#but I'm not sure his replacement is the right driver to get the seat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holllandtrash · 11 months

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haunted | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 2 to fragile line)

Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

you're racing. daniel isn't, but he's not gone either, is he? word count: 7.6k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: angst really, more incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps again, platonic love all around, not as big of a rollercoaster as part 1 but just wait till part 3 lol

“Do you know?”

“Do I know what?” You asked, wondering why that was the first thing your teammate said when you opened the door to your flat.

Lando didn’t even bother with a ‘hey, how was your day, what’s up’, he was just straight to the point, only you had no idea what the point was.

He was still on a high after coming in second place the other day, so you let the impoliteness slide. Usually Lando didn’t look like a mix between a sweaty mess and a confused child, but you assumed he was like this because whatever was on his mind was important.

“You haven’t- did you-” Lando stammered over his words. “When’s the last time you checked your phone?”

You felt around in your pockets and glanced over your shoulder with a bit of a shrug. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked at your phone in a few hours. Your morning was spent training and running errands now that you had some time and were home for a little while before the next race. You were still carrying a lot of energy after your successful finish in Silverstone that sitting still and scrolling through your phone was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Can you just find your phone, please?” Lando asked, because he didn’t want to be the person to break the news. He came over to talk to you, to walk you through it, to be someone to vent to if you needed it, but the last thing he wanted was to be the one to say it.

It took a minute, but you found it in your bedroom, the screen lighting up and vibrating with each notification. As you walked back towards Lando, you scrolled through them all, trying to see which was the most important.

Eventually, you landed on one from the official F1 app.

Daniel Ricciardo Replaces Nyck de Vries

Daniel Ricciardo was returning to the grid.

Daniel was coming back.

But did he ever really leave in the first place?

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in Monaco, almost a year ago now. The day your relationship fell apart, crumbling to pieces around you.

You thought maybe, maybe, he’d call you before the next race or at least try to find you somewhere in the paddock to have a civil conversation but that didn’t happen.

Of course, neither of you had time for a conversation anyway.

Daniel released his video 24 hours before media day in Belgium, announcing he would be leaving the team. It broke your heart watching it in your hotel room, knowing he was only a few floors up and probably struggled to record it. You could picture him retaking it a few times, just to get the words right, his tone right. He didn’t want to paint McLaren as being at fault for this decision, even if that was the case.

If you weren’t the driver who was set to replace him, you would have been there in that room giving him encouraging nods and telling him to just speak to the fans. You would have been there when his head fell back against the wall in defeat, eyes closed as the weight of his unknown future crashed down on him. You would have crawled onto his lap and held him, telling him that another team was going to be desperate for him.

Instead you were in your own room, watching the video like the millions of other followers he had. The only difference was, none of those followers asked themselves if they were to blame.

It was just you, wiping the corner of your eyes and asking yourself if this was your fault.

Surely when your news dropped, people would start pointing fingers, people would talk.

Daniel Ricciardo trained her, they would say. He helped her get to this point and now she’s taking his seat.

They’d throw assumptions into the wind about how this was probably your plan all along.

It wasn’t, of course. Your plan was to get a seat in Formula 1 and see Daniel as friendly competition when you stepped onto the grid. You wanted to keep the support system alive when you moved up, knowing you had someone watching your back when you climbed out of the car. You wanted to be able to go home with him at the end of the night on Sunday and watch the race back with him, playfully critiquing each other's moves and ideally celebrating your victories, together.

You never wanted to leave him without a seat.

But part of you must have known he wasn’t driving next year, right? You never brought up the contract, he never talked about leaving, nor did he talk about potentially moving to another team, which seemed like something you’d talk to your partner about.

Daniel said nothing. You said nothing. And in the back of your head you knew he wasn’t signed to another team, you just didn’t want to accept it.

You didn’t want to admit that part of that was your fault.

Zak Brown put you in the worst position possible. He was giving you the chance to make your dream a reality, but in doing so, you were losing the one person who shared that dream with you.

It shouldn’t have been hard to put on a smile during that post-race interview in Spa. You finished second, your hot streak had continued despite the turmoil your heart was going through. So not only was the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the podium, but McLaren had decided that morning was the perfect time to announce you were replacing Daniel.

They didn’t word it like that, though. They just stated that you were to race for McLaren for 2023. No mention of Daniel, even if that was all anyone had questions about.

“Second place in Spa, how are you feeling?” The reporter asked as you struggled to get comfortable in the white leather chair, your trophy at your feet.

You weren’t surprised he, Richard from the official FIA reporting team, jumped directly to you, bypassing any questions for Liam Lawson who finished third. No one had yet to get a comment on your official move to F1, not having any time this morning since the news was announced.

“It's exciting, it’s good to be back as well,” you nodded, turning to Felipe on your right who nodded as well. “A break is always needed, but there’s really no better feeling than getting back behind the wheel.”

“You’ve never podiumed here before,” Richard pointed out, “There’s quite a difference in performance from last year to this year, we’ve all noticed.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” You laughed, not caring at all if it sounded forced, and you knew it did because Liam raised his hand to mouth to hide his chuckle and tried to play it off like he was just scratching his jaw.

“Well it’s just no wonder that McLaren has snatched you up for the 2023 season, with how much you’ve shown this year what you’re capable of. Care to comment on that?”

There it was. The first official request to talk about McLaren.

“I mean, we’ve all seen the news at this point,” another laugh but this time it was more out of discomfort.

You looked at Felipe, he nodded again but it was short and encouraging, silently telling you it was okay to take the spotlight even though it was him who had won this race.

You cleared your throat, thinking about what the PR team from McLaren told you. You’re focused on Prema. McLaren knows this. McLaren is supporting you while you finish your F2 season and by all means, shut down any topic regarding Daniel Ricciardo.

“Really, I’m just focused on finishing the season off strong with Prema,” you told Richard, feeling your smile start to slip because how could you be excited over that or a trophy when you knew what he was thinking and what the whole world was thinking.

You prayed he wouldn’t bring it up, but the media world was hell.

“And Daniel’s departure-

Liam promptly lifted the mic to lips, cutting off Richard before he could finish that thought. “We’ll all miss her, I think that’s safe to say. But maybe it’ll be a bit easier for the rest of us to podium when she’s gone.”

Quiet laughter spread through the audience and you just turned to Liam and mouthed a quick ‘thank you’. He didn’t say anything back, just dropped his head to your shoulder for a second and smiled, playing up the whole we’ll miss her statement. It wasn’t an act, though. Most of the guys you raced with had stopped you at some point this morning sharing their congrats and giving you a hug, telling you that you deserved that spot in F1.

Even Felipe said it and meant it, and he was on the fast track to win this year, also eyeing a spot in F1. You had a good support system in this series.

He dropped his head to your other shoulder and your lips fell into a playful pout, raising your hands to the sides of both driver’s faces. It made a cute photo. The F1 social media team really played into the love you had from your competitors.

You had a lot of support in the paddock, surprisingly, from other drivers.

Mick found you before his own race started. He was your first teammate during your rookie season in F2, it only made sense he was the first current driver to congratulate you.

“You deserve it,” Mick told you, arms tightly wrapped around your body as he gave you a comforting embrace that almost compared to the one you were craving from Daniel, but still something was missing.

Mick’s contract was up at the end of 2022, and no one knew where he was going but he assured you that no matter what, he’d be on your side.

You sort of interacted with Lando on Sunday after your feature race. When you passed him in the paddock, he held his hand out for a fist bump and gave you a wide smile. The cameras caught it, they caught everything apparently, and it was the first photo you saw on social media when you got to the airport late Sunday evening.

First of many celebratory fist bumps, McLaren’s caption said. It was a nice photo, truly.

Too bad the comments were anything but.

Not McLaren hyping up the fact that Danny’s girlfriend is replacing himIsn’t she only fourth in the driver standings in F2 lol We don’t want her we want the honey badgerEven worse when you think about the fact that they are literally in a relationship and she’s taking his seatNo class from any of them

No one seemed to know that you and Daniel were done, but how would they know? Your relationship was private, your break up would be too.

Your break up.

And then it hit you. Right there in the airport. After the adrenaline of a podium had worn off. After the excitement of signing with a new team had passed. After you were finally left alone after being surrounded by your team and drivers and press all day, you broke down.

It was embarrassing. The only saving grace was the fact that you were sat in the corner of the premium lounge, facing the windows, so at least no one could see you cry. You weren’t quiet though, you knew your faint sobs could be heard from anyone within a 3 metre radius.

And you knew how immature this was, crying in an airport. But when you felt things you felt them with every fibre in your being. You were overjoyed beyond words, shaking when you got first podium in F2, and then feeling that multiplied by fifty when you won in Monaco.

You were madly in love with Daniel, despite only dating for a year. It wasn’t young love, puppy love, a whirlwind romance, or any of those sappy headlines. You were head over heels, ready to spend your life with the man who lifted you up above the rest of the world. Who not only put you on a pedestal, but made sure other people did too. He was always in your corner, even before you started dating. He loved you long before you even realised you could also love him.

As an athlete, as a future world championship contender, as a friend, Daniel loved you.

The day you knew you loved him, you knew you were screwed, you both talked about the risks.

Fragile line, you called it, walking a tightrope, he joked. There was such a huge margin of error, so many things that could go wrong by falling in love with, not only a driver but the driver who mentored you.

The media would turn against you. Sponsors would shake their heads. Your future could have been jeopardised. You’d be labelled as a poor role model for girls in motorsport.

You walked a dangerous and delicate line with Daniel, but you didn’t think it would snap beneath your feet. You never thought you’d be the one to break it.

So yes, you were full on sobbing in the airport as you waited to board your flight to Amsterdam.

“Pretty sure podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.”

You heard the British accent and immediately sat up, wiping your eyes and sniffling to at least try and make it seem like you weren’t crying. You turned your head and watched as Lando sat down next to you on the dark blue chair, resting a leg over his knee.

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him, worrying that if you did try to talk, all that would come out would be more cries.

Lando reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a travel size pack of tissues, tossing them to you without so much as a word. He waited a few minutes as you composed yourself, using some of the tissues and pocketing the rest for later.

“You okay?” Lando asked, sounding concerned for your well being because he had a point, podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.

“Am I okay?” You repeated back followed with a playful scoff. “Do I look okay?”

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

Lando nodded, clearly unsure what to do in this situation. His current teammate, his friend, was leaving at the end of this year and his new teammate, a girl he had barely had 5 conversations with, was having a breakdown in the airport.

Lando, whether he liked it or not, knew he would be caught in the middle of whatever this mess was for the next few months or so.

He knew you and Daniel were an item. Daniel told himself shortly after Silverstone, and only because Lando had asked, simply curious.

“You and Y/N,” he started off, hesitantly, seeing the two of you interact much more flirtatiously then you had before. “You two are..” he didn’t know how to word it.

Daniel just winked, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

That pretty much confirmed it. And then when you started showing up in the back of the McLaren garage during race weekends, Lando sort of accepted it, quickly getting used to seeing you around.

You were always friendly with each other, but your attention was always on Daniel, too. Lando saw the way you were quick to rush to his side after a difficult race. How you were the first one Daniel looked for when he stepped out of the car, eyes searching the sea of orange for you. Lando heard the way Daniel talked about you, the way he praised you, telling everyone who would listen that you deserved a spot in Formula 1. That man had a note saved on his phone of your stats, race wins, qualifying times, records broken, all of it.

Daniel loved you. Everyone who knew him saw it, and Lando was no exception.

So one could imagine the uncertainty he felt as he approached you in the airport. Surely you and Daniel weren’t together anymore, right? Or were you somehow going to work through this? Could you work through it? Taking his seat?

Lando, like everyone else, was dying to know.

“Has he said anything?” You asked him before Lando had a chance to get a word out. That question alone confirmed that you and Daniel weren’t on speaking terms at least.

“About you?” Lando asked and when you nodded, he saw the devastation hit your eyes as he shook his head. “Honestly he wasn’t very talkative today, left right after the post race stuff.”

“How is he?” You then asked. “Has he- is there any word on him finding a seat next year?” You pulled your knees up to your chest, staring hopefully at the British driver.

It pained Lando to shake his head again, “Not yet, but it’s still pretty early. I’m sure he’ll find a seat.”

You nodded, praying that Lando was right. When you dropped your chin to your knees, averting your eyes when you felt the tears well up again, Lando’s chest grew tight. He felt bad for you. This was a hard position for you to be in.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lando assured you. “Danny’s one of the best there is, but the results just aren’t there. Zak didn’t see any point in continuing if it’ll just end up being more of the same.”

Lando tried to be encouraging, really, and you were thankful for that, but he got the hint after a while that you just didn’t want to talk about it. Before leaving you alone, he gave you his number and told you that if you needed anything, to just reach out.

You were always friendly with Lando, but that was the start to your friendship.

It was Lando who shared your picture when you claimed first place in Zandvoort, celebrating your success with a cheeky caption stating how he better see you bring the hot streak to McLaren next year. He was the one who interrupted your post-race interview in Monza, spotting you in the paddock being interviewed by Will Buxton. Lando, despite needing to follow his own pre-race schedule, came and draped an arm over your shoulder and playfully interrupted whatever Will was trying to say.

“Look at that,” Will laughed when you struggled to shake Lando’s arm off of you, “Future teammates. Lando, how excited are you to be working with this incredible talent next year?”

“Oh extremely excited,” Lando answered, leaning into the mic gripped between your fingers. “She won’t be able to keep up with me though.”

And that it was it. He ruffled his hand through your hair and took off again.

He checked in on you between races, whenever a new headline was trending, whenever someone from social media had the audacity to compare yours and Daniels stats and pin you against each other as if there wasn’t already enough you were struggling with.

Lando didn’t want you to come into the new season already feeling defeated. He was still friends with Daniel, he always would be, but he had a kind heart. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t on anyones ‘side’, but more importantly, he saw you as a driver, as his next teammate. He didn’t see you as Daniel’s ex who was now stealing his seat like half of the world did.

It was also his car that you drove during the practice sessions in Austin and Abu Dhabi. Lando happily stepped aside for you, giving you a supportive pat on the back and strategically blocking your line of sight towards Daniel as he got ready for his sessions as well.

You still hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t even looked at each other. You tried, honestly, to catch his eye but he refused to even glance your way. He was in and out of that car so quick, finding any excuse to leave the garage while you were there.

It hurt. You knew his mind was made up. He was upset, he was hurt, he wanted nothing to do with you and seeing you in his garage sent him spiralling.

All you saw was Daniel turning his back on you, but what you didn’t know was this situation was giving Daniel constant headaches. He couldn’t look at you, the girl he loved, and watch you climb into the McLaren knowing that you’d be doing that throughout the entire next season and he wouldn’t.

All he ever wanted was to see you in a Formula 1 car, but not like this.

You stood in Lando’s side of the garage during the last race. You wore your McLaren jacket, you had the orange headphones on as stared up at the screen. Your back was towards Daniel’s car, so you missed the way he did actually look at you. It pained him to see how well you blended in with the team, his team. He almost told himself it looked like you belonged there, but he quickly put his helmet on and climbed into his car, gearing up for the race.

He finished 9th. Lando finished 6th. And with that, the season ended.

Daniel was done.

You watched him celebrate with those closest to him. You stood off to the side and thought about how if things were different, you’d be clinging to him, sweaty race suit and all, waiting to congratulate him in your own way back at the hotel. You would tell him you loved him, that he didn’t need McLaren. You’d joke and say that you two could form your own team, because that’s what you should have been till the end, a team.

But that wasn’t the case anymore. McLaren was your team now.

It was only a matter of days until Daniel spoke to the media about his departure.

“I can’t speak ill of her,” Daniel said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He knew that coming on this podcast that he’d be asked about you and your contract. He was advised against it but the second his working relationship ended with McLaren, he agreed to talk, to share his side.

