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About You Pt 7

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

A/N: okay after a long while, here we have an update! huge shoutout for @olesyaexperience for the lovely message she left me for this series. i hope you enjoy this!!

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444

2010, Winter break

If anyone asks, Y/N was not waiting on Sebastian's call.

She definitely was not checking her phone every five minutes to see if Sebastian left a message or anything. In her defense, she was just a bit worried that Sebastian must have been upset with her not being around. This championship is a big thing and a once in a lifetime achievement so she should have forced herself to celebrate yesterday with the team. With their abrupt leaving yesterday, she fed the media with the narrative that Webbers are crybaby and can't accept that Vettel won.

But she might have given herself away when she picked up the phone without it going on a single ring.

"Whoa its like you were waiting for me to call" Sebastian's teasing voice greeted her.

"Well hello there Mr. World Champion" Y/N replied back "Seems like you've been busy"

Sebastian chuckles at the other end and Y/N could just picture that smile on his face right now.

"Not too busy, just chilling around" Sebastian shrugs.

Y/N wraps her jacket closer to her body. It was snowing today in Australia, a big contrast to the tropical weather of Abu Dhabi. She finds herself thinking if Sebastian is inside his hotel room and taking a break from all the media duties.

"How are you feeling champ?"

"Amazing. Unreal. Phenomenal. High" Sebastian enumerates.

She was brimming with joy for Sebastian. It was really a well-deserved win. She wished that she could be there for Sebastian but her health is really taking a toll on her.

"You don't have to worry"Sebastian reassures "I'll win the championship again next year and you could celebrate with me then"

"Really? You are that confident?"

"Of course especially when you are smiling wildly like that"Sebastian teased.

"You got that I'm smiling from hearing my voice?" Y/N confusedly asked.

"Look out your window"

There was no way that Sebastian would be traveling all the way to Australia just to see her. However, there was the german driver standing with a grin on his face. Y/N didn't waste any more time and ran down to hug the world champion.

"You're fucking crazy Seb" Y/N exclaimed before hugging him.

They could feel both of their hearts pounding as they exchanged gleeful chuckles with each other.

"Only for you Y/N" Sebastian whispers "Only for you"

And Y/N swears her heart just went faster.

2011, Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit

It was a different feeling walking back to the paddock and having so many people cheer your name. For Sebastian, being the current world champion, has instantly given him a boost of fans especially among the young boys, who wanted to be a world champion just like him.

He never felt intimidated by the kids but with the way that this blonde kid has been making his way to him, Sebastian would like to rethink his decision that kids aren't scary.

"You are Sebastian Vettel right?" the blonde-haired kid asked.

The kid was dressed in a casual way without any team merchandise or branding with him. He looked pretty serious looking for a kid of his age and Sebastian swears he seen this look before. He cautiously looked at the paddock passes that hung around the child's neck, Mick Schumacher.

"I am Sebastian" Sebastian straightens himself up.

"I have heard a lot of things about you from Y/N" Mick said "I need to talk to you privately about her"

Sebastian could only nod as he led the young Schumacher to his driver's room. He honestly didn't think that he would be following a young kid's orders but here he is.

"What do you wanna talk about?"Sebastian started to ask

"I heard you went to her over the christmas break that's why she couldn't join us to go for skiing" Mick paced the room "And I heard you also took her to Monaco for her birthday"

The way Mick looked at Sebastian, he honestly doubt if Mick is actually a Michael Schumacher in disguise.

"And so what's your deal with her?"Mick crossed his arms "Do you like her?"

"What? How can you possibly say that, that's cra-"

"You do things for Y/N that my Papa does to my Mama"Mick said

His face was heating up by the ambush questioning of Mick and he felt himself sweating with the pressure building up. Sebastian already knew of his feelings from long ago but he couldn't understand why he doesn't have the guts to admit it.

"Well, I'm waiting here"Mick was an impatient kid "Do you like her or not?"

"I like her" Sebastian mumbles as if its a secret he only wanted to shared with himself.

"What? I can't hear you"

"Fine, I like her. I like Y/N" Sebastian admits louder.

It was the first time that Sebastian saw a small smile appear on Mick's face. He felt like his shoulders relaxed a bit while the young boy sits on one of the couches.

"So if you like her then why don't you make a move on her?"

Sebastian was stumped by the boy's question. Why doesn't he make a move on her?

"Well its complicated Mick and its not easy because I might lose a friend" Sebastian argues "It's not that I don't want to make a move on her but I don't want to put her in a difficult position"

"But isn't this also difficult for the two of you? Pretending you two are friends when you two are so much more"Mick had a good point.

He scratches his head. He actually had a plan long ago about confessing to Y/N when he becomes world champion but its been months after he became a world champion but he has no where near a game plan of how to confess to Y/N.

