s no way he’s ever even held one before right now, let alone fired one.

“The safe, thought it might be useful, considering someone did threaten to kill you yesterday,” He shrugged, lifting the back of his shirt before he slid the barrel of it into the waist band of his jeans.

“I mean fair, but what do you even know about gun safety? What if you shoot yourself trying scare other people? What if it explodes —” You started walking toward him as he himself was walking toward the door.

“There’s a reason I didn’t tell you and waited until I thought you were turned to take it out,” He turned to face you, making you stop walking abruptly or you’d run into him. You stayed standing, looking at each other for a moment. How have I not realized how tall he’s gotten? “I won't shoot myself, or you, I promise,” He held out his pinky, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to accept. You sighed, linking your pinky with his and brought your thumbs together.

“C’mon, we should get going, we have a long drive.”

The drive was just that. Long and uneventful.

You pulled up to the house about an hour ago, staying seated in the car just waiting to see if it looked like anyone was home. By now it was dark out, so if anyone was, there’d be lights on and you’d be able to see shadows; 2 things you hadn’t noticed. There was, however, a car sitting in the long driveway, so someone probably was there, you just hadn’t been able to see them.

You sat mostly in silence, watching the house with the car turned off with the occasional observation or sigh cutting through. There’s probably a part of the house you can’t see from this side of the street, or maybe even a basement. Or he might just be asleep.

“Do you think we should just go in? I don’t think anyone’s home,” he asked, looking over at you. You shook your head.

“There’s a car, so someone’s probably here, just in a part of the house we can’t see,” He huffed, slouching down into his seat. He remained silent for a second.

“Wanna brainstorm while we wait?” he asked, his voice sounding defeated as he slouched down slightly in his seat. You looked over at him and shrugged, wanting to hear whatever he had come up with because to be frank, you didn’t come up with much. “So a cop kidnaps our friend, sets her house on fire, chases us through the woods, sets the place on fire he took her from, and then threatens to kill you before he reports us all missing and leaves you a wanted fugitive. If it has something to do with her dad, which is the most likely case scenario, why? Is he trying to blackmail her dad?”

You listened to his words carefully, trying to make sense of why he would take her, but blackmail seems like the only reason that made any sense. “If I had to guess, Bennett’s a crooked cop. Maybe he likes to sell drugs on the side to help pay for his numerous houses. Maybe he’s a hitman, I don’t know, but there’s no way he can afford to live in one house that looks like that,” You pointed out the window at the house the two of you were currently stalking before continuing.

“Without doing something shady on the side. I mean, you know all the fucked up shit her parent’s used to get into, maybe he was their dealer, got in debt,” You shrugged, thinking of all the possibilities. Growing up with Aria, one thing was always consistent about her parents and that was their inconsistency. A slew of unmedicated mental disorders partnered with addictive personalities and just from what you remember, they were hardly ever sober.

“That’s definitely a possibility, still don’t get why that would make him want to burn the house down, unless he had something to do with—” you slapped Jungkook’s chest, cutting him off as you pointed toward the house, the car that was in the driveway slowly pulling out of it. He looked over as you both slouched down in your seats, not wanting to be seen if he happened to turn this way. Thankfully, he didn’t. Jungkook looked back over to you with wide eyes.

“Now?" You looked at him then back at the house, biting your lip as you think.

“We should really wait 5 minutes -”

“I’m going now,” He opens the door and steps out, and you do the same, cursing under your breath in the process. You walk across the street, walking along the side until you make it to the back of the house. You walk up to the back door and he reaches out to try to open it but you stop him. You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out 2 pairs of rubber gloves you had brought from home. He took a pair and put them on and tried opening the door. It was locked. Big whoop.

You pulled a bobby pin out of your hair and kneeled in front of the door, Jungkook standing directly behind you as he kept his eye out for anyone that could be watching. In less than a minute, you were able to unlock the door. You stood up and opened it, about to walk in when Jungkook grabbed your arm and shook his head. You stepped back as he pulled the gun from his waistband and walked in.

You walked in behind him and carefully closed the door behind you. You entered through the kitchen, which was connected to a large living room that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Between the kitchen and the living room on the wall to the right there was a relatively short hallway, and next the that, a staircase.

“You go up, I’ll go back,” you whispered, looking back the hall, about to start walking.

“Where’s your weapon?” You looked at him, rolled your eyes, and pulled a pocket knife out of your pocket. He didn’t seem impressed, but you lightly shoved him toward the stairs. He continued up them, admitting defeat. You stepped back into the hallway; the first door is on your right. You take a deep breath before you quickly open the door, waving your knife around as you look for someone hiding. It was a bathroom, and a rather empty one at that.

The shower curtain was clear, but you checked behind it just to make sure. Aside from that, there was nowhere else someone would be able to hide in here. You stepped back out of the room before opening another door on the opposite side of the hall. You opened the door as frantically as the first, but again, there didn’t seem to be anyone behind door number two.

It was a bedroom, very simplistic with a bed, simple sheets, a nightstand, a lamp, and a dresser. There was also a closet, where there were some shirts hanging and a couple pairs of dress shoes haphazardly placed on the floor. The dresser was empty except for 2 drawers, one of them having a few pairs of boxers and socks, and the other gym shorts.

You left that room and went to the last room at the end of the hall. This door, for some reason, gave you the creeps. You took another deep breath and opened the door. It was a staircase leading to the basement.

Oh, fuck this.

You swallowed harshly and balled your hands into very tight fists. You slowly began walking down the staircase, the little moonlight that was illuminating the rest of the house was now gone. You stopped halfway down the steps and reached into your pocket where the keys to your car were sitting perfectly silent in the center. You pulled them out and found the mini flashlight that was on it, and switched it on, before you continued down the stairs.

As you made it to the bottom, you moved the flashlight around, getting a once over of everything, before you decided to turn right. This basement was huge and was packed with what you would call junk. You could tell he used this for storage, and there were about five rooms off this one giant room. You walked up to the first door and placed your hand on the knob and was about to turn it when you felt someone wrap their arms around your body, one hand going over your mouth and the other pinning your arms down.

You screamed out as loud as you could, the knife and light both abandoned on the floor where you had dropped them. You were resisting as hard as you could, but the man was now carrying you, much stronger and taller than you were. You heard footsteps rushing down the stairs, but you couldn’t see anything. You could only hope it was Jungkook and that the flashlight was pointed enough in your direction so that he could see what was going on. A few unbearably long seconds go by before something happens.

A gunshot rang throughout the basement, the sound amplified several times over as it bounced off every surface in the room. Your body flopped into the concrete ground harder than you thought humanly possible, your ribs aching as you felt a warm liquid begin to surround you. A second later Jungkook grabbed ahold of your arm and pulled you off the ground.

“Are you okay? Did I hit you? Did he?” He grabbed your face and moved it from side to side as If he was trying to look for anything that indicated pain, but there was no way he could’ve seen you right now. You shook your head though, knowing he could feel it.

“No, I don’t think so, I think this is his blood,” you said as you grabbed your damp hoodie. As soon as he concluded that you were not severely injured, he grabbed the flashlight off the ground and pointed it at the guy, as well as the gun in his other hand. The man was still alive, hands pressed into his abdomen where there was blood pooling.

“Where’s Aria?” Jungkook practically yelled, the man having virtually no reaction. He crouched down and put the gun very visibly in his face and cocked it. “I asked you a question, I recommend you answer it.”

“Whose Aria? I have no idea who that is! I’m just here to make sure no one gets too nosey, that’s all!” He was groaning in pain as he yelled, his words hard to understand as he was breathlessly trying to get them out.

“Who hired you?” Jungkook was downright terrifying right now, his hands steady and his eyes focused. He’s so out of it, you genuinely think he might kill him.

“Some guy, said his name was Cole, but that's all I know, I swear,” you took a few steps forward very slowly, kneeling down slightly as you neared them.

“Jungkook,” you spoke softly, hand moving to gently rest on his shoulder. He didn’t move. “Jungkookie, he doesn’t know anything. He needs a hospital,”

“He’s cleaning up after him, he probably knows something,”

“He already said he doesn’t know where she is—”

“He could’ve killed you, Y/n, I'm not just going to help him,”

“I’m not the one with a bullet wound, Jungkook, and he’s not the one that put it there. He’s going to bleed out soon if we don’t get him out of here, now,” he paused for a moment before he sighed, uncocking the gun and putting it back in the waist band of his jeans. As soon as he did, you rushed over to the other side of the man and helped Jungkook get him to his feet.

You ushered him up the stairs and made your way into the hallway. As you started walking down the hallway, someone else stood at the end of it looking you dead in the eye. Cole Bennett.

“C’mon, Y/n, I thought we had an agreement,” you saw him reach around his back and you pushed the two men into the still open door of the bedroom before slamming it shut and locking it. The wounded man was on the bed as Jungkook shoved the dresser in front of the door. You grabbed the flashlight Jungkook still had in his hand and moved it so you were holding the key like a weapon and smashed the key through the window, shattering it.