“But she’s the one who took your seat,” Jaycee so politely pointed out. “As happy as I am to see a female in Formula 1, it’s bittersweet knowing a driver such as yourself is left without a spot.”

Daniel sighed into the mic in front of him, “McLaren handed her her dream on a papaya platter and she grabbed it. I think a lot of drivers would do the same in that scenario.”

“But it stings a little more, doesn’t it?” Greyson, her co-host asked. “Because you two were-

“Friends, yeah,” Daniel interrupted. “Yeah we were close.”

“You mentored her,” Greyson pushed for more of an admittance as to what their relationship was. “You were seen with her and the Prema team during a handful of weekends. She even said you were her mentor.”

Daniel naturally hesitated, “I saw her potential early on and I wanted to help her grow. I really did want to see her in Formula 1, despite what anyone says about the situation she’s an incredible driver.”

“Everyone who follows Formula 1 knows you have a strong connection,” Jaycee said, subtly trying to pry for more as well. “After her Silverstone crash in 2021 you were in her garage. And then you were seen in Monaco together a few weeks later. You two weren’t just friends in the paddock, you worked closely together outside of race weekends too-

“Did your girlfriend take your seat or not?” Greyson blurted out, earning a glare from Jaycee on his left, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted to know, the whole world wanted to know what was going on between you and Daniel now that you were signed for McLaren.

And you had to give props to Daniel, he played it off about as smoothly as he could.

“McLaren sees more potential in her than me,” he said, still smiling because that’s who he was. A people pleaser, always grinning, always a breath of fresh air. “If they can give her what they promised me, then that’s good for all of them. Do I like how the situation went down? No, but that’s the reality of Formula 1. You’re not safe unless you’re winning and I wasn’t winning.”

“And your relationship-

“She doesn’t need a mentor anymore, does she?” Daniel asked, disregarding any ideas of the two of you dating. “She made it to Formula 1. That was what she wanted. I wish her well.”

That was the closest thing to confirmation of your break up that anyone would get.

And the interview ended shortly after that, doing wonders on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. You listened to it also, just waiting for Daniel to say something horrible but of course he didn’t. That wasn’t him. He was the good guy. He was the hero. He got you to Formula 1 and was holding his head up high, wishing you well and thanking McLaren for the last 2 years.

You wished it ended there, the conversations surrounding you. It should have ended there.

But fast forward to the awards dinner at the end of the year, just shortly after the last race of the season.

You sat with your mum at a round table with Felipe and his partner and few other people involved in Formula 2.

You had finished second in the standings, not first like you had dreamt of, but Felipe told you that first place in the championship would come in F1, don’t worry.

And you weren’t sure who had made the seating chart, but from where you sat, you could easily see Daniel at his table, only a few metres away from your own. He sat with some of his friends and some people from his personal team. He was also purposely avoiding looking in your direction, knowing that if he did, he’d be making eye contact for the first time in months.

He’d see your stunning features and bright eyes standing out among the rest. He’d see the low cut, thinly strapped black dress, showing off the collarbones he used to mark with his lips, the trail between your breast and down to your navel that he used to make with his tongue. If he looked at you, he’d think of all the ways the night would have ended if things were different.

If he looked at you, he’d be reminded that the girl he loved was the one who broke him. He’d be reminded that as hurt as he was by your actions, by taking his seat, he couldn’t forget the memories you made, the moments he shared, the way he used to admire you.

He didn’t love you anymore, though. He couldn’t. He forced those feelings out, replacing them with regret for ever deciding to help you because if he hadn't helped you, it wouldn’t have been you that took his seat.

So Daniel looked at the stage, his friends, his food. He didn’t look at you.

He didn’t even look at you when you walked up to collect your trophy, choosing that moment to be the perfect time to walk up to the open bar. He ordered a few more drinks and a shot on a whim, downing it back before walking to the table, 2 freshly poured glasses of rum and cokes in hand.

Daniel got drunk that night. He didn’t mean to, but it helped him deal with all he had going on. It was a good way to end the 2022 season, to put it behind him. You, McLaren, all of it.

Someone should have stopped him when he noticed you about to leave at the end of the night, a white coat draped over your shoulders. That should be my blazer, Daniel thought, thinking of the countless nights he had given you his jacket for warmth.

You were in the middle of a conversation with someone from Prema when you felt a tug in your arm. When you looked up and saw it was Daniel who was pulling you off to the side, your heart sank. There were no butterflies anymore, just a lot of anxiety and guilt eating you from the inside.

You could tell he hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. For a split second, his gaze was soft, almost like he thought about congratulating you for a successful season. For a moment, proud Daniel was back and for a moment, you got your hopes up. Maybe this line you broke could be fixed.

It was a bad sign when his eyes grew cold, features hardening along with them. This man, who was all you wanted, stared at you like you were a stranger, and maybe you were now.

He opened his mouth and the room around you fell dark and quiet. It was your mind playing horrible tricks on you, putting a spotlight in this moment in time so it would haunt your memories after tonight. You knew the earth was still spinning, that people around you were still moving, but you couldn’t trust anything, frozen in this space with Daniel.

“I hope you’re happy,” Daniel spoke softly, but his words cut through you like a knife. If someone told you that your heart was bleeding, you’d believe it. That’s certainly what it felt like.

He didn’t want you to be happy. He didn��t want you taking his seat. He didn’t want to see you live out his dream. He put on a beautiful charade for the press, but deep down you knew, he saw you as nothing more but a mistake. He no longer wanted you to succeed, despite telling the world he wished you would.

"Daniel-"

You automatically reached for him and he flinched backwards. It hurt, seeing him react how he was. He didn’t want you touching him, he just wanted to get one more word in, wanted you to know that he was still bitter and would be for a while.

You stood there and watched him walk away, haunted by the pain and broken trust in his eyes, a look that would become burned into your mind during your restless sleeps.

And then there was the week where you just didn’t sleep. The week after Daniel’s contract with Red Bull was announced.

He wasn’t driving with them, but he wasn’t leaving Formula 1 either.

He’d still be around the paddock during selective race weekends. He’d be there, putting on a show for the fans because everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him on the grid, and if he couldn’t race, at least he was still there in the garage as a reserve driver.

The same excitement couldn’t be said for you.

Despite forming a close bond with Lando really early into the pre-season, it helped that he was only two years younger than you, you were not met with open arms and loud cheers.

You had some supporters, a lot actually, but nothing compared to Daniel’s fans. You were pulled alert and critiqued for every move you made. You could understand the questions that circulated when you didn’t even finish the first race in Bahrain, retiring early because of an engine problem. Did Zak really make the right move by replacing Daniel with you? What could you bring to the team if this was how you started the season?

But it was the talk about what you did off the track that really got to you. You didn’t care if people weren’t a fan of your driving, you knew F1 fans had their favourites and you knew you weren’t everyone’s.

However social media had a way of spinning everything. You lost count of the ridiculous rumours. Apparently, you were now replacing Daniel with Lando because that playful interview you did talking about red flags in relationships really gave away the fact you were sleeping together.

Oh you were also sleeping with Mick Schumacher, because you had a thing for reserve drivers, it seemed. And the way he found you after your second race without points again in Saudi Arabia made it so obvious that you were with him.

And you couldn’t forget about how big of a bitch you were, choosing to not acknowledge Daniel in Australia when you walked past him in the paddock. It was his home race, he was the reason you were even racing, and you couldn’t even stop and give him a smile?

These rumours were truly getting annoying.

Of course, you couldn’t come out and tell people that Lando was seeing someone because it was so new and private and not your story to tell. No one cared that Mick was your teammate at Prema in 2020 and you guys had always been friends. No one would believe you if you said that you didn’t even see Daniel in the paddock, being too engrossed in your conversation to notice that the Australian was walking past.

You grew to hate seeing him during race weekends.

It was a constant reminder of what could have been.

What if you had waited a year and signed with McLaren then? Would Daniel still hold this hatred towards you if his contract played out like it was supposed to?

What if you signed with a different team like Williams instead, and someone else replaced Daniel? If Oscar Piastri had taken his spot, would Daniel be this resentful still to see you driving? Or would he happily walk by your side in the paddock, him in Red Bull polo, you in your Williams racing suit? Would he have accompanied you during the race weekends when he didn’t have Red Bull duties?

Was there ever a scenario where he stood in your garage and watched you race? Cheering you on, despite what place you finished? Despite where he was in his own career?

Or was that just a far fetched dream?

Because let’s face it, if Daniel was still racing this year, it would be hard to support you and focus on his own season. How could he be happy if he DNF’d and you finished in the points? How could you be happy if the media would say that you were only using Daniel to get ahead?

If you had signed for Williams and Daniel was still replaced, it would be difficult for him to watch you race, to watch you do what he loved. How could he be in your corner when he no longer had a corner of his own to stand in?

Maybe you were doomed from the start. Fragile line, you said. How true that was. It was always going to snap.

You heard through the grapevine that Daniel had said you taking his seat before his contract was even up was the worst thing you could have possibly done.

Was that in regards to McLaren? To your relationship? From a sportsmanship standpoint? You had no idea. You just knew Daniel wasn’t impressed that you were racing and he wasn’t.

You hated seeing him during the few races he attended. You were petrified to run into him in the paddock, in the pit lane, in the hotel for christ sakes, you didn’t want to see him. At one point, you were desperate for even just a smidge of attention from him and now you felt sick whenever you heard he would be in attendance.

You went five races in a row without scoring any points. You could practically hear Daniel’s smug expression when you crossed the finish line each time. He was probably eating this up, knowing you were the one struggling now.

The only difference was, you didn’t have him to turn to after a shitty run in the McLaren.

Lando tried to be helpful, but he was struggling too. People called the car a tractor and honestly, so did you and Lando in private. You had a group chat with your personal trainers and the four of you called yourselves the farmers. The jokes made and lighthearted conversations shared were the only silver linings during this depressing start of a season.

Monaco was better, sort of.

You finished 10th, so at least that was a point under your belt.

But Daniel was everywhere.

He loved Monaco, he lived in Monaco, of course it was no surprise he was there that weekend.

You found yourself jogging past his flat the Thursday before the race, and you didn’t do it on purpose but it was the same route you had taken all of those times you had spent days on end at Daniel’s. Sometime he joined you for those morning runs, sometime you’d return and he was making breakfast.

But you came to a stop on the opposite side of the street and stared up at it, recognising his balcony instantly. You saw the plant in the corner that you had given him a few months into your relationship and despite him claiming he wasn’t a plant guy, he managed to keep it alive.

Your heart felt heavy. All you wanted was to knock on his door and be welcomed in with wide arms and that stupid smile of his. You wanted to not feel anxious when you saw him in the paddock. You wanted to not be holding your breath every time you got out of the racecar, wondering what Daniel thought of your run.

You were simultaneously on edge at all moments while also still dying to make him proud. You didn’t think that would ever go away.

Even during the weekends he wasn’t there, you were looking over your shoulder constantly. Even if you knew that he was on the other side of the world, he was still on your mind. He haunted your thoughts from the moment you walked into the garage to when you got out of the car at the end of the race weekend.

Lando called you out on it that Thursday in Silverstone.

“You’re in your head,” he told you, seeing how your main focus wasn’t racing, it was Daniel. You were unsure what he was referring to though and Lando just rolled his eyes, “Well actually, Daniel’s in your head. And he’s keeping you from being the driver I know you can be.”

That was all he said on the topic.

And he was right.

You were so worried about Daniel. About what he would think of your races. About trying to avoid him during the weekends he was there. About still trying to make him proud but not too proud where he resented you more for taking his seat. About the hundreds of scenarios that could have happened if you had made a different choice.

Because of all of these thoughts, that seat at McLaren was still very much Daniel’s. You allowed it to be.

You needed to stop telling yourself you took his seat because that’s what it would always be then, his seat. Lando stood up, patting your knee after dropping those few words and you decided right then and there that it was your seat.

You wouldn’t let Daniel haunt you anymore.

And qualifying was where this new mentality really showed.

You were buzzing with energy when your engineer told you that you had gotten P3 and were starting on the second row for tomorrows race. You climbed out of the car in parc ferme and ran directly to Lando. He hugged you, he was proud of you.

“That’s the driver we all know,” Lando said when he pulled his helmet off. His hand was on your shoulder, both of you were wearing identical smiles of pure joy. “Where the hell has she been all this time?”

You didn’t even have an answer, too excited about what this meant for you, for the team. You post-quali interviews went by in a blur, your hands were shaking the entire time. You blacked out during it, still trying to process the fact that you had finished third in qualifying, but you did remember Lando reaching over at one point and dropping his hand to your knee. It was polite, it didn’t mean anything more than a playful stop shaking you’re making us all look bad, but god did the media run with it.

You didn’t let anything on social media get to you, telling yourself that you had to stay focused for the race. In fact you even gave your phone to your trainer, Oliver, asking him to take it for the night and to just wake you up in the morning.

And Oliver was a good trainer, he had also become a good friend since you joined McLaren so you trusted him with your phone.

Which meant he knew your password.

So when he saw your phone light up that night with a text from Daniel, Oliver panicked. He knew the right thing to do would be to just leave it alone, you’d see it in the morning. You’d see the message. The short but seemingly sweet;

P3, nice job

But a text like that would send you spiralling and you didn't need that before one of the most important races of the season for you, Oliver knew this. He knew you were supposed to be getting over Daniel, he knew how much the Australian just being in the paddock messed with your mind. He knew you had to focus on racing.

There was so much uncertainty with the text. Was this him extending an olive branch? Was he genuine, or was this supposed to be taken with a bit of salt? Oliver could read it both ways. Either Daniel was truly happy for you, or this could be dripping with sarcasm. P3, sure, but remember who’s seat you’re in.

Oliver decided to delete the text. There was no trace of it when he handed the phone back to you the next day.

Maybe that was for the best, no one knew.

All you knew was you were starting third today.

All Daniel knew was you had ignored him, and now you were walking right past him down the paddock, side by side with Lando as you talked about today’s race. Daniel turned his head and saw the two of you, drawing his own conclusions.

Whatever was going through his mind, one thing seemed certain. You didn’t need him anymore. You had the seat, the team, someone new supporting you, why would you still need Daniel?

You went about your day, the same pre-race rituals. Lando checked in more than normal, it was an exciting day for both of you, but he knew he was also a good distraction to keep your mind off of Daniel, he knew you would be struggling to keep from thinking about him.

“It’s you and me,” Lando told you right before the race. “It’s our day, yeah? We’ve got this.”

Lando was in your corner. You were in his.

Which meant you were there to celebrate after the race when he took home second place. You had claimed fourth, which was also something to be proud of, and you were, but you were also craving that podium. You could almost taste it, it was so close.

“Next time,” Lando assured you, having full confidence that you’d be holding the trophy at the following race. He handed you a bottle of champagne, telling you to drink up and enjoy and for once, you did.

You were happy. You finally felt like you could accomplish something amazing at McLaren, despite the horrible start. Lando had gotten a podium, yours was coming, you could feel it.

You didn’t think about Daniel at all that night. It was the first night in a long time where you didn’t see his face when you closed your eyes.

And you would have loved to keep celebrating after that night, to keep the high of Lando's podium and your 4th place finish last until the next race, but all good things must come to an end.

You stood in front of Lando now, unsure how to take the news about Daniels’ return. Were you allowed to be happy for him? Of course you wanted to see him in a seat, this was the ideal situation, both of you driving this season. What would this mean for the two of you moving forward?

But he had done the exact same thing you had done by replacing a driver before their contract was up.

Daniel made you feel awful about that decision and now here he was, making the exact same one. He was no better than you. He was no hero, he wasn’t the good guy. He was a driver, desperate for a seat, as were you. As was every single person wanting to race in this series.

You were on the same playing field now.

He was going to be at every single race for the rest of the season, as a competitor on the grid. Something you once dreamt of, both of you dreamt of, was finally coming true.

But that’s all he would be. A competitor. Another driver. Another car to overtake. You always thought that when this moment came, you’d still be a team when you left the track at the end of the day and that just wasn’t the reality you found yourself in.