"You adults are so complicated, no wonder Mama doesn't want me to grow up"Mick complains.

"You won't get it, its too complicated and dangerous"

"You drive fast cars for a living and you say that telling a girl that you like how you feel is dangerous" Mick pouts.

Sebastian could only laugh how smart Mick was. He cannot believe that a young boy is telling him what to do with his love life.

"I only came here for one thing and that's for you to make a promise to have good intentions with Y/N"Mick added "Y/N is one of the best person out there and she takes care of me and my sister when our parents are not around"

There was a clear adoration in Mick's eyes and Sebastian felt himself warm up to how Mick is here because he is looking out for Y/N. He gave him a small pat in the back.

"Don't worry about it, I got her"

"Promise me that you won't hurt her okay? Even if it takes time for you to say your feelings"Mick reiterated.

"I promise Mick"Sebastian chuckles.

The little boy felt comforted by Sebastian's words and soon enough the two were engaging about a topic on motorsports. It turns out that having a great adoration for Y/N isn't their only shared interest. As they were heading out of the Red Bull motorhome, they encountered a very stressed out Y/N.

"Ohmygod Mick, we have been looking everywhere for you" Y/N worriedly states "Your Papa and Mama has been worried sick"

"I only went to have a chat with Seb"Mick grins.

Y/N looked at Sebastian suspiciously as if trying to figure out what the two talk about.

"Should I be worried?"

"You shouldn't stress about it"Sebastian assures "C'mon lets get little Schumi back to Michael"

The walk back to the Mercedes motorhome was how Mick held on both Sebastian and Y/N's hands. The three were giggling with each other while the cameras capture them. If there were new fans on the grid then they would have thought that they are a family walking at the paddock.

Somehow this thought couldn't leave Sebastian's head.

2011, Sepang International Circuit

Sebastian's dominance for the season is being affirmed with his second win for the current season. Y/N understands how this puts a lot of pressure on Mark especially when he feels frustrated that they have the same car but they are performing differently.

Usually, Y/N would congratulate Mark with a stellar drive because he went from P10 to P4 but her older brother is having a tantrum.

"I'm not doing well so save your congratulations for when I win a Grand Prix" Mark was furious with his words.

"Can you be a good sport and just for a second think rationally before speaking"Y/N pleaded.

"I don't give a crap about this" Mark replied "I am here to win and not be Mr. Congeniality"

Y/N slammed the door shut so no one could overhear them talking. With the way their voices are raised right now, Y/N's main goal was not to let the media get a whiff of this whole conversation.

"Seriously Mark, this isn't you... What is happening to you"Y/N asked.

"I'm actually done playing nice one with Sebastian and I'm focused on how to beat him this season" Mark stated "I don't care if he is your friend but on track he is a different person and I'll start acting like that"

"Mark, this isn't good for you"

"Just shut it Y/N if you're not going to help me win" Mark's words were cold.

And he left Y/N with her devices. Y/N couldn't believe that Mark could say such words but she attributes it to the pressure that must have been building up at his side of the garage. She just brushes it off as a bad weekend attitude from Mark.

2011, Silverstone circuit

Webber made the second driver again.

Mark Webber must have thought that he can secure a win for this weekend with his pole position advantage. However as the race began, Sebastian Vettel, his teammate and current world champion, has received a better start. Vettel was quick to surpass his teammate and hold a comfortable distance between them. Webber was able to retake the lead when Vettel had a pitstop but his victory was only shortlived after Webber suffers a horrendous pitstop.

By the end of the race, the controversial radio of Red Bull telling Webber to retain his position behind Sebastian. But Webber disobeyed the orders and continues to fight for Sebastian at the very end. Unfortunately for the Australian driver, Sebastian Vettel stays ahead claiming P2 and him in P3. Well its not bad for a second driver, atleast you are still in the podium Mark.

Webber and Button reunited in McLaren.

Y/N Webber and Jenson Button are spotted leaving the Silverstone Circuit last Sunday. Eagle-eyed fans spotted how they went straight to the McLaren Technology Center. It is quite funny because as one may recall it, Y/N Webber is technically a Red Bull employee as Mark's personal assistant. So what is she doing winding up in the enemy's territory?

2011, Nürburgring

Sebastian would like to think that this is all just an elaborate prank and that Y/N transferring to McLaren is just a joke. However, as race week start to approach and he sees how Y/N is wearing a McLaren team merchandise, Sebastian was out of focus.

He immediately seeks out his teammate because how could he have let Y/N go to other teams.

"Mark, what the fuck is going on with Y/N?" Sebastian barged in "I just saw her entering McLaren"

"What do you think it looks like?" Mark scoffed.