“Jump, I’ll get him,” Jungkook said, holding the dresser back against the violently shaking door as hard as he could. You hesitated for only a second before you nodded and jumped through the window, gashing your leg in the process. You could tell the second he stopped holding the door as there was a loud thud followed by a gunshot. Before you even had the chance to worry, Jungkook had flung himself through the window, landing perfectly as he grabbed your hand and started sprinting.

“Wait, what about-”

“He shot him, we have to run, now!” He yelled back, running as fast as he could. You looked back for a second, before hearing another gunshot ring out. You turned and put all your energy into running, Jungkook and you eventually hitting the tree line as the gunshots stopped.

Note: Proof ATE

Taglist: @koobsessed @mwitsmejk @roxy1205 @yoon2jk @pamzn @drmrastraea @bbl32 @softforpj @lpgirl2324 @astoriasx @mooncuddler

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honeybadgercomeback · 5 months

Note

Hello! Wishing you all the best! I was the anon that sent in the ask back on May 3 about the Lance/Popstar and Nando. I know and understand that you’re busy and have other commitments (I absolutely love Danny and Em, that’s how I found you to submit the og request) but I was just wondering if you had any idea about a time frame? I know I sent in an ask about 3ish months ago asking the same question (sorry to be a bother) but I’m not sure if tumblr ate it or if I just missed a reply. If you don’t mind just letting me know how you’re feeling about it, and no hard feelings if this is now something that you don’t have the time or interest in. Thanks again!

I’ve had this in my drafts for like a week trying to work out how to answer it and I’m just going to be super blunt.

I have around 1900 words written in a draft on my laptop. I really like them! But the problem with this kind of request is that the only way I can write it is switching POVs and messing around that way, and I can’t make it work.

I’ve tried different plots, different moments, different everything. And it all comes down to the way I write x reader. I don’t use y/n, I don’t use anything like that. I try not to use she and her in most cases because wherever possible I write it as gender neutral. But for this I need at least two segments to be Lance’s POV and that’s where it falls apart.

I’m really sorry. I love this idea and I’ve tried so hard to make it work - harder than I have on any fic for any fandom. But it won’t come. I’ve thrown the first 800-ish words that I’ve edited under the cut so you can have them. Everything after this is a bit of a mess and I’m not comfortable with it being public, but this I am.

“You’ve been invited to the Formula One race in Miami on Sunday, do you want to go? It’s Aston Martin so those rumours might keep going but it’s been good publicity.” You stopped checking your lipstick at your publicists words, turning your head slowly. The rumours had been hilarious at the start, but were turning terrible and cruel. You were apparently dating Fernando Alonso, which just made you laugh. He was cute but older than you and not your type. You were, however, a racing fan and the chance to actually attend a race was too good to pass up.

“Yeah, I do. It’ll be fun. Is it just Sunday?”

“They offered the full weekend if you wanted, but if your schedule’s too full you can just do the race.”

“The full weekend. Tell them I don’t need a chaperone or someone to show me around, just let me know what I can and can’t do.” A rare weekend off from shows meant that you should probably spend it at home resting after the Met Gala but this would be a lot more fun.

Friday morning you wore an Aston Martin hat that they’d sent across along with your paddock pass. You were excited for the practices, but even more to get to see the cars in real life. 2016 had been a long time ago when you played the Austin Grand Prix.

People tended to ignore you as you went in which was a relief, security flanking you but staying discrete. A couple of fans recognised you but it was a lot more lowkey than you’d expected. Low-key wasn’t something your life involved anymore, and you actually were able to relax as you wandered in the Miami humidity.

“Are you following me or something?” The voice made you turn and smile, Daniel Ricciardo holding out a hand. You’d half jumped him on the red carpet on Monday to introduce yourself as a fan, something you were mildly embarrassed about now you’d seen the gifs. But he grinned and reached for a hug that you returned.

“What can I say, it’s how you get the boy, right?” You winked and continued. “Aston Martin invited me as a guest. It’s my second time at a race.”

“So you and Nando?”

“Are not a thing. The internet’s the Wild West. Speaking of, I should probably go over and introduce myself.”

“Here, take my number.” He held out his hand for your phone and you gave it over, watching as he tapped in his number for you. “If you’ve a spare hour and I’m not doing media let me know. It’d be nice to chat.”

He turned to the navy Red Bull building while you went to Aston Martin. There was a green shirted crowd at the front, but someone immediately came over to introduce herself.

“Hey, I’m Pamela from Guest Relations. Welcome to the chaos! It’s so nice to meet you. We haven’t publicised you’re here and if you don’t want it to be public we’re completely fine with keeping it private. We just thought you might want to see a race with all the media buzz, that’s all.” You put your guard down around her and gave an actual smile.

“Thanks. I don’t mind little bits or getting caught on camera but I’d rather not have anything huge? I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be, don’t worry. Lance and Fernando are just finished a briefing, do you want to meet them?”

“Please, yeah. It’d be great.”

You were led past the main hospitality and into some offices where four men were sitting chatting. Pamela knocked on the door and introduced you before stepping back slightly for you to enter. An awkward wave was all you could muster but the slight tension was quickly resolved by the bearded man.

“Lawrence Stroll, it’s good to meet you! This is Flavio, Fernando’s manager. And our drivers, Lance and Fernando who I’m sure you’ve been asked enough questions about recently.”

“Just a few. It’s lovely to meet you all.” You shook hands and smiled at them, taking in Lance in particular. You knew he was handsome, but he was better looking in person. His hair was reacting the same way yours did to the Florida humidity to make you smile.

“How’re your wrists doing? Are they fully healed?” You asked Lance, ignoring the slight look of surprise on his face.

“Mostly, yeah. I don’t need bandages or supports anymore but there’s a lot of icing them after driving. Thanks for asking. What about your hand, I saw you hurt it during a show?”

It was your turn to be surprised, showing the healing pink skin on the palm of your hand to him. “Getting there. I didn’t need stitches at least but I’ll end up with a scar I think.”

#lance stroll x reader

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my-soupy-brain · 1 year

Text

Absence Makes the Heart Pound Harder

Description: You're away for a long conference and Ted and you can't stand it. Fluff + smut smut smut

Relationship: Ted Lasso x F reader

Warning: Sexting, arousal, intercourse

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The greeting. Smiling. Hand shaking. Lonely nights in the hotel. A stiff bed, cold blankets. Too quiet. Too dull.

You missed Ted, plain and simple. It aches to gone this long. His cheery voice and that smile that can melt away all your worries — you will never be so glad to be home.

In the hotel room you flip the channels and your phone chimes with a new message.

1 night left, sweetheart. Can’t wait to have you home again. I miss you xoxo

You smile like a schoolgirl. He’s been counting down the days until you get back since the first night he didn’t have you in bed. He used to sleep with a pillow tucked under his right arm. Now he’s replaced it with your waist.

But not this week.

You don’t only miss Ted’s charm, wit, and whole aura…but you miss his body. His warm limbs keeping you wound tight. His masculine but soft frame caging you between his arms and in between your legs. The way his hair falls over his forehead and his eyes go dark when he makes love to you.

Oh…thinking of him now is doing something.

You decide to show him how much you miss him. You unbutton your silk blouse and let your lacy bra peek out. Grabbing your phone you decide to sex kitten yourself up with your heels, hiking your skirt up your thighs, your blouse open and your hair down.

Snap! A couple more angles until you find the right one.

Back home Ted is working on a batch of biscuits when his own phone chimes. He suspects it’s you with a reply but.

Oh. Ohhh. That photo. Your lips. Your hair down in shiny waves. The curve of your thighs and hips in that skirt, and…that open blouse and lace bra.

He braces himself on the counter for a moment, the blood leaving his head and running quickly south behind his zipper.

He sighs. Of course he misses your body too, but now he feels like a man starved.

Your phone chimes again.

Ted: Oh, babydoll…you are a sight for sore eyes. When you get home, we’re not leaving the bed.

You: That a promise, Teddy?

Ted: You betcha. I have to stop my biscuit baking, I can’t even concentrate because I want you so bad.

You: God, baby. I want you too. I can’t wait until you’re between my legs again. You’re so sexy.

Ted: I can’t wait until you're moaning in my ear again.

You sigh, your panties damp at how much you miss being filled up this man. Your core throbs with need.

You: I’m touching myself right now. I can’t help it. You make me so wet.

Ted: I’m jealous of your hand. But you should stop and wait for me.

You: Ooooh, want me to hold on so you can take care of this?

Ted: Yes, I do. And so you can take care of me, too.

You groan, the throbbing between your legs making it hard not to find relief. But you know he’s right. So you stop.

You: OK, hands free coach. Just like your game. I’m gonna make such a mess for you.

Ted has to breathe before he answers. He tilts his head back, willing himself not to plop down in your shared bed and take himself over with your photo still on his screen.

Your sleep comes in fits and starts. You’re so wound up and so anxious to get home you can hardly stand it.

When Ted picks you up from the airport, you damn near break indecency codes. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his tongue is in your mouth, hungry for your touch.

“Let’s get home, baby…” you murmur to his kiss-swollen lips.