“He’s back,” Lando said, hands shoved in his pockets trying to gauge your reaction.

Daniel was returning to Formula 1, but you knew he was never actually gone in the first place.

He was in your thoughts, your dreams, your memories, he was everywhere all of the time. Even when you crossed the finish line in Silverstone, there was still a part of you that was wondering if Daniel was watching. As much as you tried to avoid him, your eyes still scanned every single crowd for him.

And now you didn’t need to look anymore.

part 3 gone

----

taglist: @yunnie-f1 @torossosebs @whatthefuckerr @jspitwall @oconso @tsarinablogs @landowecanbewc @somanyfandomsbruh @christianpulisic10 @storminacloud @sunnytkm23 @formula1mount @azxulaa @icarus-nex @spideyspeaches if i forgot someone im so sorry

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #danny ric #dr3 #f1 fics #formula 1 x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo au

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nightsmarish · 1 month

Note

Hello luv <3 could you possibly write a prongsfoot or wolfstar x reader and they take her to get a new piercing?? maybe they accidentally keep hitting or helping her clean it and stuff :)))

Poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader (James Potter x fem!reader x Sirius black) | 900+ words

A/n: first of all: omg, my first rq, very very happy, thank you so much babes <3. Second: I am on a piercing ban rn and I am dying for the ban to break so this made me sooooo jealous

T/w: reader is suggested to have multiple ear peircings, needles, still learning to write James, Sirius works in a bar

★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊★⋆｡

"What if this is a bad idea?" You haven't even gotten out of the car and into the building when you start second guessing yourself.

"Love, you've wanted this for a while, I thought?" James is getting out of the backseat and opening your door on the passenger side.

"I do, but it's my first face peircing, what if it looks bad?" James kneels next to your seat in the car while you fiddle with your hands, eyes focused on them, rather than the worry on James' face that will undoubtedly make you melt.

"Doll, you're gonna look hot as fuck, I promise you that much." Sirius turns in the driver's seat to face you, left hand moving to the back of your head, stroking the nape of your neck. "And either way, if you get it and, after a few months, hate it, you can take it out."

You all sit there for a moment before you stop fidgeting and look between the two boys. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm freaking out now, ive been planning this for weeks now." You laugh, trying to ease the tension that's accidently set.

"It's okay, love." James gently grabs your face, turning you to face him and kissing you softly. "You still wanna get it?"

"Yeah, I do."

ᯓ★

You all manage to get through the door of the peircing shop.

You sit in the chair, Sirius holding your hand and James looking away because needles freak him out, but he was adamant he would be a form of moral support.

The piercer uses the forcep clamp and you're pretty sure the needle is in their other hand, but you've had your eyes closed for a while now. And honestly, based off the videos you watched, it's probably for the best you don't see the needle.

"Okay, breath in through your mouth." Their voice is soothing as you take in a breath, albeit a little shaky.

"And a deep breath out..." your hand forms a death grip on Sirius' hand as the needle punctures your nose.

"Good job. I'm going to put the jewelry in now; one more deep breath in." Your hand keeps its hold on Sirius, "and out." The jewelry swiftly replaces the needle. "Okay, and you're done."

While paying and leaving, your hand never leaves the boy until you reach the car.

"Let me see." James once again gently grabs your face once the three of you are near the car. "Dear Merlin, that looks amazing."

"Yes it does, and you took it like a bloody champ, doll." The other boy adds.

"Yeah? It looks good?"

"Obviously." He overlaps one of James hand and leans in to kiss you.

"Wait- no- no kisses right now." Both boys drop their hands from your face.

"Are you okay?" James brows are furrowed in concern.

"I'm- I'm just scared you'll hit it and it will hurt."

The paler of the two laughs a bit but looks at you so fondly you could melt into a puddle like the wicked witch of the west. "Fine- fine then. No kisses. For now."

ᯓ★

You're sitting on the couch when James gets home a few days later, book open as you read.

James toes off his shoes and walks behind the couch, tilting your chin to lean down and kiss you.

You instinctively let him, used to the little routine the three of you have. But dear fuck, you didn't consider how much it would hurt for his nose to hit your very sore one during a kiss.

"Fucking-" You pull back, hand going to your nose to shield it as if some invisible source is gonna sucker punch you.

"Shit- sorry, love, I didn't even think about your new piercing." James rounds the couch to sit next to you, putting your book face down on the coffee table to keep your place.

"It's okay, Jamie, really." You move your hand away and rake your nails through his hair.

"'M sorry anyway." He leans in again, this time kissing your hairline instead of your cheek.

Sirius had been up in the bedroom, having a night shift at the bar he worked at, so he was sleeping most of the day. But his shift starts in an hour, and he wants to at least see you two before he has to see drunk people for 8 hours.

Padding down the staircase in your townhouse, Sirius sees you and James on the couch, you with tears lining your eyes.

"Bloody Merlin, baby, don't try and kill the girl, prongs." Sirius jokes as he makes his way to the couch as well.

"I didn't do anything!" James whips his head around to Sirius, who cuts him off with a kiss before he can continue to defend himself any further.

"He kissed me and it hurt like a bitch." Your voice is slightly whinny, desperately wanting your shorter boyfriends attention.

"Oh, my poor girl, James is hurting you with his love again?" Sirius coos as he sits between you two, but it's more like on both your laps, grabbing the sides of your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I said sorry!" He attempts to defend himself again, "I didn't mean to."

"Sounds like it was an accident, huh, doll?" Sirius speaks in-between kisses on your face.

"Seems so." You murmur.

"Either way, seems only James can properly kiss me now." He grins at you before grabbing James' face, more aggressively than needed, and smashing their lips together.

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rawritzrobin · 1 month

Text

The Waynes: Chapter 9

Title: The Waynes

Pairing: Mobster!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Some roughhousing. Nothing too crazy.

Summary: You attend the gala. Your relationship becomes public. Everything was going great, until you catch the eyes of a certain man.

A/N: I know, its been forever. I'm still working on this. The days are just getting harder to get through. But ill make it. (:

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added!): @msghostface @khaylin27 @thequeenofbigmacs @escapism-r-us @orighami @neobreakmyback @bubbles-incorrect-yb @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog @attllas @comic-cat83 @mommyneytiri @aerangi @thegreawizards @baebeepeach @slitheringss @xoxoyourdoll @portrait-ninja @sunflowertardis @anime-lover-forever-1127 @wrldwidemind @dopedreamobject @jayroytodd @vanessa-boo @ih4temy5elfs0b4d @solivagantlife @killerwendigo @deimks @writing-over-ashes

Chapter 9: Target Acquired

You couldn’t stop fidgeting in your seat. You have never been so nervous in your entire life. The dress you picked out was suddenly feeling super tight and uncomfortable, even though Jason had it tailored to fit you like a glove. It was a crimson red gown, with a pair of off shoulder straps that flowed gently down the side of your shoulder. You had never worn anything like this before. The store you went to didn’t even have prices on their items.

You could either afford their stuff, or you couldn’t.

Jason prepaid for everything, so you weren’t able to see the total for the dress and the shoes he had picked out for you. You knew one thing, it probably cost more than a year of rent based on the clientele you saw in the store.

You glanced over at Jason who had been on his phone for most of the night. He gave you the heads up work was going to be a bit crazier this month and that he would be semi distracted most of the time. You understood. He still tried to give you as much undivided attention as he could with you. You appreciated that.

You look out the window at the large buildings of Gotham that raced by you. The gala was taking place within Wayne Manor. You had never been to this part of Gotham before. Never really left the city. The buildings slowly started to be replaced with rows of trees. Soon, you were at the gates, your driver checking in with security.

“Nervous?” Jason asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned around to face him. His full attention was on you now, his phone face down on his thigh.

“A little.” You admitted. You had never been to a gala before. Let alone a gala hosted by one of the richest men in the world at his own home. You stuck out like a sore thumb at the clothing store. You were sure the rich and powerful of Gotham would notice when lesser being was among them.

“What if I don’t fit in?” You say as you look down at your lap.

Jason took one of your hands and brought it up to his lips. He peppered soft kisses from your fingers up to your wrist. You blushed. Jason was a magician with his lips.

“You’ll be the most beautiful girl there.” He said with a grin. “Those Gotham socialites have nothing on you doll.”

Your nervousness lessened as you focused your attention on Jason’s soft touches. He had let go of your hand and placed it onto your thigh, squeezing it with reassurance. His attention turned right as you felt the car come to a stop. You looked out the window and saw the entrance to Wayne Manor in front of you.

One of the butlers opened the door for you. Jason stepped out first, and turned around to offer his hand. You took it, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. As soon as you left the car, thousands of camera flashes went off. It all came so suddenly, so you closed your eyes. Stars flooded your vision, even with your eyes closed. You felt Jason’s arm wrap around your waist and lead you forward. You opened your eyes slightly as you both made your way up the red carpet that lined the floor to the entrance of the manor.

“Sorry.” He said as he kept moving forward, away from the paparazzi. “I should have warned you. Those people are like vultures.” Jason knew that at least one of those photos was bound to make the front page. Once they find out that he was in a real relationship with Y/N. They would be the talk of the century. “Jason Todd, reckless Wayne heir, dating mystery girl.” At least now they would have a better excuse as to why Y/N would need a driver and a personal bodyguard.

Once you made it through the front door, your vision cleared up. In front of you was the most beautiful entrance you have ever seen. You had seen pictures of Wayne manor, with its beautiful architecture, in magazine articles. But those pictures had not done the home justice. It was beautifully decorated with thousands of flowers. It was only one month away from the holidays, so there were a bunch of what looked like elegant Christmas decorations strung around the foyer.

Everyone around you was dress to the nines. You caught the attention of a few older gentlemen as you and Jason made your way into the main ballroom. Jason didn’t miss those longing stares from those old creeps. He pulled you closer next to him and kept his hand on your waist as you two walked forward. But not before sending death glares to any and all men that looked at you for longer than a second.

Jason had a reputation. Everyone knew about his anger problems. Ever since he was little, he was in and out of the principal's office for starting fights. That reputation carried on into his adulthood as he was known to throw punches when the paparazzi got too close.

You were soon walking through the doors that opened up to the ballroom. You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop as you saw the beautiful ballroom. You mentally pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

The theme was white winter. The snow outside had not yet stuck, the fake snow within the ballroom looked so real. Hundreds of wealthy men and women gathered around. Some were already on the dance floor, elegantly doing the waltz. Others were mingling with each other, champagne in hand. You quickly noticed, almost all the attention in the room turned towards Jason whenever he made his way through the crowd. Standing at 6’4, he was one of the largest men in the room, especially given his stature. Charles trailed behind you, making sure no one bothered you two.

“Jaybird!” You heard a voice call towards Jason. You scanned through the crowd and saw a happily waving Dick Grayson on the other end of the room. Jason quickly turned towards a different part of the room, as you gave Dick a friendly wave. He laughed at Jason’s reaction, already knowing that Jason would turn away from him. He turned his attention to the woman next to him seeking attention.

You spent the next hour or so walking around meeting people. A few people were brave enough to introduce themselves to you. Most merely admired you two from a distance. Everyone was curious who you were. It was not everyday Jason Todd brought his girlfriend to a Wayne Gala. Jason never brought women to these events. This was the first, so it caught everyone's attention.

After eating a bit of food from the buffet, Jason took your hand and led you to another direction.

Jason made his way towards the bar, leading you through the crowds of well dressed people. As soon as he made his way towards the bar, he gestured to the seat in front of him. You took a seat, and he stood behind you, acting like a shield between you and the people around.

“The good stuff. Don’t skimp.” He said to the bartender who quickly ran towards you two. The guy smirked and quickly noticed Jason’s protective demeanor.

“Well well Todd. So the rumors are true.” He said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah. I’m sure Roy told the entire world by now.” Jason said in a friendly tone. It was clear he knew this bartender. Jason acted differently around the people he knew. His tone said it all.

The bartender reached out a hand towards you. “I’m Andrew. Jason’s favorite person at any of these parties.” He said. You took his hand and shook it.

“I’m Y/N.” You said. Andrew smiled a friendly smile. One that made you feel safe.

“Some good stuff, coming up!” He said quickly, turning and disappearing into a door behind the bar.

Jason looked around the room, keeping one hand on your waist. His plan was to make sure he was seen with you, say hi to Alfred, knock back as many shots as he could, and head out. The longer he stayed, the more people tried to talk to him. He didn’t want to be here long enough for people to gain liquid courage from the free drinks.

As soon as Jason finished scanning the room, a voice broke through the crowd.

“Master Jason. So glad you and Y/N could make it.” Alfred said, Jason quickly turned around to see Alfred standing behind him. “It’s been a while since you attended one of these.” He said, a slight sense of joking in his voice.

Alfred turned his attention to you, and you put your arm out. “Nice to see you again Alfred.” You said with a smile. You had only met Alfred a few times, but his name floated around every so often. You knew he was the one who had his hands behind the scenes of Jason’s life.

Alfred took your hand and pressed a quick and polite kiss onto the top of your palm. “The pleasure is all mine. I am so happy you could make it.”

Just then Andrew returned. He made you jump a little as he did announce his return. “Ah Alfred. The man of the hour. Do you want a shot of the good stuff as well?” He asked, two bottles in his arms.

Alfred shook his head and chuckled. “Maybe later Mr. Andrew. I still have many guests to greet.” He turned to look at you once more and smiled. “It was very nice to see you again Ms. Y/N. Please do let me know if you need anything for your new home. Master Jason keeps his hope pretty empty. So let me know if you need something to make it more comfortable.” His comment was most sincere. You could feel a bit of warmth on your cheeks. You had still not gotten used to the fact that Alfred was a butler that took care of the Wayne family.

“Thank you Alfred.” You said with a grateful smile.

You could hear his name being called from a different direction. Alfred quickly bowed, and excused himself as he headed towards the direction his name was called.

Meanwhile, Andrew was in the middle of preparing two different drinks. One was in a champagne glass, which he handed to you. “My lady.” He said.

You took it and thanked him. Just a few moments later he handed Jason what looked like a glass of whiskey with a large ice ball in the middle. Without skipping a beat, Jason finished the glass. You knew he didn’t like social events. The drink was just to help with the nerves.

You took a sip of your drink. It was sweet, with a hint of bitter orange. It was some sort of bubbly champagne. You knew it was some sort of expensive alcohol.

You spent the next few minutes making small talk with Andrew. Jason knocked back more than a few drinks and was finally less tense. You could feel the muscles in his body loosen up as his grip on you soon followed. You understood his fear. You tried your best to help relax his body with a few light touches.

Jason’s phone buzzed a few times. Each time he would try to silence it, but after the fifth straight buzz, he reluctantly unlocked it. You could see him tense up again.

With a huge sigh, he turned to whisper something in your ear. “Sorry doll. Something came up. I have to make a quick phone call outside. Stay here for a bit yeah? It’s a little cold out there for you.”

You looked him in the eyes and nodded. He left after placing a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. As he walked away he met eye contact with Charles, who was standing a few feet away.

You turned your attention back to Andrew as you watched him prepare a medley of cocktails.

You were so immersed by Andrew’s tricks, you didn’t notice a pair of eyes that had been watching you all night. You had caught his eyes as soon as you walked in. That bright red dress that made you his target that night. What caught his eye even more was the man that was with you.

Mario Falcone. One of Falcones sons. One of the more unhinged children of the Falcone family. He always got what he wanted, and would stop at nothing to get it. Even if it meant starting a turf war. One of which he had always wanted to do with the Wayne family. As soon as you stepped into the picture that night, he had his eye on the prize. Even if he knew the prize belonged to a Wayne.

He watched you and Jason close. He knew which one of the men was your body guard. The man stood close and always had his eye trained on you. Just one. The Waynes were slipping, he thought to himself. Just one body guard for such precious cargo? This was going to be easy. He watched you for a while, and as soon as Jason stepped away he made his move.