In the car he keeps one hand on your thigh, rubbing it higher at each stop light. Your heavy breathing and flushed face make him want to pull over and fuck you on the side of the road. But he manages to pull up to the flat and get you both inside.

No sooner than your laptop bag touches the floor and he’s got you pressed against the door you just entered. His mouth attached to yours, tongues colliding in unison. His large, warm hands that you love so much skate the curves of your body. Per his request, you’re wearing the silk blouse and pencil skirt you wore yesterday.

He hitches your leg under his arm to open you, grinding his firm erection behind his jeans against your center. The friction alone is enough to make you pant in want.

“I missed you so much, darlin’…” he murmurs to your neck, which he’s sucking on and spilling his thoughts. “I’ve wanted to fuck your since you left but after that photo, I almost didn’t make it through practice this morning. Beard had to snap my attention back more than once.”

You sigh, your hands in his hair, now disheveled from its professional quaff into messy tendrils between your fingers. He seldom cursed and only does when he’s really worked up, which you can feel pressed against you.

“Fuck…please…take me,” you plead. With that he moves you both away from the door, never separating from your lips as he guides you down to the bed, a knee between your legs. His hands caress your curves, over the silk and the soft skirt, making him groan in need.

“So sexy seeing you like this,” he drawls between breaths. “So professional, so neat, and about to get real dirty.”

You frantically start to unbutton your blouse but Ted stops you. “Let me. I wanna unwrap you.”

The wetness between your thighs is surely seeping onto the bed and you couldn’t care less.

Ted’s long, masculine fingers work your blouse open, and he slides it from your shoulders gently. The lace bra captures his attention, and his fingertips glide down the intricate patterns over your nipples, making you shudder.

He leans down to kiss you again, passionately, sharing oxygen. Meanwhile he rolls you to your side and unzips your skirt. His palms slide down the back, over the curve of your ass, and he moans against your mouth. Before he can make another move, your palm meets his crotch, adding a firm pressure as you rub.

“I missed you…so fuckin’ much…” Ted pants. He can’t stand it. He’s a taut balloon about to burst.

You wiggle your skirt down to your ankles and Ted sees the matching panties, hardly able to stand it. He leans back to take in your form, hair a mess on the bed, cheeks flushed, lips parted and panting. Your chest heaves with breath, making your breasts rise and fall with the lace on your body.

He returns to you, his hands gently wrapped in your hair, as he leans down to kiss you gently, his eyes connecting with yours. “I love you,” he murmurs. You smile. “I love you, too.”

With that he kisses down your body, from your lips to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, under your ear, down your chest, your stomach, to your thighs and works his way back up. You’re showered in affection from this man. You tangle your fingers over his neck and through his hair, bringing him back to kiss you. “You have too many clothes on, darling,” you giggle into his lips. He looks down, still in his Richmond sweater, long-sleeve shirt, khakis and socks. “Yeah, yeah I really do!” he utters, popping up to remove everything. You watch his shoulders and arms flex as he removes his button-down shirt. When he sits on the edge of the bed to remove his socks and pants, you crawl behind him, arms around his middle, peppering him with kisses. “God you’re gorgeous,” you murmur into his bare shoulder. He smiles and blushes, not used to being called such things. Even though you’ve been together a year, and you’ve doted on him every day since, he still carries doubt about himself on his back.

“My handsome prince,” you follow up. “Perfect in every way.”

He twists in bed to see you, kissing your forehead. Once his pants are on the floor, he crawls back under the covers with you. You fit together like puzzle pieces, your face nuzzled into his neck, his hands over your body. You work your panties down and swing your leg over his hip as you lay on your sides.

Lips meet again, more fiery and needy than before. As you buck against him, you can feel his erection straining in his boxer briefs. His hands grab your fleshy hips and thighs, and he moans into the kiss.

“It feels so good to have you home again,” he whispers under your ear. “To have your body with mine, where it belongs.”

You shudder at that and he holds you closer. He pushes his briefs down and notches himself near your core. “Oh, babydoll…you missed me too, didn’t you?” he teases before he slides in.

You groan at the fullness. A week without each other was torture, you realize. And the sweet release of being with him again is almost more than you can take.

As frantic as you were to tear each other apart, the warmth of the bed and your bodies lulls you both into a passionate, slow rhythm. Your bodies turned toward each other and connected lets you kiss all the sweet nothings he utters off his lips.

“God, I love you, Ted,” you shudder, the angle hitting you just right, his hand holding your waist while he moves in you.

Sweat beads along his slightly graying temples, and you run your hand through his hair, to the nape of his neck and he shivers at the feeling, moaning into your touch. He moves a hand between you to tease your stimulated clit. “I love you, too…” he sighs.

“Fuck…” you pant to his lips, which at this point are just sharing breath and dragging across one another. “That’s it, darlin’. Let me feel you… let me hear you… you feel so good,” he’s urging you on. “Show me how much you missed me.”

That brings you over, your fingernails clutching his back, his neck, while you mumble incoherently and squeal at the release. “That’s my pretty girl…” he smiles, kissing your neck, a hand massaging your breast. He rolls you to your back, one of your thighs in his hand while he drives harder, no space between your bodies.

“God, you make me feel so good, baby…” you sigh to him, his head buried in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his breath hot and heavy on your skin while he moans and grunts at the friction. “I want to feel all of you.”

His right hand holds the back of your head gently, his warm, long fingers threaded through your hair while he leans up to look at you.

“Oh, doll…I’m…ughhh,” he moans, eyes closed. You run your hands along his strong shoulders, up his warm chest and through the hair there. Your hands fall around his face, holding it gently. “Let go, love. I want it,” you coo. His hips push harder, and then rhythm becomes erratic while his body lets go, giving you everything he has. He gently lays his body on top of you, taking weight on his elbows so he can look at you. You both smile, foreheads touching. “I’m so glad to be home,” you whisper with a laugh to your voice. He smiles, brushing hair that’s stuck to your slightly sweaty face over your ear. He leans to kiss you on your temple, sighing against your ear. “I’m so absolutely in love with you,” he replies softly. “I feel like I fell down the lucky tree and landed on a pile of Sour Patch Kids." You laugh with your whole belly, a sound he adores.

He rolls to your side, holding your body against his, your face against that chest you adore. “I want to love you forever…” he sighs, and you smile, holding onto him tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ted. I’m here to love you, for all that you are.”

He smiles now, never feeling more loved. With lazy patterns skating your back under his fingertips, you both drift off to sleep, peacefully dreaming of the future you’ll have together.

#ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fan fic #ooooh i love this man

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bobattef · 1 year

Text

Not again.

It seems like the rain bears down harder on the windows of your trailer than others.

The weather has been terrible this whole week but it seems to be after vengeance of some sort this race weekend.

Typical British weather.

You think to yourself as you try to drown out the noise of the pounding rain on the flat tin roof and instead put it into focusing on the piles of paper work in front of you.

Working as a social media manager for SKY F1 sounded like you were living the life.

Travelling every where the team went for races, Europe, the Americas, Dubai and even out to Australia, plus the long winter break definitely were pros of the job!

“You just sit on your phone all day and get paid for it” is what others have said about your work but they don’t see the cons.

The constant pressure of getting new content out for the fans, in time too!

What was trending online last week is now considered old tat and then there’s the constant displeasing of the drivers and their team principals.

You don’t mean to make them out be the ‘bad guys’ but sometimes words get muddled up or edits in certain places look malicious to others.

You’ve had your fair share of arguments, along side your own team plus those personal assistants of the drivers and even some drivers yourself for videos or images you’ve published.

**knockknockknock**

A quick but urgent sound of tapping raps on your trailer door.

“Oh gods, what now” you mutter to yourself, closing your laptop and trying to sweep up some of the run way pieces of paper you had scattered around your desk.

You open the door to a soaked through-the-bones Carlos Sainz.

“Can I??” He snaps as he gestures to you to move out his way.

“Carlos” you say through gritted teeth and move out the Spaniards way.

He shakes off the excess water from the down pour you had just made him wait in.

Pulling off his Ferrari jacket, he tosses it over the door edge to the bathroom and you watch as a puddle quickly pools at the bottom of it.

You sigh out in annoyance already.

“Oh I’m sorry, you seem to be a bit stressed Cariño? The sarcasm oozing from the Ferrari drivers voice.

“What do you want Sainz? I’m a bit busy!” you sigh out as you lean back on the very desk you just had your head in your hands in defeat over.

“What are you working on? Some more bullshit about me huh? Or are you going to pick on another driver on the grid today?” he almost spits out, he’s that annoyed.

“Ah, you read my piece about you in quali yesterday?” you smirked at him, knowing it’ll piss him off even more.

You and Carlos had history. That was the short version of the story.

The longer version was that although you never officially ‘dated’ you were always ended up in his bed at every hotel or motor home on every race weekend or he was in yours.

He could fuck you like no other man you had ever been with and the noises that used to fall from his lips were ones he said no other girl has ever made him do.

Sometimes the races that didn’t go too well would work in your favour as you knew you were in for a good night if he was mad about something.

The pressure of both your jobs meant to the outside world, you were nothing to each other, even enemies perhaps?

It used to be an act.