He whispered into the ear of one of the many girls around him. The girl nodded and went straight toward where Charles was standing. Out of nowhere, the girl pretends to trip, and spills her drink right onto Charles. Mario began to move as he was distracted.

Andrew was in the middle of preparing a flaming cocktail. As he lit up the drink, your eyes did too as you watched the blue flame dance above the orange drink. You felt a pair of arms snake across your waist. You leaned into it, thinking it was Jason. But when a voice that wasn’t his said something into your ear, you jumped.

“Hey beautiful, can I get you a drink?” He asked.

Immediately you hopped off your seat, nearly falling to the floor. But you caught yourself before you fell flat on your butt. The heels weren’t doing anything for you right now. You turned to look at the man you thought was Jason. He was a regular man, dressed nicely in a dark gray suit. His accent you could make out was Italian you thought.

“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” You said as you scanned the room for Jason. When you couldn’t find him you started to look for Charles. You noticed that he now had a bright red stain on the front of his shirt, and a girl was in front of him apologizing. He tried to push past her to get to the bar, but she kept dragging him the other way insisting on helping him clean up the mess she made. She had a few other girls with him, all directing him away from Y/N.

Just as you were about to turn and run towards Charles, you felt a hand grab your wrist. You turned around to pull away from the hand, but he held firm.

“Relax. I don’t bite. Let’s have one drink. Thats all I ask.”

You looked down at your hand, still pulling as hard as you could to get away from this stranger. “No thanks. I have a boyfriend.” You said. Hoping deep inside you that Jason was finished with his call and on his way back.

You turned around and this time met Charles’ eyes. He could see that you were in need of help, but he didn’t want to hurt any of the girls that were currently swarming him. Though after a few seconds, he began to use his brute strength to push them away.

“Y/N!” He called out, pushing through the crowd now. You could see people giving him dirty looks as he pushed through the group of girls surrounding him. He pushed so hard one of them fell on the floor. He didn’t look back.

You pulled towards Charles as he made his way towards you. As fast as the encounter had started, it ended just as quick. Charles was now gripping Mario’s wrist. It didn’t take much of Charles’ strength to get Mario to let go. Mario hissed in pain and took a step back as his men started to surround him. The room around them went silent as everyone knew who the two parties were.

Out of nowhere, Dick jumped in between Charles and Mario. “Hey now! Let’s not let this bring us down. Common! The music is playing, let's all hit the dance floor!” He said pushing Charles towards you as he tried to separate everyone before things escalated. You didn't even get a chance to turn back as you felt a tiny pair of hands take your hand. Damian grabbed your hand and started to lead you out of the ballroom. You quickly followed him down another set of halls past the door you had entered through. You turned around to see Charles following you both, his arms tucked into his jacket pocket. Behind him you noticed Step and Tim, who followed closely behind Charles.

Tim sped up to match Damian’s pace. “Steph is going to go find Jason. Let’s take her upstairs.” He said loud enough for you to barely hear.

Damian nodded, and kept dragging you forward. Charles turned around, and caught up with you. “Apologies Ms. Y/N. I am afraid those girls were in on it.” He said, shaking his head in disappointment. He should have seen it coming.

The four of you rounded a corner, and were soon met with a set of stairs. Damian let go of your hand, and went up the stairs. Tim stopped, and gestured up, letting you go up before him. He followed closely behind Charles.

After a few moments, Damian stopped in front of a large pair of doors. He pushed them open and the room lit up. It was a library. It was twice the size of Jasons. You were too confused to be excited about the sheer number of books inside these walls. You followed Damian inside, where he pointed to one of the large couches in the room. “Sit. Todd should be here soon.”

You took a seat, and looked around the large library. The fireplace tucked in the back was one of the largest fireplaces you had ever seen in your life. It looked like it could heat this whole house on its own. You felt Charles take a seat next to you. “Did he hurt you?” Charles asked nervously.

You looked up at him and shook your head. “No. Annoyed me is more like it.” You said nonchalantly not realizing who he just rescued you from. Charles let out a breath of relief, and stood up to guard the door. Tim took a seat on one of the couches across from you and pulled out his phone. “They’re coming.” He said to Damian. He turned to Charles who was still at the door. “Jason said get the car ready.” Charles nodded, and stepped through the large doors, closing it quietly behind him.

“Who was that guy?” You asked. Confused. Everyone in the room around you seemed to know who he was, except you.

“No one you need to worry about.” Tim said. “Just some creep.” You could sense their was a hint of hesitation in his voice. But you shrugged it off and went back to admiring the beautiful room you were in. You stood up from your seat, and started to read the names of the books around you. Damian watched you. His gaze going from you to the door.

After about 10 minutes, the door swung open, and an angry, but also worried Jason stepped through the door. Once he made eye contact with you, he rushed towards you and hugged you close.

“Sorry I was gone for so long. Something came up, so we are leaving.” He said. You nodded. You have had enough action for one night. You put the book you were looking at back on the shelf and followed Jason towards the door. Jason grabbed your hand and led you down the hall. He led you down a different set of hallways, away from the entrance it seemed. The manor was huge, and you would certainly get lost within its walls. At least Jason knew where he was going. He stopped in front of what looked like an elevator, and pressed it. The door opened to reveal none other than Bruce Wayne. Bruce stepped out of the elevator.

Jason didn’t even want to look him in the eyes right now. “Are you happy now? They know.” Was all he said before he pushed past Bruce and practically dragged you into the elevator.

The doors closed on a confused looking Bruce, and you two started to descend.

You could feel the tension in the elevator radiating off Jason. You shivered as the adrenaline was wearing off and you noticed it was freezing in the elevator. You moved closer to Jason and wrapped an arm around his waist. Jason instinctively shrugged off his jacket, and wrapped it around your shoulders. He rubbed your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him.

“Charles should be down with the car. I’m sorry we have to leave so early. I know you were having fun.” He said sadly.

“It’s okay! You said voice with relief. It was nice to see everyone tonight. Even if that creep did ruin the night.” You saw Jason’s jaw clench at the mention of the man. But he said nothing of it.

The elevator dinged and you stepped out into a large carport. Dozens of fancy cars surrounded a small driveway. A familiar car stood waiting for you two. Charles had the back door open, and helped you get in as Jason went in the other side.

The drive was quiet. Jason kept his arms around you as always. You could tell he was calculating something in his head. You wondered what came up that was so urgent you had to leave the gala without saying goodbye to Alfred.

As soon as you arrived home, you noticed a few more black SUV’s in the parking lot. You knew they all belonged to the Waynes as they had the signature Wayne family crest on their cars. The car came to a stop and soon the door on your side opened. You started to get out, but Jason’s grip on you tightend for a second. You turned around to face him.

He looked at you sadly. “You go up first tonight okay? I have some quick business at The Cave and then ill be back in a couple hours. Charles is coming with me, but I have some of my men here tonight to stand guard. Just in case.”

You were slightly concerned, but said nothing of it. You merely nodded, and leaned forward to kiss him. You stepped out of the car and he rolled down the window. “Go straight up and lock up. I’ll bring back some snacks and we can watch something before bed.”

“Sounds good.” You said cheerfully. “Love you Jay. Please be safe.”

Jason smiled back at you. “I will doll.” He said and blew a kiss towards you. “Be back in a jif.” He said as the car pulled away. You noticed there were several men in the parking lot with you. Some of which you recognized from The Cave. You scanned the necklace that contained the code to open the elevator, and the doors opened. One of the men followed you in, but the rest stayed behind.

“Would you like me to help you with anything?” The man asked.

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I think I am just going to take a shower.” You said as you made your way down the hallway. The man nodded, and stayed near the entrance of the penthouse. He turned to face the elevator door.

You made your way to the bedroom to pick out some sleeping clothes. You quickly decided that you would need to take a bath to soak your aching feet. You never wore heels, so being in such tall heels did a number on your feet. You sat in the tub for a while, looking out into the city. Thousands of lights shone brightly against the window.

You were once one of those tiny specs of light. Looking up at the tall buildings wondering how the other half lived.

This was your life now. Paparazzi, fancy galas, body guards. Every day you wondered if this was a continuation of a dream you never woke up from.

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daytaker · 4 months

Note

i have come back with more questionable mc behaviours as a treat

mc who’s a LeVeyan satanist, that or another idea of a similar variety which is when mc gets teleported they were wearing a “hail satan” shirt

also i loved the creepy scientist like mc (๑>◡<๑) - clown anon

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

I want to own a Sheep MC plush that wears a Hail Satan shirt. I want that to be among my possessions when I die.

That out of the way...

(cw: references to drug use, references to sex, this is the church of satan. sex drugs and rock n roll. this gets extremely silly towards the end.)

Satanists Don't Believe in Satan

You were vibing to Eurythmics, sitting cross-legged in your bedroom and trying to meditate while your Snake, Dr. Faust, wound his way around your arm. And then, suddenly, you weren't. The shag carpet was replaced by a hard wood floor, and the warmth of your bedroom was replaced by the cool draft of a large assembly hall with windows. And some punks in military academy uniforms were scowling at you.

"What the fuck? What gives?" You were really confused. Did you already hit the acid and you're so high you forgot? You stood up and looked down at yourself. You were still wearing your CoS shirt and pink pajama shorts, and you still had on your fluffy slippers.

"Welcome, uhhh...." A big guy in red squinted at a piece of paper, then looked at me. "Is your name actually Omen LeVey?"

"That's what it says on my driver's license, bitch." Dr. Faust wound his way up your arm and into your shirt. He clearly didn't appreciate the change in temperature either.

"It's not too late to swap them for someone else, is it?" whispered a dark haired man to Big Red.

Big Red ignored him. "Welcome, Omen, to the Devildom! I'm sure you're very confused, but everything will make sense soon. You have been chosen to participate in an exchange--"

"Where do you think you're going?" The dark haired bitch cut off Big Red as I walked to the door.

I turned around. "Uh, out?"

"Out where, exactly?" asked the bitchy one.

"Out of here? I'm not sitting around waiting for you to go through some sort of timeshare presentation with me. However I got here, I'm sure I'm high as fuck, and I'm not going to spend my time high as fuck getting talked at by this dude. No offense, Red."

Ten minutes later, you were tied to a chair in the middle of the assembly hall. Big Red, the bitch, and three other guys stood around you, unsure what to do.

"Is this, like, an ex of yours or something, Satan?" one of the extras asked another. They were both twinks, and they were also both quiet up to this point, so you couldn't really think of how to differentiate them on the fly.

"No? What are you talking about?"

"Their shirt!"

All five guys stared at your graphic tee, which was black with white splatter text that read:

"CHURCH OF SATAN "DO WHAT THOU WILT SHALL BE THE WHOLE OF THE LAW" - SATAN PROBABLY"

"I can't believe Satan has an entire church dedicated to him! I wonder if there are churches to me," Twink 1 said with a sigh.

"That's not a church dedicated to me," replied Twink 2. "Their entire doctrine is a repudiation of my very existence. You should educate yourself, Asmodeus."

"Helloooo? Excuse me?" You wobbled in your seat, trying to get their attention. "Since I don't have any choice but to listen, I'll allow you to go ahead and tell me what the fuck is going on."

Big Red sighed at began to explain again. "You've arrived here in the Devildom as an exchange student from the human world. For the next year, you will be living here in the Devildom with us demons, attending the Royal Academy of Diavolo, or "RAD", we we tend to call it."

"...Okay, so clearly this is a bad trip, so I'm gonna politely ask if we can skip to the part where I'm finished having sex with my downstairs neighbors and I turn into a ball of energy? Like. C'mon. Chop chop."

"I am Diavolo, acting lord of the Devildom. And this is Lucifer, my right-hand demon and confidant." He gestured to the bitchy one.

"Charmed," you said in a voice saturated with sarcasm. "What about those three?"

"Ah," Diavolo said, nodding. "Those are Asmodeus, Satan, and Beelzebub. They are Lucifer's brothers."

"This is so wild. So Satan and Lucifer aren't the same dude?"

"Careful what you say," said Twink 1--or Asmodeus, as you now knew him to be. "You'll make Satan angry!"

"Sorry bro. Look look look, though, I'm in your fan club." You hope your shirt with Satan's name on it will butter that one up--Satan is Twink 2, as it turns out; a skinny blonde kid with a yellow bow tie. You aren't sure how to feel about that, exactly. You'd always pictured him as a cartoon goat-man, more or less.

"Do you really think you can butter me up by claiming that the Church of Satan is my fan club?" He scowled at you, looking indignant. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I'm aware of what your so-called 'church' teaches, and while I'm not opposed to the ideology in a broad sense, I can't support a group that considers my very existence to be a joke."

"Hey, hey, it's not a joke," you said soothingly. "You're just the theological equivalent to the Queen of Engand. Powerless, probably fake, definitely dead, but you look good on merchandise."

"Do you want to die?"

"Sometimes."

"Omen, you will be living with these four and two of their brothers for the next year." Diavolo smiled at you, apparently choosing to ignore every word you've spoken.

All four of the brothers looked crestfallen.

"Oh, yeah, I feel real fuckin' welcome. Roll out the wagon, why don't ya?"

"Is your name actually Omen LeVey?" asked Big Red again in a murmur, looking at his sheet with as mystified an expression as ever.

Dr. Faust, still coiled around your arm, peeked out at the world again and flicked his tongue. Asmodeus screamed, and Lucifer pointed at you and demanded, "Diavolo, swap it for a different one!"

---

Epilogue.

Eight months later, you and Satan marry. Dr. Faust officiates. Together, you have three children, all of whom refuse to acknowledge their fathers' objective existence.

#ask response #obey me #obey me satan #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #satan #diavolo #lucifer #mc #satanist mc #this is my oc omen levey (do not steal)#crack #fanfic #clown anon #satan x satanist mc #what am i doing with my life #clown anon's mcs are the best mcs #fmk clowncore mc science geek mc satanist mc go #f satanist m science geek k clowncore personally

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jacksprostate · 4 months

Text

Tyler is hopping around on his pogo stick again. When he lands, it's with a mushy thump as he sinks into the rotting floorboards. Sometimes he gets stuck and just tips over instead of bouncing back up. It makes him stumble and jump ship. Moment of perfection ruined.

I need to renew my driver's license, I say.

"What are you telling me for?"

Thud.

If Tyler's bed had a backboard, this is how it would sound before he and Marla pounded through to the next room.

I am Jack's throat of bile.

"Fine," Tyler says. "We'll go."

I do not say, we? Questioning Tyler is an amateur move I've managed to avoid for two months now.

Getting to the DMV takes three buses and a thirty minute walk. Presumably, they've decided you'll be driving there. Sometimes I think about the Audi I had before my Dakapo halogen torchiere speared it. One of Zeus' modern day lightning bolts, making sure the debris from my exploded condo totaled my car.

I could've gotten the windshield replaced. Somewhere, in a junkyard filled with unloved 50s salvage, there's the crushed up cube remains of this year's luxury sedan.

Tyler spends the entire time walking one half step behind me, making me lead him around. It makes me feel blind, like I'm a thirty year old boy still trying to get his father to take him places. I am the world's most easily played instrument. Whenever I look back he's grinning, chipped teeth and split lips.

It's a Saturday and we've arrived two hours or so after opening. This means that when I get my ticket stub, it reads an obscenely high number. I will be sitting here for the next six hours. Give or take.

The thing about seating in a government building is they know you have no choice to be there for at least two hours, if you're lucky. Naturally, the chairs are cheap, yawning plastic bolted into the floor at a height most optimal for slightly tall seven year olds.

Tyler and I toss ourselves into the only two person gap we can find, between a large man giving Bob a run for his money on hormone reversal and a frail woman in her eighties. Both look like I'd see them on a weeknight. I wonder if this is where Marla lurks in the time between when she's fucking Tyler and fucking up my support groups.

"You don't need this shit," Tyler says.

He's slouching into the chair, arms crossed and legs long and in the way. If I were to look where his shirt is rucked up, I'd see his skin disappear into the dark gap between his chiseled hip and the beige slacks he puts on when he pretends he's pretending to be a nice person. It's an obvious farce, since he hasn't even bothered to put underwear on.

This is one of those things that I try not to think too hard about, but I have something like four hundred minutes left to wait around here. I should've brought a few National Geographics.

I need a driver's license for my job, Tyler, I say. The old woman gives me a look.

"Christ." Tyler spits on the floor. I try not to be jealous. My seat neighbor, she gets right up and goes to the other end of the building. "Just roll over, why don't you."

I can tell, this will be a lesson. He gets this huge sureness about himself, like his dick is so big it's slapped his face into that smug false contemplation.

I need some kind of ID, Tyler.

Tyler says, "No you don't. Your bank already has you by the balls with your social security number. You ride the bus around. You're at the airport so often the airline staff recognize you. You only drive when work sends you to a small town, which happens fuck all three times a year. Tell me, you get a good fake, you think the overworked and underpaid car rental employee writing down your information would notice it unless you crashed his car? You know if that happened it'd be because you did it to kill yourself, so where's the problem?"

You could be a perfect driver and die on the road at any second, I protest.

We're attracting attention. Not Bob shifts around. Our conversation is quiet but unnerving.

Tyler says, "Does it feel nice, signing yourself up like a feedlot steer?"

Fucking hell, Tyler. It's not like anyone wants to do this. No one wants to be here. Not everyone can work three night shifts and have no identity according to the government.

Tyler says, "The only thing stopping you is the little set of rules you've set up for yourself."

What does Tyler know about my ability to do things?

"More than you," Tyler says. "You didn't think you could fight. You didn't think you could live without your perfect IKEA nest."

He's right. I still want to kick him to the floor and introduce his teeth to the tile. I notice, Not Bob has cleared the area. Retreat to safety. Bomb detonation in five, four. We've got a three seat berth on each side with people standing packed against the walls of the place.

A lone security guard floats our way.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

It's not the way that the men at fight club have started calling me sir. The security guard is looking at me like he knows about my condo blowing up, and he feels awfully sure about the cause.

I need to renew my driver's license.

Tyler says, "If we pay taxes for this building, these workers, doesn't that mean we pay your salary? You're going to kick out your kindest boss?"

"If you don't leave, I'll have to call the police."

Tyler says, "Can't even do it yourself?"

I think, every second of this day has been excruciating, and I have been awake for 77 hours.

Tyler socks the security guard right in the jaw, and the crowd goes wild.

It happens like this: Tyler hits the security guard with all four knuckles, all the people start screaming, and the security guard goes for his gun. I am standing in the middle of this hurricane, calm like a baby that's just been left in the car in 90 degree weather. I start walking.

Behind me, Tyler wrestles for the gun. He tosses it towards the kiosk that spat out my waiting ticket. He lets the security guard hit him in the gut. The face. The face again. He's on the ground, bloody spit threading his rebroken smile, and the security guard is kicking him in the gut. Tyler curls into a ball, the security guard kicks him in the kidneys. This will give Tyler bruises like size thirteen boots and make him piss blood for three weeks.

I reach the door, and Tyler's crawling after me. The security guard has come out of his haze, and now the crowd is staring at him. The headline: local DMV worker brutally bludgeons mentally ill constituent. People stare at him, now aware of the violence he is capable of. They wonder. He wonders.

Tyler limps out the door. We get on the bus and the driver stares at us and does not make us pay when we walk past him to the seats. The driver had a black eye. We saw him at fight club last week.

We sit, and I tell Tyler, because of him I'm definitely on a list now. Like they had for all those communists, but now it's for schizophrenics who might bomb their local state Department of Motor Vehicles location. I tell him if I get a letter saying I have to show up in court because I beat up a government worker, I'm sending him, and he can have fun explaining that to whatever rancid old judge presides over our case.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

#fight club #my writing #this ones a little long actually. one day i'll probably put all these on ao3 #inspired by me recently having to do govt stuff. wasnt this but its what i could think of something coming up 4 the narrator #ftr “chipped teeth and split lips” is where my brain was like. :) done!#like no. theres more to be done here

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nothingelsematterswrites · 28 days

Text

logan IS NOT getting replaced at Imola (and not at Monza either), a CONFIRMED breakdown

that's right logan girlies (gn), Logan is SAFE. He's not going anywhere yet.

James was bailed up by Lawrence Barretto yesterday in the press pen, and was asked explicitly if Antonelli would be in the car at Imola. James straight up said that Antonelli will not be in the car at Imola, and that he is considering drivers for 25 and 26.

Here's the video:

youtube

James was also asked about it in the press conference, and Autosport did a write up of it which you can find here. Importantly:

“I know nothing about what's going on with the Mercedes tests right now,” said Vowles. “We are looking, as everyone else is, for where we want to be on driver line-up for next year. And we have our own young driver programme. “In the case of Kimi. I can't really adjudicate at the level he's at. In case of him coming into the car this year, I've always said from the beginning, it's a meritocracy. “Logan has to earn his seat and at the moment, he has some tough targets where he has to get much closer to Alex. But there is nothing on the radar at the moment for replacing him.”

That's the key point.

Now, the Autosport article also brought up another point. The FIA say they have received a superlicence request for Antonelli. They did not specify what type.

There are two types of superlicences. The one you hear about most commonly is a race superlicence. That's your standard one, need 40 points, etc.

But there is also a practice superlicence. This is what Logan had in 2022, enabling him to run FP1s for Williams while he tried to earn the points for his full superlicence.

It is actually entirely probable that Mercedes have put in this request for an exemption for a practice superlicence for Antonelli so that they can run him in FP1s.

Some of you may not trust James' word, and that's understandable! So, let's hear it from Toto Wolff himself, who was also asked about the rumours, and responded categorically:

"I don't know where this belief comes from that Mercedes was keen on pushing that forward. Kimi needs to concentrate on his F2 campaign and he knows that. "Everything else is just rumours, which continue to spin around and that are factually incorrect. He's an F2 driver for Prema, that is what he's doing, and this is what we're all concentrating on." Wolff stressed that Mercedes would remain careful not to burn Antonelli by promoting him too early, given his rapid rise through the junior series and his lack of experience. "Just 15 months ago, he was in an F4 car," he said. "We have great belief in Kimi, his abilities and also his future. "But there is a trajectory which we need to follow with diligence, rather than trying to dream about jumping from series to series in a way that is certainly not beneficial for him. "I think a champion is not going to be distracted by any of this. But certainly, at least it distracts me because everybody's asking me: 'What about Kimi and driving in Imola? "This is not going to happen. This is not something that Mercedes wants. These rumours have gotten their own spin. Let's do Formula 2. We as a team have lots of other issues to resolve."

So, to summarise: Toto doesn't want it. James doesn't want it. Neither of them are pushing for it. Logan has goals to meet and James is going to give him time and support to do it.

Now, James does say they're evaluating options for 2025, which I'm sure is not what some of you want to hear, but that's his job as the team boss. The market is busy right now, and if others are interested he is wise to listen. But Logan will be one of those options, if he hits the goals James has set him.

#f1blr #f1 #formula one #logan sargeant #kimi antonelli #james vowles #toto wolff #williams racing #mercedes f1 #keep calm and believe in logan #Youtube

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robthegoodfellow · 6 months

Text

May I Find You One December RENAMED Here I Go Again

1: Don't Know Where I'm Going, Sure Know Where I've Been

for @fizzigigsimmer

(caligator, referenced past harringrove, age difference, referenced character death, references to neofascism/evangelicalism)

Billy’d been warned against stopping in Stark County, but when you had to go, you had to go—and anyway, he was running low on gas. And snacks.

And, since he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, it’d be wise to get out, work the rust from his joints a bit.

Glancing around as he filled the tank, the town looked normal enough; your average main drag in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota. Couple sleepy shops, general store, dinky diner—one of those blue lives matter flags hanging limp by the door, vivid polyester garish against all the beige.

Basic shit.

No obvious signs of a place under the iron thumb of a white nationalist evangelical militia, and he was just about to roll the dice on that diner, maybe snag a coffee and a slice of pie, when a police cruiser ambled into view, pulled into the fueling station opposite.

Just his fucking luck.

Billy studied the pump, face schooled a pleasant bland. Marveled at how, even after all these years, his days of tussling with fascist pigs long behind him, the same wolves were stirring in his head. One baring its teeth on a low growl, ready and willing to tear the fucker to shreds, the other poised, still as stone, itching to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.

At fifty years old—fifty plus, but who was counting—he preferred neither option. The meter clicked off, and he watched his hands replace the nozzle, screw on the gas cap.

Even his hands were fucking old. Thicker—blocky knuckles. Veins starting to bulge. Grandpa hands.

Sense memory flashed, suppressed so quick and smooth it left barely a ripple. Wouldn’t do to indulge in fond longing for those gay glory days, for the hands he still missed like phantom limbs, some nights, this aching absence. Not within spitting distance of a patrol car.

Because why test the thought police, right? He could reminisce on youthful love lost when he was back on the highway, heading west.

Good boy, he heard, like Billy had a tin can cupped to his ear, the string trailing off into the fog of time.

So strange what stayed sharp, he mused, rounding the hood, gripping his keys. Behind him, the cruiser door swung open with a creak. Like—despite the photos, it was hard to really conjure the face, hold it steady in his mind. A face through a window in the rain, and more so as the years slid by. But that voice still whispered clear as day—sometimes a Jiminy Cricket, keeping Billy out of trouble, sometimes a little prankster demon, pure trickster.

And the hands. The feel of those hands had never left him, touch embedded in the skin.

He sniffed, ducking his chin, scolding himself. So much for smothering his inner queer.

The door was open, sanctuary of the driver’s seat calling his name, when something drew his attention across the way—some movement, maybe, or shift in the air. Pulling his gaze, against his better judgment, to meet the bored stare of the emerging cop.

His chest—seized, breath caught in tight lungs by a tighter throat. Distantly wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like—crushed in a cold fist.

Because the eyes staring back at him were Steve’s. The furrowed brow above lips pinched in a frown. The lines of his jaw, his nose. Like the rain had stopped and he could see him clear through the pane. Then the lips twisted, a sudden sneer, straight out of senior year.

“Got a problem, pal?”

Billy blinked rapid, took in the flak jacket and badge announcing him as the Sheriff’s stooge, the douchey camo hoodie layered underneath, dark hair slicked back, sides shaved like he’d stepped off the cover of Nazi Vogue.

What the fuck.

“Asked you a question, old man.”

Billy coughed, half a laugh, half choke, and shook his head. Same voice—his voice. Steve’s. Only the tone was all wrong—mean and self-important—more like… like Billy, once upon a time.

Like if his old bratty attitude and Steve’s voice had a baby. That’s what he was hearing right now. Like—

Wrenching his brain back on track, Billy rebooted. Cut him off before the brat could launch another volley.

“Sorry, officer,” he said, and couldn’t help it—the amusement thrumming beneath the words, or more accurately, the unhinged hysteria. “Must be going senile.”

The eyes narrowed—assuming that if he wasn’t in on the joke, he must be the butt of it.

“In fact,” Billy went on, blindly following some instinct, he knew not where. “Think I might be having some heart trouble.”

The cop did not spring to the aid of a needy citizen, but eyed him skeptically. “You smell burnt toast?”

“That’s for a stroke,” Billy corrected, and he’d gone and done it again—only this time a fondness threading the wry mockery. “Heart attack is pain in your arm and whatnot.”

The brat didn’t shoot him dead for perceived disrespect, which was something. Really he just seemed—confused. Baffled. And boy, Billy was right there with him.

This wasn’t Steve, he reminded himself. Wasn’t him. Just a random dead ringer in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota, a likely foot soldier in the brutal local militia.

And Billy should just leave him to it, obviously. Because this wasn’t Steve.

So—bid the doppelganger adieu, get the hell out of dodge. Billy cleared his throat.

“Don’t suppose protect and serve extends to helping some geezer find a place to eat while he rests awhile?”

Now the perplexed indignation was out in force, head tilted so far to the side it was liable to roll off his neck.

Hand to God, Billy thought he’d kicked the death wish long ago—his Y2K resolution—and yet here he was. Still talking, coaxing the neofascist to come closer, chucking all caution to the wind for a pair of pretty, over-familiar eyes.

“C’mon,” he said, and made the smirk self-deprecating. “I make it across the street without keeling over, I’ll buy ya a coffee.”

The brat straightened, something like tolerant intrigue settled in the quirk of his brow. “All right, then, old timer.” As they stepped off the sidewalk: “Don’t expect me to hold your elbow or nothing.”

“Oh, nah,” Billy replied, waving him off. “Dignity won’t allow it.” And then—he winked. Winked at the boogaloo boy. He’d lost his mind. Farewell, sanity. “Name’s Billy.”

No response from the boy in blue until they reached the diner steps. “I’m Gator,” he said, hauling the door open, gruffness at odds with the tinkling bell.

To his credit, Billy didn’t break down into gibbering laughter.

Gator. This asshat wearing Steve’s face, this Duck Dynasty heir apparent—was named Gator.

Way off in Indiana, Steve must’ve been rolling in his grave.

#idk where this came from #idea swamped me in the car this morning #caligator #but also make it angsty harringrove #billy hargrove #gator tillman #more to come?? who knows

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welldonebeca · 9 months

Text

The Triplets (8)

WC: 800+ words Warnings: Tension. Angst. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

What was she going to do?

Sure, now she was filling her tank, but what then?

Was she going to keep driving until it was empty again?

Where would she even go?!

When Dean left... well, he probably had money, right? More money than she had.

He travelled around in his impala, saw places and lived.

It was easy to do that when one didn't have to worry about money.

But... there were ways to make money, right?

Maybe she could do it...

"Oh, my, my," she heard a voice by her side. "Look at what the wind brought in."

She turned around, and froze when she saw a group of four men walking over to her. They were all around her age, and probably drunk by the way they sauntered over to her.

Fucking her.

Lizzie looked at the pump, quickly pulling the nozzle out of her car when she saw it was done, and entered her car before they could be too close.

"Hey, what are you running away from?" one of them rushed faster.

Before he could open any of the doors, she locked them, feeling her heart already thundering in her chest.

"Hey, come on, sweetie," they slurred. "We just wanna talk to you!"

She started the car, but two of them sat on the front, and she couldn't move.

"I'm not into talking right now," she called out, making sure her windows were closed.

They slapped onto the metal.

"Come on," they teased out. "Don't be a stuck up!"

Suddenly, she heard something strange, from aside. A siren.

All four men ran off, scared away by the police, and she rested her head on the seat behind her, grateful for the random interruption.

She hoped the siren would follow them, but it didn’t, and Lizzie jumped up, startled, with a bang at her door.

"Step out of the car, Elizabeth," Beau commanded in his sheriff's voice.

She wanted to bury her face in the concrete.

"Uncle Beau-"

"Now."

She glared at him and then looked at her key in the wheel.

Well. She could-

"If you try to drive off, trust me, Baby is much faster and I will punish you until you can't sit right for a week."

She swallowed down dryly.

Dammit.

"Fine," she grunted.

He moved away from the driver's side, and she opened the door, standing up from the car, and jumped in shock when Ben was quick to come to replace her.

"Get in the car," Dean called from inside Baby.

"Dean," she tried to speak.

Beau put a hand on her back, guiding her down.

"I don't want to hear it," Dean interrupted her. "You are coming home."

Lizzie huffed. Why wouldn't anyone listen to her?!

"Look, I know I made a mistake," she argued, stopping in front of the car. "Well, a bunch of them, alright? I'm trying to own up to them, I'm gonna get out of your hair and you can hate me from afar now."

"What now?" Beau asked behind her.

She covered her face with a hand, tired, as Dean left the car.

"I know you all hate me and want to rip into me, but-"

Suddenly, though, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

She gasped, trying to get off, but dean held a grip on her legs.