You’d walk straight past each other in the paddock, not even a peep from either of you as you sat opposite one another for interviews, but as soon as you clocked off for the night, he’d find you.

Or you’d find him.

Sometimes not even making it out the car park of whatever race you were attending that weekend.

But that act of not giving a toss about the other got a little too real.

You really would be arguing with him more than the other stuff you could have been doing.

Him not happy with certain things that were said by you or members of your team, or you not being happy with how he had portrayed your line of work to other media outlets.

You decided to call it a day before the first race started of this 2023 season.

Cutting it off at the source before the same old ways would continue into this new season just like last years.

He didn’t take it well of course, always telling you you’d have him back but since then he’s perfected his ‘act’ of hating you so well.

“Oh I’m picking on the Redbulls at the moment don’t you worry…” the sarcasm from him was obviously contagious as you now spoke fluently in it.

“Did you see the look on Jos’s face when Max finished 2nd?? you go to laugh, wanting him to join in on the humour but instead you’re met with a shaking of his head.

“Don’t…” he says to you, his voice suddenly sounding a lot softer.

“Don’t what??” you shrug at him.

“Don’t pick on a father and sons rocky relationship for likes on instagram” the venom starting to come back in his voice.

“Yeah, cause that’s all I do. I do shit for likes on Instagram Carlos!” You start to raise your voice.

He’s known your job title for months now, he’s known everything about you for months also and now he wants to make sarky comments about the way you earn your living.

“Is there a reason you’re here tonight?” You say quieter, wanting to calm yourself down “apart from pissing me off?”

But the Ferrari driver doesn’t say a word, instead he closes the distance between you both.

One of his legs fits perfectly in between yours that you had planted to keep you leant on the desk.

Your eyes drop to his lips, suddenly so close to yours and your heart skips a beat when you see his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

Your eyes flutter up to his.

“Carlos…”

Damn, why is your voice so shaky??

“You said…we said, no more, not again..”

You notice his adam apple bob up and down with the deep breath he swallows.

He closes his eyes taking in your words but his body doesn’t listen.

Instead he pushes his knee upwards, it fits perfectly against your mound with the way you’re slouched on the table.

“Carlos…” the sudden pressure there makes you gasp out and one of his hands comes up to grab you at your throat.

“Say the words Cariño…say them and I’ll stop” he whispers to you now searching your eyes for an answer he knows isn’t coming.

You simply shake your head.

There’s no way you can tell him to stop now.

The pressure from his kneecap is making you ache there for him.

Those familiar feelings of butterflies start to grow inside your stomach as you look up at him through your lashes.

The smirk across his face letting you know he’s winning.

“On your knees pretty girl” his lower toned voice vibrates through him as you do what you’re told.

It’s as if your body goes on autopilot, it knows exactly what to as the Spaniard un clips the belt to his race slacks, the sound of the metal clinking open sends signals straight to your core.

You stroke his hardness through his boxers a few times before pulling his cock out, a quick lick of your own lips, you leave your tongue hanging out your open mouth, letting him know you’re ready.

You glance up to him as if you’re waiting for the go ahead.

He’s managed to ball his fist in your hair, holding on as he uses his other hand to pump himself a few times before slapping it on your tongue.

“Take it hermosa…” he breaths out but you lose the sound of the nickname he calls you under a moan that falls from his lips.

You must of been wanting this moment again just as much as he thought you would, as you almost make it to the base of his cock in one Swift movement.

That feeling of the tip of him, hitting the back of your throat as he sucks in yet another breath.

As you hollow your cheeks moving your head up and down, you run your tongue along the side of him, flicking it across that sweet spot of his and then diving back down to the base once again.

“Mierda” he hisses, using the grip he has on your hair to pull you back.

You smirk up to him, knowing he’d never have someone so willing to choke on his cock like you do.

“Mmm” he mimics the smirk you have on across his own face as he runs his thumb over your lips, wiping the drool that has formed there.

“You still…can tell me to stop, mi Angel”

He always had such sweet pet names for you, sweet being the complete opposite of the way he treated you in the bedroom.

You were both so fitting together.

Both enjoyed the same type of sex which is probably why you both got addicted to one another so quickly.

“I’m good” you say to him, readying your lips again.

But instead of him guiding your mouth back on his cock, he pulls you up by your pony tail.

“Aaah” you say out loud as the sharp pain you feel on the roots of your hair catches you off guard.

“You sure Bebe?” Carlos pushes further, double checking you’re on board.

“Yes Carlos…” you go to answer but are cut off by him lightly slapping you round the face.

“Na-uh” he clicks his tongue at your mistake as his hand returns to its place around your throat.

“You know my name…say it” he whispers to you, his breath brushing past your ear sending chills down your spine.

“Yes…papi” Your legs almost buckling at the mention of your old bedroom pet name you had for him.

“Good girl” Carlos breaths back, he enjoyed that name from your lips once again just as much as you heard yours.

“Now turn around…” he tells you but is already guiding you to turn your back on him, the desk you had inside this trailer was at the perfect height to bend you at your waist and the Ferrari driver had no means to let that opportunity pass.

He uses a foot of his to kick yours from underneath you, causing you to spread your legs further. The move making you steady yourself, on your arms.

Placing a hand on your lower back to keep you in place, he runs the other underneath your skirt, grabbing a hold of the waistband of both your tights and your underwear and in one quick pull, he has them down, past your knees and off.

Smiling slightly at the convenience of you already having your shoes off.

He keeps your ass covered by your skirt, although not wasting any time to rub his hands over the flesh underneath it.

Jutting his hips forward, you feel his cock pressing you from behind, searching for a way in.

You push your ass out a little bit, trying to meet with the head of his cock, needing it to bury itself deep inside your aching cunt.

Instead he snakes a hand around the front of you, disappearing up your skirt and resting on your, now slick, cunt.

The feel of his fingers pushing in-between your folds has you drop your head slightly.

You arch your back as his thumb starts to circle on your clit whilst he moves his fingers in and out of you.

So skilful this Ferrari driver of yours.

Your eyes widen at the slip up your mind had made.

He’s not yours anymore.

You quickly tell yourself, a pang of sadness hits you as Carlos senses your demure change slightly.

“Everything ok Mi amor?” he leans forward and starts to kiss down your neck, slowing down on his assault of you with his fingers.

Fuck! Why does he have to call you that!

“Mmm hmm” you breathe, knowing if you were to speak, he’d know there’s something bothering you.

His fingers come up to meet your mouth, you instinctively wrap your tongue around them, tasting yourself on him.

The way your mouth sucks his fingers makes the Spaniard groan as he positions the tip of his cock just before your entrance.

Finally pushing through, you both moan in sync.

Your walls contracting around the stretch of him going deeper inside.

He bottoms out almost instantly, feeling you shift slightly on your feet as you adjust to his size.

The thoughts you had a few moments ago start to disappear by the rolling of his hips.

You expected it to be fast, hard, but not this fast and hard.

He has a grip on you either side of your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there.

Making marks for sure.

Your whole body shakes with the sheer force he is ramming his cock into you.

You cry out.

The edge of the desk is getting the brunt of Carlos’s moves as the tops of your thighs get slammed into it again and again.

“Fuck!” you rasp out as you try to hold on to wood somehow.

“Yes Bebe, that’s it. Feel it. Feel me” The Ferrari driver isn’t making much sense to you right now but you don’t care for you start to see stars.

How does this man know how to fuck you so well??

It would be a lot easier to call off if this part wasn’t so fucking good!

He’s now released his grip on one side of your hips but uses it to land a slap right across one of your ass cheeks.

Not expecting it, you cry out once again but his hand flies up to your face, cupping your mouth.

“Shhh! You want the whole trailer park to know what I’m doing to you in here hmm? How I’m making you fall apart over your own desk?” He warns you.

You can’t speak so choose to shake your head in answer to his question.

He moves the hand that was keeping you quiet round to the back of your neck, pushing you down further on the desk.

Your chest now flushed with the piles of paper work that have strewn themselves everywhere after the disturbance they got with Carlo’s fucking you from behind.

“Mierda! I’m going, I’m going to…” he can’t even finish his sentence as the familiar fuzzy feeling from below starts to stir in your core.

You’re barely doing a thing and he’s the one coming undone first.

The thought of you doing this to him, making him lose all his senses warms you within.

You expect him to come any second now, releasing himself inside you like he has done many a time before but he catches you off guard once again as he pulls out of you.

You’re cunt aching for the loss of him almost immediately.

“Wha? What are you doing?” you don’t mean to sound so annoyed with him but you were chasing your own high too.

The Spaniard twists you round again, this time you face him and he lifts you up effortlessly onto the desk.

You lean back on your arms, pushing your chest out towards him.

He takes a minute, drinking in the sight of you.

Spread for him, your skirt had ridden up, bunched around your waist by his pounding.

Your hair almost fallen out of the high pony tail you had it in and sweat started to form on your forehead, causing a few loose strands of curls to stick to it.

Your chest is heaving, your heart slamming against your rib cage just as hard as your body was slamming against the wooden desk just now.

“What’s up?” You ask him, concerned at the sudden stopping from him.

His eye lids have dropped lower, he’s most definitely drunk on lust right now.

His lips are more pink and swollen from his assault he had on your neck, kissing, sucking, biting.

The Ferrari shirt he had on was pulled up slightly, giving you a sneak peek of his perfect abs he had underneath, the fine lines and curves of his body on show for you.

He had turned his hat backwards, when? you can’t recollect but it’s always been a favourite look of yours.

“I want to see you cariño” he smiles at you as he snakes an arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk.

His cock straining against your entrance almost as if it’s begging him to feel you squeezing around it again.

You notice the tiny bit of pre cum leaking from the tip as it disappears inside you once again.

This time slowly.

He lets out a sigh, like it brings him some sort of relief being there.

Grabbing you by the chin, he tilts your head up towards his gaze.

The smirk he has worn so many times tonight already, flashes across his face once more.

“See mi cielo, what did I tell you?” He lets out a laugh at your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“You’ll have me…again” he says quietly as you feel his cock twitch from inside you.

He pulls it almost all the way out but then slams it back in again, you gasp out his name.

“You going to come for me pretty girl?” he’s not asking you, you notice, he’s telling you.

Moving his hands back down to the space in between you both he begins to rub your clit again.

You buck your hips up towards his hand as he pushes you back down with the snap of his.

The mix of sensations both his hand and his cock are giving you right now makes that familiar coil build up from within.

His movements start to become to sloppy as you know he’s close also.

“Carlos…fuck! Papi!” you hope the Ferrari driver didn’t hear your mistake.

“Yes Bebe…” he moans out. Not being able to hold on for much longer.

“Kiss me…” you ask him, feeling the overspill as you come on his cock, you go to call out his name but instead are met with his lips crashing down on yours.

He kisses you deeply.

You don’t kiss him back straight away as you’re caught in the moment.

Also you try to remember the last time he had kissed you like this.

You return the urgency he has, pushing your tongue through his lips, he welcomes it inside his mouth.

He almost growls out, it’s muffled by your mouth on his, but he comes undone inside you.

Painting your walls with his come.

He doesn’t move his hips at all.

Instead concentrating all his movements on this kiss you’re both sharing.

You pull back, panting as he rests his forehead on yours whilst he catches his breath.

You both don’t say a word to each other.

Instead focusing on your breathing, being in sync almost as you both come down from your highs.

The sound of him doing up his belt and zipper snap you out of that post sex sleepiness you seem to have every time.

He straightens his hat to where it should be and pulls his shirt back down.

You stay still, watching him closely as he gets himself sorted out.

He tilts his head slightly at you, noticing you staring at him.

“Like what you see?” The same cheekiness he always had comes though his voice.

You smile, weakly, your eyes wanting to close.

“Can say the same about you” he tells you as he steps closer towards you.

He brushes away the hair that had fallen in front of your face as he pulls your legs down to stand on the ground once again.

Your skirt dropping to its rightful place.

Carlo’s bends down grabbing something and as he straightens back up again you notice he has your underwear in his hand.

Trying not to roll your eyes at him you go to take them from him but instead he moves away from your grasp.

“I’m keeping these” he simply tells you as you huff out at his statement.

“They’re Ferrari red so…” he tries not to laugh at his own joke but your groaning at his line makes him chuckle.

Kissing you on the forehead, something he always done as you said your goodbyes, he grabs his jacket from the door and swings it over himself.

“You’ll be in Australia right?” he asks you as he turns away from the door.

“Of course” you grin at him.

“Good, so I’ll see you down under?” he laughs again as he practically hears your eyes rolling at his poor joke, closing the door behind himself.

#smut fic #carlos sainz jr #ferrari #over18 #formula 1 #reader #pov

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rhiannswork · 2 years

Text

a. butler novacane (reupload)

warnings: lowercase intended, heavily based off novacane by frank ocean, rockstar!austin (not talked about a lot), yn has beauty and brains (aka a p.star and goes to college to become a dentist.) drug use, slight incorrect way of rolling a joint but oh well, kissing, austin just being a simp and lowk the reader is one too

you sat at your desk, using the light from the blinding lamp post in front of your window. finishing up a thirty-five page essay for school. the professor wasn’t holding back when it came to this assignment, any assignment really. it was one of the biggest essays of the year. the deadline was in a couple of hours. you had a few pages left, it started getting harder coming up with new ways to express your thoughts. you just needed a rest.

you’ve been up since dawn, since then you filmed a video for all the lazy pervs sitting on the internet in the late nights. spending some time at a coffee shop, making a couple of tips. you could’ve been finishing your paper, you would’ve been done by now.

you felt a headache slowly about to ruin your night. out of frustration you rushed the end of your paper and submitted it. you slammed your laptop shut, snatched your phone off the desk, placed your airpods in your ears and grabbed a metal rick and morty lunch box.

you threw on a solid black zip up hoodie and threw the hood over your head. you walked out of your studio apartment and walked to the park not too far from it. you sat on the black bench, crossing your legs and placed the lunch box on your lap.

you opened it and took out a hot pink cannabis grinder, you ripped open the ziplock and took out the herb and grinded it up. you took out a singular rolling paper and a filter, you placed the filter at the end of the paper. you added the ground cannabis inside and rolled up the paper.

you lit it and enjoyed the simplicity from mary jane. your phone buzzed twice, a message from a fling from months ago came upon the phone. it was weird you kept his number, seeing as that you left him. not vise versa.

he had gotten popular over the months, starting a band, touring, the whole thing. you needed to focus on your studies, the groupie lifestyle wasn’t for you. sort of hypocritical seeing as what you do is in the range of that. only thing you won’t get from that is a bachelors degree.

‘i need to speak with you’ you read, your eyes hung low as you could barely read the screen. you replied however with ‘why? what’s going on?’ you don’t even know why you’re giving him the time of day. this was worse than a headache.

‘where are you’ he messaged you back, totally disregarding your response. ‘outside my apartment. now can you tell me what’s happening?’ he left you on read.

your joint had been shortened to where it was no longer able to be at use. you tossed it to the ground and stomped on it a couple of times and walked back to the front of the apartment to go back inside.

you were stumped by the sight of a mid 80’s convertible benz. it beautiful, black and shiny. the lights of the lamp posts and convenience store ‘24/7’ sign hitting just perfectly. you were so effected by the car you didn’t notice somebody sitting inside of it.

“yn” the man inside the car spoke. it was a familiar tone but you couldn’t piece it together. “hm?” you replied, which you shouldn’t have. you stood there squinting your eyes, hoping to get a better visual. the stranger got out of the car, slowly towering over you. “it’s me. aus.” he furrowed his eyebrows at you, trying to make eye contact with you.

“austin? what are you doing here?” stupid question. “i really need to talk to you.” slightly stupid answer. “come inside, it’s cold.” very stupid decision.

you walked up to your apartment with austin following behind you. you unlocked the door and kicked the clothes and books out of the doorway. pushing them to piles of other clothes and books you have yet to attend to.

“as you can see, school has taken a toll.” you nervously chuckled. seeing as you haven’t spoken to austin in months. now he’s in your apartment. “i don’t mind. this is what my hotel rooms look like.” he smiled while sitting on the couch.

“new tat?” you pointed to his chest. he nodded and tugged at the neck of his shirt to show you the full tattoo. exposing a detailed butterfly with hearts for wings. “niceeee.” you sat on the couch beside him and turned your body to him. “—so! what’s going on?” you sighed, finally creating eye contact with him.

he didn’t speak. he took in the sight of you, your lips, your eyes— although they were hung low and had a tint of red. he had missed you so much.

“i got a class at eight in the morning and i would like to get a few hours of sleep.” you smiled apprehensively, growing worry to the amount of time it was taking for him to tell you the reason for his late night visit.

“if i’m being honest. i can’t live without you. i know we were just friends with benefits. i don’t have any means to go on if i can’t wake up knowing you’re mine.” he removed his eyes from yours out of shame. he felt like an absolute idiot, telling you about all the mushy feelings he felt for you.

you on the other hand, when austin told you all about his feelings, it reminded you of how you felt when you first became friends with benefits. now that you’d already repressed those feelings, you don’t know how to respond to that.

“yn please say something.” his voice was smaller than before he came inside. “well… aus…” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself as if you were reading off of notecards.

“i have had my moments, plenty, where i’ve needed you, not sexually… just needed to hear your voice, have you hug me… all of that and you know— i had to push all of those feelings down. i needed to study and the direction you were going i just… can’t follow you.” you let out a sigh of relief as you relaxed your posture. the weight that was placed on you a few minutes ago, was lifted, but then placed on you yet again as you waited there for austin.

“i could’ve helped you know. financially.” “nooo i don’t need your money aus.” you chuckled. “after you left, i didn’t know if i could every feel that happy again. fame, sex, money, getting high. it couldn’t suffice to the feelings i had for you, yn. i’d give up everything to be with you.” he wasn’t kidding either. it’d wouldn’t be any better if he dropped his career for you. if you could barely support yourself, how could you possibly support austin along yourself?