“Deaaan!” she whined, hitting his back.

That was humiliating.

He tossed her into the backseat, going in with her as Beau got into the driver's seat.

She hugged her knees as the car started, and looked at the back of uncle Beau's neck.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, honestly.

He breathed in and out.

"All I'm mad about is that you left home with no phone, no bra, no panties and no shoes at nearly midnight," he said simply. "And that's all."

Lizzie exhaled, embarrassed. Yeah, that wasn't her proudest moment.

"What I did-" she tried to speak.

"You did nothing wrong," Dean interrupted her.

She scoffed, and he put a hand on her thigh.

"Maybe something stupid, but not wrong," he assured her. "And we weren't that smart either, we shouldn't have been so childish about everything."

"We all care about you, Lizzie," Beau announced. "And we all... hm... well, we all want you the same way. Which you seem to do too."

She played with the fabric of her hoodie.

"Yeah," she spoke softly.

Dean touched her hand and took it to his hand, kissing her knuckles.

"Isn't it selfish, though?" she asked.

She looked at Dean, and he grinned.

"Only if you didn't care for us," he told her, simply. "If we didn't want to share."

Lizzie perked up.

What now?

The car stopped and they were back home, and she could see her own car parking right behind them.

"Let's get inside," Beau called them. "We got a lot to talk about."

. . .

"The Triplets" was posted on Patreon on January 2023. To read it now before anyone else and read the sequels "The Livestream (Ben x Lizzie)", "patience is a virtue (Dean x Lizzie)" and "the pictures (Beau x Lizzie)", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollins @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515 @afanofmanystuffs @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278 @xoxabs88xox @izbelross @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24

Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @stoneyggirl2 @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl

The Triplets: @ladysparkles78

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

Text

Till Death?

Summary: after six months away, it's time to come back

Previous Part

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

Epilouge

Six months, twenty-six weeks, one hundred eighty-three days. That's how long you had been gone.

That was how much time had passed since you gathered up your son and a few necessary items before loading up your Jeep and driving into the sunset.

It was also the same amount of time that had passed since you saw them.

Sure, it was hard. No one said it would be easy. But over time, you managed to adapt. You traveled the length of the West Coast, and as far east as the Grand Canyon. You'd traveled up to Montana and over to South Dakota in your Jeep.

You'd let your parents keep Nick for a while and spent a week in New York with your cousin and a week on the North Carolina coast with your best friend from college.

You enjoyed your time. But something was missing.

He was missing.

You aren't sure when missing him started, but once it did, you couldn't get the ache out of your chest.

You found yourself wanting to contact him more and more. You had to will yourself not to pick up the phone and call him. To not put your car in the wind and drive back to him.

He had hurt you. You were doing this for you.

But more and more, the hurt began to fade away. It was replaced by a longing, a want to have him with you.

You missed his laugh, his smile. You missed the way he made you feel. The way he cared about you.

He never tried to pressure you to come back. He knew you needed this.

Two weeks ago, you decided that it was time to go back, time to go to him.

You made sure you had everything in order. You even went as far as contacting Phoenix and Bob to make sure he wasn't on deployment. When they confirmed he wasn't, it made everything seem so real.

So, here you were, packing up your Jeep once again.

It would take you about four hours to get back. It would be late when you returned, but you knew that you couldn't put it off any longer.

You took a deep breath before slamming the trunk of your car shut.

You adjusted Nick in his car seat, turned on his iPad, and made sure he had a snack. You gave his seat belt one final check to be safe.

Once you made sure he was secure, you opened your phone and typed out a message.

"I'm coming home."

Three simple words. You hit send before putting the car in drive.

As you pulled away from the Air BnB you'd been staying at, you sighed. A few tears slipped down your cheek. They weren't tears of sadness though, the were happy tears. You knew you were making the right choice.

You stopped along the way for stretch breaks, snacks, fuel, and the bathroom. At each stop, you checked your phone.

He hadn't responded. You hoped he'd gotten your message. Deep down, you knew he had.

You'd just left the rest stop and had about forty-five minutes of driving left. Nick was fast asleep. You turned on the radio and let the pop songs guide you home.

It's late when you pulled up. You killed the engine and lights. You took a deep breath. Maybe you should have called first instead of texting. You sat in the driver's seat and thought for a moment. It's been over six months since you left him. What if he didn't want you anymore. It was a silly thought, really. You knew he did.

You learned a lot about yourself in that time. You became the person you were always meant to be. You found your love for life again. You became a person who could let themselves love and be loved again.

You opened the door to your car and quietly got out.

You carefully lifted Nick out of the car.

You silently made your way up the steps to the porch.

Before you could knock on the door, the porch light flipped on, and the door flung open.

He was still half asleep, but a smile spread across his face when his eyes landed on you.

A beat of silence passed before he opened his mouth and spoke.

"Hi, Honey"

So babes, this is the end. I have loved writing this series and it has been an amazing journey with you. Please feel free to send me an ask if there is anything you want to share about this! I love yall!

Tag List: @pisupsala @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @hecate-steps-on-me @withahappyrefrain @arson-tm @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981 @caitsymichelle13 @lillyrosenight @callsign-hummingbird @inky-sun @writeroutoftime @afterglowsb-tch13 @heyoimjordy @phoenixssugarbaby @hypatia93 @bradshawseresinbabe @je-suis-prest-rachel @teacupsandtopgun @boringusername3 @starlightstories @daggerspare-standingby @utterlyhopeful-fics @talkfastromance4 @fighterpilothoe @t-nd-rfoot @phoenix138 @abaker74 @peppizzathief @gigisimsonmars @emorychase @wannabeschyulersister @greatszu @shawnsblue @tributetomrsniffles @tv-fanatic18 @angelbabyange @sadpetalsstuff @softmullet @cowboybarbie @shewritesfiction13 @sweetlittlegingy @rogersbarnesxx

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roscoehamiltons · 4 months

Text

Silly Season 2024 Predictions

aka predicting how the grid will look for 2025:

red bull: max verstappen, daniel ricciardo

mercedes: george russell, fernando alonso (or alex albon, if fernando remains at aston martin)

ferrari: lewis hamilton(!!!), charles leclerc

mclaren: lando norris, oscar piastri

aston martin: lance stroll, yuki tsunoda (or fernando alonso, if he doesn't go to mercedes)

alpine: esteban ocon, pierre gasly

williams: kimi antonelli, alex albon (or valtteri bottas, if alex goes to mercedes)

visa cash grab rb: liam lawson, sergio perez (or yuki tsunoda, if he doesn't go to aston martin)

sauber: carlos sainz jr, nico hulkenberg

haas: ollie bearman, kevin magnussen (or zhou guanyu, if kevin retires)

thoughts, explanations (and a lot of babbling) under the cut:

red bull: maybe i'm delulu for thinking daniel to red bull will still happen lol but it makes perfect sense on paper-- daniel's already familiar with the team and works well with them, he has support from the higher ups, he's a marketing dream, he has a similar driving style and preference to max...

also i know there have been rumours about alex going to red bull again but i don't think he'll do it in the end.

mercedes: i want it to be fernando that replaces lewis bc it would bring the most chaos and drama lol, but it's also a decision that actually makes sense? swapping a world champion with another world champion, and one that isn't likely to want to stay long term (5-10 years)? i guess this is dependent on how both mercedes and aston do this year but 🙏 pls make it happen lol

alex is my second choice for the seat if fernando doesn’t take it. i started making my predictions before james confirmed that alex was signed to williams for 2025, but even with that news, i still think it's a possibility he could go to mercedes. there's been so many whispers in the press about alex wanting to either leave williams or getting offers from top teams, that i can't help but think that alex is trying to gun for a top seat.. and mercedes is his best choice for a top seat imo. not to mention that james did say that he wouldn't stop alex from leaving if he wanted to, and of course the ties with mercedes that james and williams have... it would be easy for them to do some negotiations and make it happen. also i'm sure that george would put in a good word for alex, if alex was interested.

also some honourable mentions, because there's a lot of possibilities to consider: everyone is talking about kimi antonelli and mercedes and i do think that they're going to try and push him into f1 as soon as they can.. i just don't know if they'll take the risk of putting him in the merc seat right away. i'm really interested to see how he does in f2 either way-- if he's as good as everyone says then the results will speak for themselves. i think esteban is a good option too; he's a solid driver (and underrated imo), and more importantly he has ties to merc and toto. if merc wants a more short term option then carlos is a good choice, though it's more likely he would go to sauber. as for mick, i don't think that he's merc's first (or even second or third) choice for the seat, unfortunately for him and the mick girlies. lastly, this one is a bit random but nico hulkenberg also came to mind as a solid short term option (plus, he's german).

ferrari: still can’t believe lewis is going to be driving for them.

mclaren: no notes, very solid pairing.

aston martin: i think the lineup will stay the same if fernando doesn’t want to move to mercedes. i suppose there’s a chance that the rumours about lance going to wec could be true but we will see.

if fernando does go to mercedes then yuki is probably the most obvious choice as his replacement. i also think it’s in yuki's best interest in the long term to leave the red bull family, and this would probably be the best opportunity to do so.

i was actually initially considering checo as the driver to replace fernando — they have history after all, and checo seems to love the team. however, thinking about it, 2023 really took a hit to his reputation as a driver and I don’t know if aston would want him back anyways? i think checo would absolutely reach out to them though if the seat opens up, i think he’s going to try and stay on the grid if it's possible.

alpine: i think both will stay, but if one was to leave it would probably be este (to mercedes?) rather than pierre. if he were to go then jack doohan would be the likely replacement, maybe victor martins if his results in f2 are good.

williams: like i said earlier, i think mercedes is going to try and get kimi into f1 asap, even if he doesn't win f2, and aside from merc itself, williams is the most likely option for that to happen. alex will stay if he doesn’t get the mercedes seat—the supposed red bull offer doesn't start until 2026 and i don’t think he would break his contract to go to aston or alpine.

as for who would replace alex if he does go to mercedes, i would love for it to be valtteri. i stole this idea from @velvetsainz actually, but the more i think about it, the more i like it... the idea of valtteri and james on the same team again tickles me and valtteri is a fantastic mentor (as evidenced by his relationship with guanyu). also i'm fairly certain that toto is back on valtteri's management team again so i can see toto mentioning valtteri as an option for williams in their negotations for the hypothetical alex to mercedes move. is this likely this is to happen, idk, because valtteri did pick sauber over williams in 2021 for a reason but a girl can dream lol

visa cash grab rb: this one was the one i probably struggled with the most ngl.. i think liam is definitely going to be in f1 in 2025 (and deservedly so) but the question of who's going to be in the other seat.. the three main options would be yuki, checo and daniel (if daniel remains at visa instead of moving up, either checo stays at red bull or yuki is the one getting promoted). i originally had the lineup as yuki and liam (and checo at aston martin) but ended up switching yuki and checo around in the end. if checo does end up retiring at the end of this year and yuki goes off to aston then i'm not sure who would replace him..maybe ayumu iwasa? i looked at their list of juniors and am not really familiar with anyone besides him tbh

sauber: this one pains me because i'm a huge fan of both valtteri and guanyu, and they're actually my favorite pairing, in terms of overall vibes and personality... but i would be (very pleasantly) surprised if they both manage to stay at sauber next year. i think it's a given that carlos is going to go to sauber now that he isn't with ferrari, especially with his ties his dad has to audi. i also think sauber/audi would want to start preparing for 2026 and they would also want a german driver to drive for them, hence nico hulkenberg (plus the rumours that they were interested in hulkenberg last year, but ended up renewing guanyu instead).

there's a chance that one of the current drivers could stay, which in that case it would likely be valtteri (with carlos as his teammate, rather than nico). they could also promote theo pourchaire to f1, but i think it's likely they would stick to established drivers, especially during the first couple of years that audi settle in.

haas: the new haas tp has spoken very highly of ollie and with the amount of free practice sessions they have scheduled for ollie this year, it wouldn't surprise me if they're trying to get him on the grid. i know some people think that kevin might retire after this year, but i think they would like to keep one of the current drivers since the last time they had two new drivers didn't go well 😬. on the chance that kevin does end up retiring, i think guanyu is a good shout for a replacement. it might seem a bit random but he's a consistent driver who rarely crashes and more importantly, brings a lot of money and sponsorship, which haas needs.

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anti-romantico · 8 months

Text

[work trip] the boyz sangyeon

warnings: slow-burn, use of the word "daddy" idk if I should apologize for this one lmao, oral (f receiving), protected sex (I earned a cookie for this), hint of a second round

words: 3571

Working as an assistant wasn’t in your plans when you graduated, but as long as you could pay your bills with the salary without having to get another job, you were more than happy.

And it wasn’t like your boss was terrible or a creep. He was young, didn’t have kids, but always liked to spoil his friend’s, it was like his favorite hobby.

You arrived at your desk 15 minutes before your usual time this morning. You didn’t know your driver was in such a rush, but you preferred to not ask and let him drive while you hold on for dear life.

— You’re early. — Your boss said, walking out of his office.

— My driver must have had something important to do after dropping me off. — You answered. — Good morning, Mr. Lee. — You bowed your head a little.

He softly smiled. — Good morning. Did you receive my email?

— Yes, you wanted to talk to me. — You confirmed.

And even though it wasn’t a question, Sangyeon nodded. — It was going to be later, but considering you still have 10 more minutes of freedom and that I’ll leave earlier. Come to my office, please.

You felt cold sweat all over your body. Did you mention he made you insanely nervous? And you knew the thoughts you sometimes had about him would be firing you in a second.

You sat down on the chair in front of his desk and waited for him to talk. Sangyeon took off his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and sat down on his own chair.

— Do you want water? — He suddenly asked. And you didn’t know if it was the nervousness, but you sensed a hint of mockery in his tone.

— No, thank you, Mr. Lee. — You said, looking away.

You heard him scoff. — Well, I wanted to talk to you because we received an invitation to an investors meeting in Gangmun. And although it will only be 3 meetings, it’s going to be a whole week. You can pack some swimsuits if you want. We are leaving on Friday.

And Friday arrived too fast for your liking. The organizers of this trip made sure his future investors traveled comfortably because your seats were first class and the hotel was 5 stars.

Your room and Sanyeon’s were next to each other, and while you were unpacking, someone knocked on your door.

— Hi, I just got a call. Our first meeting is tomorrow morning, so that means you have the whole day free. — You nodded. — Oh. These were in my room, to let the hotel staff know you’re here as part of the trip. Pretty sure you’ll have courtesies. — Sangyeon grabbed your left arm and put on the white plastic bracelet. — And you have only one more replacement, so be careful. — He let it go.

— Thanks. So am I free to do anything today? — You asked, already making plans.

— I mean, yes, just don’t go to sleep late, the meeting is at 11am, right after breakfast. — You giggled, he was using the same tone he used with his friend’s kids.

— Right, thank you, Mr. Lee. — You smiled and waited for him to leave.

The next morning, you got up and took a bath. You were getting dressed when you released how hungry you were. You were almost ready when Sangyeon knocked on your door.

— Slept well? — Was the first thing he asked when you opened your door.

— Yes, thank you, Mr. Lee. You too? — You asked, closing your door, making sure it was locked.

— You can say that. I always have a difficult time sleeping the first night outside my home.

— That happened to me once, I just asked for more pillows. — You said. He called the elevator and nodded.

Breakfast was quiet. The restaurant was full of businessmen, and some even looked at both of you from time to time. None of them came accompanied by their assistant? You wanted to ask Sanyeon about it, but he was too immersed in his phone.

— Aren't you going to order, Mr. Lee? — You took him out of his thoughts.

— I only ordered a coffee, [Y/N], I'm not that hungry. — Sangyeon put away his phone and gave you his whole attention.

After his coffee and your fruit salad arrived, you casually talked about your plans for the next day. Not noticing everyone's eyes were on you two.

Not even in the meeting room you noticed the businessmen gossiping around, you just assumed they were talking about, well, business.

The next day finally arrived, and room service was like your alarm to get off the bed.

"Courtesy from the house" the bellman said.

You sent Sangyeon a message to tell him you were having your breakfast in your room and that it would be ok for him to join, but he rejected the offer saying he was already having breakfast with some colleague at the restaurant.

After finishing, you grabbed one of the bikinis you packed and got ready to enjoy the pool.

— Hi! — A voice called your attention when you were looking for your sunglasses.

A guy with black hair and tattoos was right in front of you.

— Hi.

— I wasn't sure if you were the lady from the meeting room. I'm Kevin.

— [Y/N]. — You gazed over him, watching him sit down on the chair beside yours. — Are you an investor?

— I'm one of the organizers, actually. — You slightly panicked. — I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but you didn't seem to have a moment away from Mr. Lee.

— Yeah, he often forgets small but important details and I have to remind him.

— Oh, so you're his assistant? — Kevin sounded genuinely surprised.

— I am, is there a problem?

— No, I think it's smart of him to bring his assistant. Most of these men think they know everything and often humiliate themselves.

— Tell me about it, in all the work trips I've been since I started to work for Mr. Lee, at least one man interrupts the head of the investors and ends up being kicked out of the meeting.

— Oh I've seen it happen, it's really funny. Anyways, didn't mean to interrupt your free day, but let me take you for a drink or two. How about your next free day?

— The day after tomorrow?

— Sure, I know those meetings can be exhausting, can't imagine how tired you end up. So, is it ok for you?

— Yeah, let me know the time.

You watched Kevin leave and finally got into the pool when he was out of your sight.

And he was right about the meetings. Businessmen always liked to show off their intelligence, thinking they knew more than the rest. Sangyeon would look at you from time to time, to make sure you weren't too tired.

— I can excuse you if you want to leave. — He whispered in your ear. You swallowed hard.

— And miss this? No way. — You whispered back, making him giggle.

Your eyes then were caught by Kevin's, he was giving you a teasing look that left you feeling uneasy.

The next night, you dressed casually and went to the bar of the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you met Sangyeon and the colleague he had breakfast with the other day.

— Going somewhere special? — Sangyeon arched his brow when he saw how well dressed you were.

— Yeah, going to the bar, a friend invited me. — You didn't exactly want to tell him that one of the organizers invited you.

— That's great, have a good time, just don't forget…

— We have the last meeting tomorrow, I know. I won't come back late. — Sangyeon smiled and let you go.

— How long have you been working with Mr. Lee. — Kevin asked, already three drinks in.

You sighed. — Two years, but I started in the archive until he realized I was acting like his assistant so he decided to hire me as such.

— Nice, starting from the bottom… — You laughed and nodded. — I'm going to say this before I get too drunk. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable.

— Why would you?

— Just me and my thoughts. They like to assume things. — You finished your drink and waited for him to talk. — I just thought you were either the wife or the affair.

And fortunately you already swallowed your drink before he said those words because you would've choked.

— Why would you think that?

— I mean, he brought you. Investors usually come alone.

— What do you mean?

— We only sent one invitation. Not saying he has done it in the past, everyone does things differently, but in this case, we only invited him and he asked for permission to bring someone, all expenses on him, of course.

You couldn't believe him. What if this wasn't the first time?

After getting another drink and changing topics, you two decided it was time to go back and sleep. You were still talking in the elevator when it reached Kevin's floor. He said goodnight and left, leaving you with your thoughts.

Once you got to your floor, you calmly walked to your door, but a voice in your head convinced you it was a good time for answers.

You knocked Sangyeon's door and waited, getting no answer. You knocked again, impatiently.

— [Y/N], it’s late, what’s wrong? — Sangyeon finally opened his door.

— Why did you bring me?

— What?

— You’re paying for my room and my “courtesies”, you thought I wouldn’t know?

Sangyeon moved to let you in his room. You walked in and waited beside him.

— What’s so wrong about it? — He said after closing his door.

— You lied to me! You told me I was also invited and that the organizers were paying for my food and such. I work for you, why would you do this?

— Ok, let’s get this straight. You don’t work for me, you work with me. Without you I would forget half of the stuff I have to do during the day, I needed you here.

— Are you sure about that? Was paying for such an expensive hotel room necessary?

— Yes. — You closed your mouth surprised.

— Wow, this is beyond unprofessional, Sangyeon.

— I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, but ever since you started working in the company you haven’t had proper vacations.

— How about you hire someone else and I find somewhere else to work? — You asked. You tried to open the door, but Sangyeon had his whole weight on his arms, stopping you.

— Are you seriously quitting right now?

You didn’t turn around. — No, unlike you, I’m a professional. I’ll finish this trip, enjoy my last days here. You’ll have my resignation letter on your desk by Monday.

He sighed and let you go. He couldn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, you sent him a message saying you'll have your breakfast in your room, so he could go to the restaurant without you. And Sangyeon thought you’d also miss the meeting, but you were waiting for him outside the meeting room.

— It’s not necessary, [Y/N], I'm pretty sure this meeting will be a recap of the other two. — Sangyeon said in a lower voice, not wanting the other businessmen to hear him.

You sighed. — Ms. Kim only invited the investors she was truly interested in working with.

Sangyeon bit his lower lip fighting the urge to laugh. — I told you I needed you here.

— Meeting is about to start, Mr. Lee. — You said, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you heard those words.

After the meeting, you waited for him to finish talk with Ms. Kim. You got distracted with the beautiful view the meeting room had. Sangyeon called your name after some minutes and you followed him, saying goodbye to Ms. Kim.

— Well, — Sangyeon and you stopped at your door. — Our flight is on Sunday.

— I know. See you then. — You opened your door and looked at him.

— I really hope you reconsider what you said last night. I promise this won’t happen again.

— See you on Sunday, Mr. Lee.

You were in the pool enjoying the warm water. The businessmen were already leaving. You noticed when Kevin was checking out. “I just thought you were either the wife or the affair” his words made echo in your head. God, who else thought that about you. He looked in your direction and waved goodbye. You smiled and waved back.

— May I? — Sangyeon’s voice made you turn around.

You shrugged and kept swimming, ignoring that he took off his shirt. After 5 minutes of complete silence, you sat on the edge of the pool and turned your head to talk to him.

— Was this the first time you did it? — You asked.

— What? Paying for a whole hotel room, first class flights, food and all-access bracelets for you? — He answered in a sarcastic tone.

— And you still want me to work for you? — You turned your body this time.

— Of course. I know I should’ve told you, but would you have agreed to go all those times knowing I was paying for you? — You stayed silent. — Listen, if you decide to still work with me — Sanyeon made emphasis on the “with”. — I’ll still pay for you, you already do half of my job, just take it as a way to thank you.

You got up and walked to the chair where your towel was. — Did you know some of those businessmen thought I was your wife or even your mistress? And I’m sure it’s not the first time people think that.

— I don’t know why people would think that, [Y/N], we don’t behave like a couple at all. Also, if it’s not true, why are you so worried?

You stopped your tracks and turned around. — You don’t get it, do you? It has nothing to do with how we act, it’s you paying every single penny for me on these business trips that I shouldn't even be on.

— Like I said, I’ll still pay for you if you decide to stay on the boat, and it’ll be the same with the next assistant. — Sangyeon got up and walked to you.

— Then I still stand by my decision to give you my resignation letter on Monday. — He was so close you could feel his breath.

— We make such an amazing team, you have a good salary, I pay for your vacations. I don’t think you’ll be able to find another job like this one.

— Am I your assistant or your sugar baby, Sangyeon?

— I don't know, which one do you want to be?

— You're not implying that…

— It's your decision, pretty.

You didn't care how you looked, you were tired of fighting your inner you to look like a big girl for once. — Do you want me to be only your sugar baby?

And Sangyeon loved the change of aura. — How about we have this very important conversation in my room.

If walls could talk, you were sure Sangyeon's room would gasp before such a scene.

You were under him, hungrily kissing, both of your hands were held over your head with one hand of his while his free hand was exploring every inch of your naked skin, sending shivers from your spine to your cunt.

— Is here where you want me, pretty? — He asked in your ear, running his middle and index fingers over your clothed pussy. — Would you allow me to taste you?

— Please… I…

Sangyeon let your arms go and got down on you, pulling down your bikini bottom. — Tell me if you want me to stop.

He started to lick, as if he was testing the waters. When you didn't show any type of discomfort, he continued by opening your folds with his fingers and finally giving your wet pussy a hard lick that made you moan really loud.

And he didn't give you a moment to breathe, he was sucking on your clit and toying with it with his tongue.

— Fuck… Daddy… please… — You sighed, pulling his hair.

— Are you close, pretty? — He said against your cunt.

You nodded and grabbed the pillows that were beside you before grabbing his face and pulling him to you. — Do you have condoms?

Sangyeon kept fingering you. — I'm so glad they didn't go to waste this time.

You giggled when you saw him rush to his backpack and take two metallic envelopes.

And you thought you were finally going to see his dick when he got back to the bed, but before you could say a word, he was back on your pussy, spreading your legs open to finish the job. You had to push him when he kept eating you out after you had your orgasm.

— Do you remember how you just called me? — Sangyeon asked, taking out one of the condoms and rolling it down on his hard cock.

— I don't think so. — You playfully said, sighing when you felt his tip against your entrance.

— Make some memory because I want to hear it more often.

The whole room was filled with moans, grunts and wet sounds. Your arms were back over your head while your tongues were fighting. You threw your head back with another loud moan when he brushed the spot.

— Right there, daddy. — You whined, hugging his hips with your legs.

Sangyeon's hips took control and kept ramming against you, making the bed squeak.

Your juices were dripping to the bed, letting you know you were close. — Daddy… — You couldn't finish your sentence, you felt your whole body burning. Sangyeon kissed you and massaged your clit, receiving all your moans in his mouth.

— Give it to me, pretty. Cum for me. — His grip on your wrists was deadly, there will be marks the next morning.

You felt how you teared your throat with how loud you moaned while cumming. Sangyeon cummed right after with how tight your pussy was squeezing him.

After five minutes of cleaning yourselves, you went to the bathroom to pee while he was looking for something for you to wear.

— Do you know my room is next to yours, right? — You said, sitting down on his bed.

— Do you promise you'll come back? — He grabbed you by the chain and made you look up.

— Why wouldn't I come back? — Sangyeon gave you a sweet kiss and let you go, getting in the bathroom.

You went to your room to change clothes and pack all your things, leaving everything ready for the next morning.

Once you were in your pajamas, you went to Sangyeon's room. He was already laying down waiting for you.

— Are you hungry? — He asked. He was now wearing sweatpants, but didn't bother to wear a shirt. And the slight tent under the pants gave you a hint that he also didn't have underwear on.

— Kind of. — You crawled through the bed to him and straddled him.

— Do you want me to order something? — His hand shamelessly massaged your butt.

— I think we have a conversation pending, Mr. Lee. — You said before kissing his neck.

— Are you sure you want to have that conversation like this? Fuck… — You licked his neck all the way to his ear. — I don't want you to be my sugar baby, [Y/N]. — You stopped, but didn't move. — I want to start a romantic relationship with you.

Your soul came back to your body, made you laugh. You hit him on his chest. — Is it too hard to ask me to be your girlfriend?

Sangyeon pulled you to kiss you. — And about the job…

— You already know my position on that. — You answered, intertwining your fingers with his.

— You said it yourself. You're a professional, but if you consider you can't separate our relationship at work, then I'll respect your decision.

— What about the rest of the workers?

— I'm the one signing the checks, pretty, if they want to doubt on the position you are in, then they can have a word with me.

The next morning, you turned off your alarm and stretched your body without opening your eyes. You giggled when you felt Sangyeon's lips on the skin of your back.

— Morning, pretty. — His raspy and deep voice made you clench around nothing.

You turned your body and kissed him. — Morning, handsome.

— Call me cheesy, but it's my first night here sleeping the whole night. — Sangyeon kissed you again, pulling one of your legs over his waist.

You felt his morning wood and bit his lower lip, making him groan. — Do you have any plans for today? — You said over his lips.

— Enjoying this really comfortable bed with my girlfriend. — His hips buckled up, brushing his erection on your stomach. — And I was thinking of rescheduling our flight and staying a few more days.

Your hand traveled inside of his pajama pants and started massaging him. — That sounds lovely, but I don't think we have enough condoms for that.

— I can still order more. — His fingers pulled down your shorts and underwear before reaching for the condom that he left over the nightstand last night.

You helped him with it and guided him to your entrance, feeling a pinch of pain for the lack of preparation.

— How long do you want to stay? — Sangyeon asked over your lips, thrusting into you.

— How about you make me cum and then we can talk about anything you want? — Your finger dug in his back, leaving marks.

#kpop smut #the boyz smut #the boyz sangyeon smut #sangyeon smut #the boyz hard hours #sangyeon hard hours #the boyz sangyeon hard hours

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yesterdayiwrote · 2 months

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Ok I don’t really have a lot of proof to back any of this up but I feel like there’s something going on with George behind the scenes ? He doesn’t seem as active on social media lately , and when he is it’s always just about work , and again I don’t really known why but I get this feeling like whenever I see him in interviews during the race weekends he seems very PR than normal as if he’s got a wall up ? He just doesn’t seem as relaxed and happy as normal to me . Maybe I’m just imagining it but I don’t know if the Mercedes pressure behind the scenes is getting to him or if there’s something else ..

Hmmm, honestly, I don't know and George especially is one of the more private drivers about what's going on in his life so its even harder to judge.

I would say the social media thing has been the case for a while now, and if you see tye shit the poor guy gets everytime he posts anything, I don't think it's hard to see why he might be pulling back from using it even more, even via a social media manager because its not nice for anyone to have to trawl through the stuff that gets put in his comments without a second thought.

I also think people have this weird misconception that just because a driver isn't active online like you or I, that they don't know what's getting said about them, when in reality they have people whose entire job it is to tell them what kind of impression they're making online and what people's perceptions of them are. I'm sure hearing all the unhinged bullshit that people keep creating about him is taking its toll on the poor guy. I might be biased because I'm a fan, but the amount of unwarranted negative crap that's posted online about this guy recently is genuinely unhealthy and it's at a sustained level.

If he's deemed to have caused a crash, he's harassed, if he's deemed to have been the wronged party in a crash, he's harassed. If he beats his teammate, he gets abuse, if he gets beaten by his teammate, he gets abuse. Good race, he's lucky, bad race, he's washed. If he keeps it bottled up, he's he's PR robot, if he shows his human side, he's overreacting and too emotional... and that's before you factor in the people who genuinely believe he's sleeping with his boss, the people who think he for some reason singlehandedly engineered Mercedes bad run of cars, and the people who think he has some unspecified vendetta against the guy he can't speak highly enough of at any given opportunity. Oh and the people who think it's okay to film him taking a piss and post it online to joke about. It must be genuinely exhausting to be George right now, especially as a guy who's been quite honest about the fact that he tries really hard to not upset people or cause offence. Even breathing seems to set people off these days.

Then there's the fact that the car sucks yet again. People seem to think this only bothers one driver, but I'm sure George is equally as pissed that he waited so long, put his trust and patience with Merc and this is how they've repaid him. He's barely had a chance to win six races with them, let alone six WDC.

His teammate has decided to leave and somehow in the crossfire, he's looking like he could end up losing his own seat in the mess to replace him for no valid reason whatsoever. I'm sure he's absolutely livid, as any driver would be.

He looks completely jet lagged, because he's been flying back between races which doesn't help. It also looks like he flew into Japan quite late which really wouldn't have helped matters either. He's burning the candle at both ends, under immense stress and pressure... honestly, he probably isn't very relaxed and happy right now.

I hope he starts to have some good fortune soon. I really feel for the guy, and the fact a bunch of armchair critics seem to have decided that he somehow deserves all this, for committing the cardinal sin of believing in himself, makes it even harder to really wrap your head around. As I said the other day, he's inexplicably become the bête noire du jour in online spaces, and I'm sure that feels like utter shit when it's not really identifiably clear what you've done to trigger it?