“now… how come you didn’t tell me this the moment you felt it?” you sat on your legs and managed to keep eye contact. “i didn’t want to stand in your way.” “you wouldn’t have aus. i wouldn’t have let it happen… i’ve been a mess for a while. now that you’re here, i’m having this realization. you are what i need.”

it was true, it hit you like a damn metro train. maybe it was the grass that made you fess up to austin, whatever it was, you said it. it was silence, you could slightly hear your own speeding heartbeat. you didn’t even know that he was the missing puzzle piece, but his soft wavy, lengthy, hair, his wifebeater that flaunt his fit arms, his tan skin and the little facial hair he had was drawing you back in.

“aus please say something…” you softly laughed. he just stared into your eyes as the corners of his mouth turned up, taking in the feeling he had been searching for.

he stared into your eyes, not saying anything. you noticed he began darting his eyes from your lips to your eyes. you unconsciously did the same, from his ocean blue eyes to his cherry red lips.

the space between you and austin became little, connecting your needy lips to each other. he cupped the side of your face as his other hand grabbed your waist, pulling your waist, bringing you closer to him. your hand coming in between you both, pushing him away.

your foreheads pressing together, your eyes were unable to open. “you okay?” his voice became hoarse. you nodded as you attached your lips once again only more passionate than before. both of his hands went to your waist as you laid on your back, with your lips still in contact.

his lips followed all way down to your neck, lightly nibbling at your skin and placing marks softly on your neck. your fingers wove through his hair, softly gasping and moaning. “aus it’s too late… for this…” you giggled, pushing his shoulders. “i know, i know, you’ve have class in the morning.” he pecked your lips. “couldn’t you—“ he placed another. “skip it…” he placed one last kiss, making last longer this time. “just once?” his eyes grew pure as he stared into yours.

“you’re such a dork austin.”

#austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfic #austin butler angst #austin butler imagine #austin/elvis #austin butler fluff #austin butler x reader #austin imagine

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indigosunsetao3 · 3 months

Text

Keeping Lines Blurry

Chapter 4 - Safehouse

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick X Original FMC 6.1k words - AO3 Link

When they were on the outskirts of London Gaz had instructed Olivia and Henry to put their phones into airplane mode then turn them off completely. There was a risk of being tracked and when Olivia tried to put up an argument Gaz gave her the option of just tossing it out the window instead. She opted for the first choice and once they were powered down, along with any laptops, Gaz exited the highway and started using backroads to where they were going. He knew how to get to Havering without issue but once they were there, he would have to navigate off the landmarks and street names Laswell had given him verbally. He wasn’t going to the GPS. The likelihood any of it had been tapped was low, they hadn’t had a tail all evening and the assailants were waiting at their house for them to arrive which meant they were planning on taking them there. But it still wasn’t worth the unnecessary risk.

He found on the drive he kept glancing back at Olivia who was pointedly looking out the window, then over at Henry who seemed to be watching everything going on. There were a few times Gaz found the man staring right back at him as if he were monitoring Gaz for sudden movements, or to see if he could catch him staring at his wife. Gaz had to keep telling himself that this was just another job, work needed to be the priority and he could process the mess of feelings he had in his chest later. It was hard to just focus on the work when the woman who shattered him sat mere feet away indifferent to how he was feeling, what she had done to him those years ago. Adding in the factor that she was with her husband, who she had an affair with while Kyle was deployed, it was beyond uncomfortable.

The roads were empty as they moved along the outskirts of the London borough and after a quick turn around Gaz managed to find the right address. It was a small cottage, emphasis on small, that sat far back off the road and was surrounded by farm land and woods. Even though they were alone he flipped the cars headlights out and travelled slowly up the gravel driveway, not wanting to draw any attention that there were occupants headed into the cottage. The drive curved around the back and when they were close to the backstep a motion light kicked on causing Gaz to curse a bit as he threw the car into park.

“Grab your bags and head in,” he instructed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed of a quick message to Laswell, then to Price. It was in code talking about how he had found the key to his safe finally and would be inventorying his stock for a few days. “It’s an agent’s house who is overseas for another few weeks,” he explained as Henry looked unimpressed at the wooden cottage. “There’s food and some other basic items inside. We’ll see what’s there and I can run out tomorrow. Depending on what the situation is in the morning,” Gaz continued feeling his temper rise a bit at the ungrateful expression on both Henry and Olivia’s faces. “Or I could just take you back to that street corner. That is still a viable option for me,” he finished with a quirk of his eyebrow as he hit send on third message to Abby having to reschedule.

“Why is it that you get to keep your phone, Sergeant?” Henry asked as rain pounded the car and the back porch light went out from lack of movement plunging them into darkness again. His eyes darted between Gaz who was staring at him from the rearview mirror and Olivia who was watching Kyle carefully.

“Because I’m not the person someone is trying to kill for once,” Gaz answered as he grabbed his large rifle from the passenger seat, “so I’m not being tracked. Even if I was, they’d have a much harder time getting to my phone. I have a bit more security than you,” he smirked, “with my top-secret military clearance.”

Henry was about to bite out a retort when Gaz hopped out of the car into the pouring rain, and jogged up to the backdoor. He didn’t have any bags with him since this was supposed to be a quick in and out trip, though if he stayed for much longer he was going to have to make the trip up to his sisters. He didn’t bother keeping a permanent place for himself since he was barely ever home, home was with the 141 these days. His sister had enough room in her home to house him whenever he had a break so she just kept all of his things there that wasn’t furniture.

Punching in the code to unlock the backdoor Gaz heard the doors of the SUV open as Henry and Olivia exited. The inside of the cottage was dark and Gaz felt around for a light switch before entering the security system code and stepping further in, taking in the cramped surroundings. He was standing in the kitchen which was long and narrow leading into a small eating area that bled right into the living room which was nothing more than a couch, lounge chair and television on stand. To the right he suspected was the bedroom behind a closed door and a bathroom next to it, the door propped open. He supposed living alone this was a good size but Gaz was already starting to feel cramped as Henry and Olivia stepped in behind him.

“Bedroom is that way,” Gaz indicated with a nod of his head as he walked into the living room and peered out the front window between the blinds. It was still just as dark outside when they had arrived and the rain was pattering against the roof loudly. He glanced over at Olivia who was shaking her arms to get the water off before she rubbed them lightly to warm up. “I’ll find the thermostat,” Gaz muttered as Henry went right for the bedroom toting his two pieces of luggage and laptop bag. “No laptops,” Gaz reminded Henry who didn’t deign to answer as he pulled open the bedroom door and disappeared inside.

Realizing he was very much alone with Olivia now, Gaz busied himself to find the thermostat and he turned it up a few degrees before rummaging around in a chest behind the couch to see if he could find himself blankets. He was going to be crashing on the couch which looked to be about a foot too short for him but it was better than the floor, so he hoped. Throwing some knitted yellow atrocity over the back cushions of the couch he heard Olivia grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet and the distinct sound of a cork popping. Not exactly what he had in mind when he said there was food but he would be lying to himself if he wasn’t going to be looking for alcohol.

When his phone vibrated in his pocket Gaz dug it out as he tossed his gloves onto the lounge chair, smirking at the text that just came in from Abby. She was severely disappointed in the fact that they were going to have to reschedule but seemed eager to keep the conversation going nonetheless. Typing up a quick response Gaz looked up as Olivia tugged her luggage behind her in one hand, a large pint glass in the other. She hadn’t even bothered with, or maybe hadn’t found, a wine glass and by the looks of it she should have just taken the whole bottle with her into the bedroom the pint glass was full to the brim.

“I hope that is news about my house,” Olivia stated as she paused at the bedroom door and looked pointedly at Gaz’s phone as he typed away again. “I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. There isn’t even a bath in this place,” she indicated pointing to the bathroom which indeed was just a shower and the only bathroom in the whole cottage. She had been looking forward to a long soak to ease her aching muscles and the prospect of having to sleep with Henry with Kyle literally fifteen feet away nauseated her. Hopefully the wine was still good and she could pass out before all her thoughts overwhelmed her. “And it smells stale in here,” she tacked on taking a sip of the wine to keep it from spilling over the edge more.

“Nothing yet,” Gaz answered as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, ignoring the vibration of Abby’s response that came in a matter of moments. “Sorry it’s not the Ritz, princess,” he tacked on emphasizing the last word, “but you’ve got a bed, roof over your head and most importantly, you’re still alive,” Gaz finished a bit deadpan. Money had certainly changed Olivia; she had never been this shallow when they were together. But he reminded himself he apparently didn’t know the real her all that time because the Olivia he thought he knew never would have done what she did.

“I think I’d rather take the risk at home,” Olivia answered quietly before pushing open the bedroom door. She knew Henry was in a towering temper and his only target was going to be her. Hopefully he’d keep it reigned in with Kyle being right there but there was no telling what he would do when he was in one of his moods. “Enjoy the couch,” she added in a sarcastic tone before snapping the door behind her. Henry was already sitting on the edge of the bed with the television on and by the way he watched her walk into the room she knew she was in for a long night.

Gaz made quick work of setting himself up a makeshift bed on the couch before freshening up in the bathroom. He could hear the television from the bedroom that was turned up quite loud and he thought he caught clipped muffled words, as if Henry and Olivia were arguing, but he didn’t linger to confirm it. Their marital life was their business, not his and the more distance between him and them the better. Gaz was hoping he could put a couple thousand miles between them come tomorrow, MI6 should really by the ones on security duty, not him. This was a favor and he knew Price was keeping tally of all the favors they dolt out so when the 141 needed help they could cash in.

After a brief search Gaz found some whiskey in the cabinets and poured himself a small glass, not wanting to dull his senses but just to take the edge off. His muscles were tight with stress and anger, coupled with the fatigue from barely sleeping in the past two days he needed something. He could use a smoke but the rain was torrential outside and he didn’t want to draw too much attention by moving in and out of the cottage so the whiskey and an old football match on the television would have to do.

Laying all his gear out on the coffee table, ready to grab at a moments notice, Gaz slipped his boots off before untucking his shirt from his pants and flopping down on the couch. It wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing he had ever laid on, even if his feet hung off the edge and he had to use three decorative pillows for his head. He had been messaging with Abby on and off for the better part of an hour when his eyes grew heavy and his thumbs paused over the letters of his next message debating on what he wanted to do. He knew the next few messages from him would probably earn him another hour or so of suggestive conversation; she’d already teased about what she would, or wouldn’t, wear when they did go out for drinks. But the exhaustion was winning and Kyle sighed as he sipped the last few drops of whiskey and set the empty glass on the table next to his pistol before sending a final message. He needed sleep and while he made sure she knew he was not dismissing her by any means, he needed to end it for the night. He promised to make it up to her and while she took a second longer to respond she said she understood and would be holding him to that promise.

The television from the bedroom was still blaring and Gaz could hear it over the football commentary. It dawned on him as he started to drift, one hand resting on his stomach holding his phone the other propped under his head, that they had the television up so loud to prevent him from hearing them. That was fine with him, the less he heard or saw of them the better it would be for all involved. He wasn’t quite sure if he had in fact fallen asleep or not when his mind finally wandered to that day that Olivia had turned his life completely upside down. It was a memory that had haunted him for many nights and it never got easier when he relived it.

Three years prior

“Welcome back 141,” a voice called out to the team as they climbed off the helicopter, Gaz’s hand on his head so he wouldn’t lose his hat in the wind from the whirring blades. “I’m sure you’re ready for a little R&R but we have a few things to take care of first,” the man stated, reaching out to shake Price’s hand as the helicopter took off again leaving them all in the middle of a windswept field. “Just final reports and buttoning up some details,” he added on to which Gaz and Soap exchanged a look. There were things that had happened on the mission that they had all agreed would not be spoken of or have a written records. That’s how things went sometimes, the less information the better in some instances.

“We’ve been gone almost three weeks,” Price stated looking back at his men who just shrugged. He knew they either did it now or they prolonged it a few hours and had to do it anyway. “You get one hour,” he conceded and the man nodded before gesturing for them to follow him.

Gaz was ready to be back in his room, to get back to his phone and reach out to family as soon as possible. Especially Olivia. She was never happy when he had to go dark for long periods and she had seemed a bit off when they had said goodbye the last time. His job was one of the only things they really fought about, she didn’t like being alone for so long and hated the lack of communication sometimes. They always worked it out though, Gaz reminding her he had been in the military since before they had even met so it was part of the package with him. And he also enjoyed teasing her over the fact that her pickup line at the bar when they first met was she liked a man in uniform. She couldn’t get the uniform without the work that went into it.

Their story was short and sweet, all of them agreeing on details they had already discussed before they had even been extracted. Price and Ghost did most of the talking while Gaz and Soap nodded and added in a few things here and there as the man and his team scribbled away. The mission had been a success though their methods hadn’t been exactly above board to get those results; thus the planned story. No one besides those in the 141 or the dead men would know the true details and that was how it needed to stay. Politics didn’t always understand what it took to get a win and they weren’t going to be held back by red tape and risk getting killed.

“Rest up,” Price ordered as they all arrived at their barracks. “We’ve got a few days to recoup before Laswell finds something else for us to get into,” he added with a smirk before going into his own room and shutting the door. That only told Gaz that their next mission was already lined up and Laswell was just ironing out the details.

Gaz walked into his room, shrugging off his vest and setting his pistol on the desk before he spotted the small pile of mail on his bed. Most of his mail came from his nephew who liked to send him his latest artwork or stories he had been working on. He was certainly the most creative of the family and even though he was only six he had a knack for art and Gaz kept every single thing he sent in a binder. Grabbing his phone and powering it up he tossed it onto his bedside table before he dropped heavily on the bed and started sorting through the envelopes. All of it was as expected except for a light purple envelope that has his name scrawled in precise cursive with no return address, dated five days after they had left.

He didn’t need a return address; he knew the writing was Olivia’s and the fact it was purple gave it away. She never sent him mail though, not unless it was his birthday or a holiday but none of those things were even close. Raising an eyebrow, he flipped it over and tore at the back flap to open it before pulling out a few pieces of folded notepad paper. He was about to unfold them to read when his phone started vibrating continuously, text messages and alerts filing in from the three weeks it had been off. Gaz reached over to grab it and flipped it to silent as he watched the notification number on his text messages continue to rise. His sister liked to text him as if he were still there and answering because, in her words, she would forget everything within a day.

Setting the phone facedown on the bed Gaz went back to the letter that spanned three pages of paper and unfolded it. He had his elbows resting on his thighs as he sat on the edge of the bed and as he got through each line, he felt his hands grip the paper harder and harder until it was creased under his fingers. It didn’t take him long to finish it. Olivia had been precise and extremely brutal in her words, leaving no room for imagination for what this letter was. It was a fucking Dear John letter. Something she promised she would never do to him, not after he had seen other men go through it and he had told her about it in one of their many late-night talks. He had confessed how it was a fear of his as they grew more serious, that she would just up and leave when things became too hard or too long and not have the decency to do it to his face. She swore she would never, promised they were together thick or thin and if it ever came to an end she’d wait until they could talk it through and decide together.

Glaring at the final line for a second longer Gaz threw the papers away from him and watched as they fell to the floor in three different spots. Olivia had taken all choice away from him, had pulverized him with her cold demand he not reach out to her and final note that she was already moving on and there was nothing he could do; she had made up her mind. Gaz snatched up his phone and ignored all the notifications and scrolled to Olivia’s name in his phone and hit dial. The phone rang once before a pre-recorded voice came over the line that the person was unavailable. With a snarl Gaz pulled the phone away from his ear before sending a text, which bounced back immediately as undeliverable.

His phone continued to alert with more notifications as he scrolled to his social media and immediately looked for Olivia’s pages but it was gone. All of her social media had disappeared from his view, she had removed him and blocked him. It felt like a weird fever dream as he continued to look, his eyes darting to the papers on the ground as if to confirm this really was happening before he finally called his sister. She picked up on the first ring and before she could finish exclaiming how happy she was he was back Gaz cut her off.

“Have you heard from Olivia?” He asked gruffly as he rose from the bed and bent down to grab the discarded letter. His sister hesitated before saying yes, Olivia had been by and had brought some boxes of his things and had left the engagement ring as well. “What else,” Gaz asked as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the closet door, the letter balled up in his fist. “I know there is more Kristie, I can tell by the way you are talking. So just tell me so we don’t have to play this game,” he continued as he waited for his sister to spit out whatever else she was holding back.

“It doesn’t matter Kyle,” Kristie said simply after a small sigh. But when Kyle didn’t answer, stubbornly waiting for her to finish whether she wanted to or not, she groaned. “She was with Henry,” she finished and winced hearing something slam on the other side of the line. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter Kyle. You were always suspicious of him and you were right. Better to know now, yeah? Before you married her and she still ran off anyway,” her voice was full of snark and Kyle could only imagine how the conversation had gone when Olivia dropped off his things.

Gaz had kicked out at his desk chair which knocked into the desk before falling to the side with a loud clatter. He heard Soap on the other side of the wall call out something but it was muffled through the concreate blocks. “She brought the ring back?” He asked simply after a long pause, feeling the defeat welling up to try and douse the anger and hurt.

“And all your things. It was a few boxes that I just put in the guest bedroom,” his sister answered softly. “I’m so sorry Kyle,” she started to say but Gaz cut her off.

“Just keep it safe for me, yeah?” He asked and she agreed and tried to say something else but Gaz cut her off again, “I have to go. Price needs me,” he lied. They both knew that it was a lie but she said okay and asked him to call back later to talk to his nephew before hanging up.

Gaz quickly picked up his desk chair and sat down in it before trying to call Olivia again, three times, four, before finally giving up and slamming his fist down on the desk. She had sufficiently blocked him out and while he wanted an answer and needed to know what the hell had happened; he wasn’t going to harass her over the phone by blocking his number or using another phone line. This was something that should have been done in person so he was going to make sure that it did happen in person one way or another.