#f1 #george russell #If I see one more redditor talk about how he's the most hated guy in f1 right now #And it be purely because he looks a bit posh #I might actually scream

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tojifile · 1 year

Text

Dazai Osamu: One call away

Genre: Angst / suggestive & toxic themes

I'm You're only one call away (Masterlist)

(๑•﹏•) Toxic!Dazai x gn!reader

Distant noises of people could be heard through the bustling streets of Yokohama. Amidst all the noise and chaos was Dazai Osamu.

It was around 1AM when you felt your phone buzzing, you answered without looking at the caller id, you just couldn't be bothered to do so early in the morning "Hey.. I know we haven't talked in a while but-" before he could speak he was cut off "but what?!" Dazai's breath hitched as he heard your angry tone. "Please.. pick me up.." Dazai softly spoke.

He couldn't be resisted, every word, every movement, every breath. "Fine. Where the hell are you?" Silence, he hesitated to response "At a bar.. you know which bar." He responded "Tsk, you alcoholic bastard." You spoke before hanging up.

After a few minutes you finally arrive at the bar. You walk inside and find Dazai with his head on the counter. You walk over to Dazai, you carefully brushed the hair off his face. All of a sudden he had his hand on your wrist, gripping it tightly as he propped his chin in the palm of his unoccupied hand. "I knew you'd come." He said as a smug smirk formed on his face.

"I didn't come here to play games Dazai." You spoke nonchalantly. "Not even 'Dazai-kun' darling? How depressing." He spoke with faux sorrow. "It truly is!— you spoke sarcastically —now let's go." Dazai sighed, got up then stood behind you and put his arms around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"Darling.. why don't we stay? Just for a bit." Dazai whispered into your ear. He reeked of alcohol and his breath was hot and his touch was both warm and cold. "We have to go Dazai.." You spoke softly, trying not to melt into his touch. You grab his wrist and start walking towards the exit and to your car.

"Daaarliing!" Dazai whined behind you although he didn't resist. You get to your car then unlocked the doors. You opened the door on the passenger's side then gently helped him sit on the passenger's seat. You buckle his seat belt for him and made sure he was comfortable.

You get onto the driver's seat and start the car. You drive to his apartment and help Dazai out of the car and up to his apartment. You guided him all the way to his bedroom, you tucked him in and made sure he was comfortable. You were about to leave until he grabbed your wrist. "Stay, please." He spoke softly. A part of you wanted to stay but another part knew that I shouldn't. "Dazai.. you know I can't.." I spoke softly with a hint of sympathy and sadness. "Darling.. you know you want to." Dazai taunted. He wasn't one to beg, if anything he'd replace something he'd lost as if nothing happened. "No." was all you could muster up to say. You knew you wanted to crawl back to his arms. He made you feel real, even for just a second. A type of serenity that was out of touch when he wasn't around.

"Dazai.. we can't keep doing this.." You mumbled shakily. "Why do you keep pushing me away?" Dazai calmly spoke as he sat up to pull you right onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on your shoulder with your back turned to his chest.

"Pushing you away? I just picked you up, at 1AM, from a bar. What the hell do you mean 'pushing me away' ?!" You angrily spat, trying to squirm away from his grasp. Dazai tightened his grip "Oh darling.. it won't be that easy." He confidently mocked. "Why do you keep doing this..? Giving me love when you're down and need another?!" You spoke as you tried to keep the tears at bay.

"Now I can't pass up a gorgeous woman for a stupid girl, right?" Dazai spoke smugly. His words made the tears flow. You were now crying in his arms, you couldn't escape, you weren't even sure if you wanted to escape.

"Oh darling, your tears are just proving my point." He chuckled softly. "You look so adorable when you're sad." He mumbled quietly. There was no way to get out of this now. You were in his spell, you fell into his trap. All he heard from you were small muffled noises, much like whimpers.

"Now now, don't you want to look your best for me?" Dazai spoke confidently as he held your chin with his fingers, making you face him. He looked at you intensely as tears streamed down your cheeks "Pathetic." He spoke with indifference, eyeing your figure up and down. Your mind was begging you not to make the same mistake again and Dazai saw through all that. Nothing could get past him except his own intentions. Humans were made to wonder, not know. Dazai Osamu however, was quite—different.

Author's notes:

Toxic!Dazai fics keep me going. It's just so interesting for me to keep up with everything and how Dazai changed his mood and tone so quickly and me, being desperate would totally go for someone like that (I did -8/10 would not recommend). The toxicity and the rollercoasters I go through reading toxic!Dazai fics are astounding.

Spontaneous post: 06/20/23 01:25AM GMT+8 Philippine Standard Time

#Dazai #Dazai Osamu #Osamu Dazai #Dazai x reader #dazai osamu x you #bungo stray dogs headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x y/n #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai x gn!reader #toxic!dazai x reader #toxic!dazai x gn!reader

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outcastpack · 9 months

Text

I wanna drown in an ocean of you.

The birthday present moodboard

I'm also using this as a mini celebration for 200 followers because I only just realised I had hit it 😅🤣

Theo entered the garage, following Jenna in as she turns the lights on.

The women immediately went ahead to start routing through the boxes that surrounded the room to begin looking for the photo albums, but Theo's attention was pulled towards something else, in the centre of the garage sat a large sheet covering something- specifically a car if the outline was anything to go by.

"Whats that?" He asks Jenna, pointing at the covered vehicle when she turns to face him. The women instantly looks at the car fondly. "That was my father's car before he passed it on to me." Jenna stands to her feet moving towards the vehicle motioning for Theo to help her.

Together they pull the sheet off the vehicle. Theo's eyes widen as the car is revealed.

A 1970s Ford Mustang.

The vehicle is in definite need of repair and restoration. His eyes skimming over the cars black exterior.

Jenna has moved. Walking along the car stroking her hand over the hood. "I used to drive this car everywhere, even Liam grew up with me driving it." Theo moves along the car looking through the drivers door window.

As expected the interior was in need of help. New seats needed and potentially a new steering wheel not even counting if the car would even start up.

"I wanted to pass it on to Liam one day, but the old girl was damaged and her parts are hard to come by, if not impossible. " Jenna is motioning towards the front of the car now where the front bumper and hood were damaged leading up to the passenger side.

"I couldn't bare the thought of being rid of her though. She was my own father's and is one of the last things I have of him." Jenna’s voice cracks a little as she speaks. Theo turns back to face Jenna seeing the slight wetness in her eyes as she reminisces over the vehicle.

"Does it start?" He asks her. Eyeing the car with interest. A small idea forming in his head.

Jenna turns towards the wall where a rack of keys hangs off it. Pulling out a set and motioning towards the vehicle. She opens the drivers door- ignoring the dust that comes away.

She puts the key in the ignition turning it to try and start the vehicle.

Nothing happens

She tries again- and again.

The engine roars a little before dieing, immediately shutting off.

The women sighs climbing out. Eyeing the vehicle with sadness. "She has been sat here for years now." She sighs sounding a little dejected turning put the key back on the rack.

Theo reachs out, taking the key slowly out her hands. Walking around the car.

Theo stays silent as his gaze returns solely back to the car.

He imagines a younger Jenna driving the car for the first time, to a young Liam sat on her knee holding the wheel while he tries to reach the peddles.

He imagines a 19 year old Liam driving this car.

It being parked outside the beach house or Theo's apartment next to Theo's own truck.

A checklist forming in his head over what the car needs.

New bumper and hood, the interior needing to be restored, issue with the engine needing to be fixed, potentially a full replacement of it, and the exterior needing a complete respray to make it look new along with other things.

Jenna was right. Parts like what it would need would be rare to come by.

Luckily Theo knew just the man that had the contacts they would need. Who had restored other older models before. Theo was sure with his dad's helped, they could both get the Mustang running again.

Theo smiles at Jenna, tapping his hand along the top of the car. "I'm gonna need to borrow her for awhile." The women eyes her sons boyfriend with confusion while Theo's grin just widens.

#teen wolf #theo raeken #liam dunbar #thiam #thiam fic #liams birthday present moodboard #thiam moodboard #thiam as jasher #i wanna drown in an ocean of you fic #also mini celebration of 200 followers (even if most are from my tw characters on twt series)

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farity · 6 months

Text

In the Red of Night, part 10

"It's a trap."

"It might be."

"You know it is."

Alys ignored Bronn's insistence. She was in charge and that was that. He huffed to himself and then left to get ready for the upcoming meeting.

She wasn't stupid - of course she figured that Aemond wasn't going to meet her just to kneel down and pledge himself to her. Which is why she was taking half a dozen of her best men with her, including Bronn.

But she also knew Aemond, and the mere fact that he was willing to meet with her meant he was open to more than dinner. She squeezed her thighs together, thinking of them going back to the hotel room she had booked. It had been so long.

No one had ever replaced him in her heart, or in her bed. She had fucked many a lesser man and every orgasm had left her empty, hollow.

It was Aemond or nothing.

He would see, she wanted them to rule together, to be the king and queen of the realm. What should have been all those centuries ago would be now and he would finally appreciate her brilliance, her determination. And he would love her as she deserved.

There had been no sighting, no trace of the silly little bonbon - the stupid little human was, like most humans eventually were, history. Not worthy of the long existence that she and Aemond had. She could never be important to Aemond.

This time, the witch and the dragon would finally take their rightful place atop the masses.

* * * * *

"You trust me?"

"Of course."

He kissed you again, his large hands framing your face. "I love you," he whispered, and you smiled.

"I love you."

He pressed his forehead against yours for a moment, then pulled back, took your hand to his lips and kissed it before getting into the black car that awaited him.

You went to the SUV where Gendry was already in the driver's seat while Arya waited just outside. "Ready?"

You nodded.

"We'll pick up the rest on our way there," she said as you got in. "Let's get this party on the road," she smiled at Gendry as she closed her door.

To be honest, you were terrified. It was one thing to run drills with Arya, to go through scenarios with her, Gendry and their people, but to actually face Alys Rivers was a different thing.

It wasn't her beauty or the clothes she wore - she had a presence about her, a dominance that had made you collapse after she'd come into your coffee shop. You remembered Gendry rushing to make sure you didn't hit the floor. You remembered the shop, the love and care you'd put into it. The endless hours. Every cent you'd had to your name.

Pushing your anger aside, as Arya had taught you, you went through your mental drills. They were as important, if not more so, than the physical stuff. All the combat training in the world, Arya had said, was useless if you froze in the face of danger.

"Make a list," Arya had said. "It helped me back then."

You hadn't asked for details because frankly, Arya scared you just a little bit, but you had dutifully made your list, and repeated it to yourself every night before falling asleep.

* * * * *

Ten, three, five, Aemond thought as he walked into the exclusive restaurant Alys had chosen for their dinner.

He figured there were more of her people throughout the place, but his first impression was that if she wanted them to blend in, they had woefully failed the brief.

The hostess looked terrified, behind the perfectly polished exterior, and he figured she was unaware of the details, but knew something strange was happening tonight. "This way, sir," she said, and led him to a corner table where Alys waited.

"Aemond," Alys stood and walked around to extend her hand, palm down, for him to kiss.

He grasped her fingers for a moment and then let go before taking his seat. "I'm here, Alys. What do you want?"

He saw the flicker of annoyance in her eyes, both at his obvious lack of courtesy, and at his words, but she smiled at him and signaled to the hostess to bring some wine.

"Aemond, let us not be hasty. This is the best restaurant in the city."

"Yet half the people here are common criminals, unworthy of setting foot in this place."

She pressed her lips together. "I wouldn't need to have people with me if I trusted you more," she said softly, "but we can fix all that. Oh, the wine."

He said nothing while the server poured two glasses, placed one in front of Alys for her to try.

"Lovely, thank you."

Another server walked up, set a long tray with an assortment of bread, a bowl of oil and balsamic vinegar.

"I have a proposal that will benefit us both." She reached into her bag and Aemond tensed instinctively, but she only pulled out a folder and extended it to him. "I believe you will be impressed by what I have put together, and of course, with us working together, the possibilities are endless."

He took the folder from her, watching out of the corner of his eye as a couple walked in. The man had short black hair and wore a suit that didn't hide his muscled build, and the woman was petite, wore a leather jacket with black trousers and boots, and as Aemond well knew, they were both armed to the teeth.

He glanced through the papers while Alys picked at the bread, dipped a piece in the oil and balsamic before eating it. She sipped at her wine, her eyes on Aemond.

"You've got background on all these?"

Alys smiled smugly. "Yes. And investors ready to drop whatever I ask."

No, you don't, he thought.

* * * * *

One of her men kept looking over and Alys was going to lose it. What was it with these fucking ruffians that they couldn't play pretend for half an hour?

She had dressed them in designer suits, brought them to the most exclusive place in the city, and they kept acting like peasants, was it really too much to ask to pretend to be posh for a little bit?

"Are you okay, Alys?" Aemond asked, a smile playing upon his mouth, and she wanted to slap him for it. He could always tell.

"I just want us to work together, darling. Let bygones be bygones and look at the bigger-"

"Bygones."

She took a slow breath. "Aemond." She made herself fold her hands together on her lap. "Let's sign the deal. Let's work together for a greater purpose."

"I need to run this by my lawyers, do some more-"

"Aemond!"

She couldn't help herself, she could never help herself around him. Always wanted more. Because he never gave her everything. He always kept part of himself locked away and she wanted it all.

He sat back, watching her.

"I'm sorry, darling," she tried again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You know everything is solid. You know how I work. I have the investors, I have-"

"But you don't." He spoke gently and her anger rose. "You don't, Alys."

"I've spoken to the VCs, I have-"

"You don't have them, Alys. They all came to me after your insistent letters and messages. Venture capitalists don't like to be bullied."

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "What did you say to them?"

Aemond placed the folder next to Alys's wine glass. "I said that they could work with you if they wished, but that there was no partnership between you and me. Not now. Not ever."

She could only stare at him, and he could sense her growing recklessness, the cruelty that was under that polished surface, ready to spring into action.

"I will kill her, Aemond. I will not let you humiliate-"

"I have done nothing of the sort, Alys. I have lived my long life without bothering you and I was hoping you would be able to do the same."

Alys stood, and he had to give it to Arya Stark, she giggled at that moment, still pretending to be engrossed in her conversation with Gendry.

He sensed five people going on alert around him.

"You belong to me, Aemond. You can play with your food all you want, but that fucking bitch," she laughed bitterly, "you can't possibly want a milquetoast like that when you can have me. She is a temporary diversion."

Aemond stood slowly, arms at his side.

"Alys, she is no longer temporary."

"Oh, Aemond," Alys sighed. "What have you done?"

If she was expecting any regret from him, any form of appeal to her mercy, she was wrong.

"Moved on," he said, simply. "Found love. You should have tried it."

"We had love," Alys snapped. "We had everything."

Aemond scoffed. "You had me on a leash, which was your definition of everything." He shook his head. "Not mine."

Alys walked around the table. "You'll grow tired of her."

Aemond said nothing and Alys began to walk closer. The five people he'd sensed earlier stood, and Alys held up a hand.

"How could you, Aemond? How could you betray me? Us?"

"There is no us, Alys. And my patience, as much as you've tested it through the decades, is not infinite."

"I will end her. I don't care if you've turned her. You belong to me," she repeated.

"You will find," a new voice said, and Alys turned at the sound, "that you can't make that true just by saying it over and over."

If there had been anger in Alys's eyes before, there was only fury now, and Aemond had to smile at the sight of his woman, walking in to the dining room of the restaurant.

He extended a hand, and she walked toward him. She smiled at him and placed her hand in his.

"My choice," Aemond said, "and thank the old gods and the new, her choice as well."

Alys leapt, placing one foot on the edge of the table and jumping over it, a dagger in each hand as she aimed for them.

* * * * *

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