Price had agreed on an emergency leave of two days without much question and Gaz took the first flight he could find back to London. It had been a foggy haze for him getting there, the letter folded in his back pocket as he travelled the familiar path on the underground to the neighborhood where they shared a flat. Third floor all the way on the corner and as Gaz climbed out the back of the taxi his eyes went instantly to the window, which was dark and barren of any blinds or curtains.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Gaz muttered as he fished his keys out and started up the steps three at a time that brought him to the faded green door of number 37B. He attempted to put his key into the lock but found it wouldn’t fit. So either she had the locks changed or what he suspected was she had fully moved out as well, based on the fact the windows had been bare. He stared at the door knob for a second contemplating his next move when he heard a door open and one of the neighbors step out.

“Kyle?” It was an elderly woman who he and Olivia had helped a few times with groceries or moving some furniture around to find her cat. “Oh! I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again,” she said with a small grin as she shooed her devil of a cat back inside her apartment with her foot. “Olivia said you all were moving,” she frowned a bit noticing Kyle still had the keys in his hand, “did you not know?” She inquired, pulling her robe tighter around herself as she arched an eyebrow.

“Ah,” Gaz answered before stuffing the keys into his jacket pocket, “no. No I didn’t,” he gave her a small smile before gesturing toward the door. “You should get inside, it’s cold out here,” he supplied moving to open the door for her, hoping her cat was not lurking nearby. The last thing he wanted was to chase the damn thing all over the complex, he’d done that once before and was scratched to hell for it once he caught it. Soap had laughed himself hoarse when Gaz had to explain he lost a fight with an eight pound orange cat when he saw the scratches on his neck.

“Oh,” was all the woman said, the sympathy in her face was enough to make Gaz want to turn and leave right then. He didn’t want sympathy right now, he wanted answers to something that he was apparently the last to know about. “Well, if you ask me,” she started as Gaz turned the doorknob for her and bent down to grab the newspaper she had come outside for, “she didn’t quite seem herself as they packed up all your things. She seemed a bit,” she paused as Kyle handed her the newspaper, “upset. The man with her seemed awfully rude, told me to mind my own when I asked why they were leaving.” She pursed her lips as she stepped inside the door and grabbed the handle from the other side to close it.

“That would be Henry, I’m sure,” Kyle answered flatly before his phone buzzed in his pocket. “I need to head out, it was nice to see you,” he dug around for his phone and saw it was a text from his nephew asking if he would be calling anytime soon. He needed to catch him up on everything that had happened while he was away. With one final nod he jogged down the steps and rapidly typed into his phone to hail yet another taxi to take him to Henry’s house. Everything so far had one common denominator and that was him.

Gaz had the taxi driver drop him at the end of the street and he walked up the half block to Henry’s house. He had been there before during a very awkward family dinner, one that Olivia had been dreading for weeks and begged him to go with her. Kyle had only endured only for her sanity because she seemed so uncomfortable with the whole thing and now, he was wondering if she had been so upset because her relationship with Henry had already started behind Kyle’s back.

Tugging his ballcap down low Kyle walked across the street from the house, his eyes taking in the long driveway from behind the gate. He saw Olivia’s car parked there along with her parents, and a few others as well, apparently they were having some sort of get together. Stopping by a pair of bins he feigned tying his shoe as he observed the area, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse and after a few minutes he did. Olivia stepped into full view of the large picture window that overlooked the front lawn, she was smiling and laughing with a glass of Gaz guessed was champagne, with Henry snaking his arm around her waist. There were flashes of lights, cameras Kyle assumed, and his fingers fumbled over the tied loops of his shoes as they kissed for the press.

A loud crash pulled Gaz from his twilight slumber and he instantly dove for his pistol, phone falling to the floor in a clatter as he sat up. It took him a second to get his bearings before he took in the living room that was lit by the faint glow of another football game on the television he had fallen asleep to. Standing up he cocked his gun and flipped the safety off as he listened for more noise, his head cocked to the side as his eyes swept the room. He heard another muffled bang as something fell to the floor and Gaz snapped his attention toward the bedroom where Olivia and Henry were. Their blaring television was off and he inched closer to try and figure out what the sounds were since it was coming from their room. He needed to determine if they were a threat or innocuous stumbling in the dark in an unfamiliar place before another sound met his ears and he all but staggered backwards to get away.

“Bloody hell. Couldn’t keep it in your pants one damn night,” Gaz said none too quietly as he backed away, flipping the safety back on his gun and stuffing it into his waistband. He couldn’t sit in the living room now, just knowing what was going on in there and the fact his ears had locked onto the noise there was no way to ignore it. Snatching his hat off the couch he slipped into his unlaced boots and stomped through the kitchen and out the backdoor for a smoke. It was still raining and he ducked under the eave of the roof as best as he could as he lit up in the dark, having turned off the motion detector light on his way out.

Listening to his ex getting railed by her husband, the man she left him for, while he had been assigned to protect them had to be some form of torture. Gaz wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this sort of karma but it must have been bad whatever it was. He thought had had been through enough with Olivia and their relationship, thought the wedding invitation dated for their anniversary had been enough cosmic fuckery. But no, he was still knee deep in the shit three years later by some unlucky chance.

He lit a second cigarette and took his time smoking it, staring out into the darkness of the yard as before glancing at his watch. He didn’t know when it would be clear to go back inside and even if he was exhausted Kyle knew sleep wasn’t coming back for him anytime soon. Surely a man of Henry’s age couldn’t last that fucking long right? He was debating a third smoke after standing in the dark for a while just staring off into space when a light flipped on in the kitchen sending light cascading on the front lawn from the window. Gaz cut his eyes to peer into the small door window to see Olivia rummaging around in the cabinets again, her back to him as she looked.

Gaz decided since she had already made this so uncomfortable it was his turn to make her squirm a bit. Opening the door he stepped inside and whipped his hat off to shake off some of the water from it before sliding it back over his head again. “I think you drank all the wine, though I did leave some whiskey if you need it for a nightcap,” Gaz stated as he flipped his lighter between his fingers. “I’d offer you a smoke but I don’t think it was that good if it only lasted that long,” he smirked, though it wasn’t a playful gesture.

“Go to hell Kyle,” Olivia snapped as she slammed one of the cabinet doors shut and faced him. She had been hoping he had been asleep on the couch when she came out but when she didn’t see his form in the dark she assumed he had gone outside and was rushing to get back to the bedroom before he saw her. She had hoped to God he hadn’t heard anything but judging by his last sentence he knew, or thought he knew, what had happened in the bedroom. She knew her face was red but it wasn’t from exertion, nor embarrassment, she always turned red when she cried which drove her insane because she could never hide it. Her cheeks and neck were blotchy, the skin a mottled patchy red, and her eyes were red rimmed and still a bit glazed. “I just need something to eat. You can get back to whatever it is you were doing,” she continued as she pried open another cabinet and found a box of crackers and reached for it.

“What happened?” Gaz asked instantly when he caught sight of her face as she attempted to hide it behind the cabinet door. She didn’t answer as she pulled down a snack box and ripped open the cardboard, her hands shaking as she attempted to pop open the bag inside. He knew what she looked like when she was upset, had been the cause and also comfort to those tears more than once. “Olivia,” Gaz pried as he reached out to grab the box from her and saw her fully tense as his hand came within inches of her wrist, as if out of fear. “Tell me what happened,” his tone a little softer, “let me get...” but another voice cut in

“Liv,” Henry’s voice came from the dark kitchen doorway and Gaz turned his head to find the man in nothing but his boxers. At least Olivia had the decency to pull on set of pajamas before she left the bedroom. “Come back to bed dear,” he grinned a bit looking at Kyle as he spoke, “I think we’ve kept the Sergeant up long enough. Sorry for the, ah,” he paused as if looking for the right word, “late night debauchery but you know how it can get sometimes.” His smile was feline and Gaz could feel the tension roiling off Olivia as she turned with her still unopened box of crackers and walked toward Henry not daring to even glance at Gaz as she went.

“Everything alright?” Gaz asked Henry simply as Olivia walked right past him and toward the bedroom without stopping. Gaz was perfectly aware that things were in fact not alright based on how Olivia had been crying and she seemed scared but he couldn’t act on things when he didn’t know what it was that had upset her. “Only your wife seems a little upset,” Gaz tacked on as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“The past few days have been overwhelming,” Henry supplied evenly as he glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom door. “She’s just a bit tired and understandably upset about it all. I thought a roll in the sheets would help,” he shrugged a bit, “but you know how women can be a bit delicate. And our Liv gets upset so easily at change, I’m sure she will be better when we get home.” He laughed as if he and Gaz were sharing the same joke which Gaz certainly was not in on and, if anything, it set Gaz more on edge.

Gaz didn’t answer as Henry turned around and followed Olivia into the bedroom, shutting the door with a snap. Something was weird about the whole situation and since there was nothing else for him to do, all chances of sleep were gone, Gaz decided it was time to start doing some digging on Henry. He wanted find out what he and Olivia had been up to for the past three years while Gaz had been doing his best to pretend neither of them existed. Maybe he would find some more answers as to why Olivia had picked this man over him or at least figure out why things felt off.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod #my fic #gaz fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x oc #keeping lines blurry

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