There is no way that Y/N would have been supporting McLaren unless she wasn't actually supporting McLaren.

"You fucking fired her?"

It was the only logical explanation available for Sebastian. Y/N got fired by Mark and Y/N had to find another job to sustain herself. Sebastian already know that McLaren has been trying to poach Y/N since Jenson moved there but he was always confident that Y/N would only switch if Mark fired her.

"I have to"Mark confirms "She is a distraction for me and a liability"

"A liability? A distraction?" Sebastian was bewildered.

"Yes because as long as she is here then I cannot fight you for the championship because I'm thinking how my personal relationship is at stake if I fight you"Mark was placing the blame on Y/N "But I want to fucking win"

Sebastian was beyond speechless. He have seen how much Y/N has tried her best to seperate their friendship and her family relationship especially during the championship. He felt so angry because all Y/N has been doing for the past few years has been to support Mark. But Mark has a too big of an ego to see that.

"You better watch yourself because I'm going to run you to the wall" Sebastian promised.

There was a certain anger in Sebastian's eyes because he felt like he would be driving with a personal vendetta for the next few races. Y/N has been so wronged by her brother and Sebastian promises that he will make it much more difficult for Mark.

"Is that a threat Vettel?"

"You bet it is"

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[cutielando]

always and forever ~ charles leclerc

Summary: You and Charles have always been there for each other, and you will continue to do so always and forever.

Words: 1.7k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

It had always been the two of you.

You had known each other since you were kids, starting as best friends and then evolving into a beautiful couple that stuck with each other through everything.

You were always there to cheer him up and make him feel better after bad races, he was always there when the hate from the fans was too much for you. You were a rock to each other.

Charles has had a bad year. Ferrari was doing worse than ever, he couldn't win races because of the car, people were putting pressure on him to perform and he just felt like he couldn't do it anymore without breaking down.

He's had his fair load of bad strategies, long pit stops, feeling like the team didn't support him and prioritized Carlos instead of him, overall just doing him dirty all year long.

It was now time for the last race of the season, Abu Dhabi. 

Like always, you were right next to your boyfriend, having taken time off work to make sure you could be there with him for the entire weekend.

You were currently in your hotel room, getting ready to go with Charles to the paddock ahead of qualifying that afternoon.

"I don't want to go" Charles said while he watched you do your hair, his heart swelling when he saw you wearing a Ferrari shirt with his name and number on the back.

"Why not? You love Abu Dhabi" you frowned in confusion, just now seeing how truly miserable he looked.

"I know how things will play out, so I don't even see the point of racing when I just now I'll disappoint everyone yet again" he shrugged, looking at his feet and playing with his fingers.

You put down the hair straightener that you were holding and stepped closer to him, taking his face in your hands and making him have no choice but to look at you.

"Mon amour, I know you've had a tough year, and nobody is blaming you for your results. Everyone sees that Ferrari is letting you down and they know you are doing the best you can with what you have. Stop worrying about what people are going to say and just go out there and do what you love the most. Race, have fun. Screw the results, I'm going to be proud of you no matter what place you end up on. But just go and have fun one last time this year and we'll come back stronger next year" by the time you finished speaking, Charles was biting his lip and a tear was threatening to spill from his eye.

"I love you so much, you know that?" he whispered and chuckled, his voice cracking at the end.

"I love you too, and I'm so proud of you, baby" you whispered before leaning in and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

Charles wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling your body flush against his, wanting to be as close to you as humanly possible.

You were holding him just as tightly, your arms securely wrapped around his neck while one hand played with the small hairs at the back of his neck.

"Ready?" you asked once you pulled away, outstretching your hand towards him with an encouraging smile.

He nodded and took your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.

"Let's go"

♡♡♡♡♡

The Ferrari garage was buzzing.

Engineers were running around, Charles and Carlos were deep into a conversation, Frederic was trying to keep everyone under control and you were just hanging around with Arthur, Charles' brother, shaking your head at the chaos that was the red Italian team.

"It's amazing hos disorganized they've been the entire year" Arthur quietly said into your ear, making sure nobody from the team could hear him.

"I know, it took a huge toll on Charles. He didn't even want to come today, it took me half an hour to persuade him to just go race and have some fun" you said, your eyes finding Charles every now and then.

He seemed a little calmer than he was back at your hotel while talking to Carlos, knowing that he enjoyed the Spaniard's company and honestly valued their friendship outside the track.

"I wonder if he'll stay at Ferrari next year" Arthur wondered, now also looking at his brother.

"You know he's still under contract, he wouldn't just leave them like that after 5 years" you explained, but on the inside you wished he would do just that.

Charles was one of the best drivers on the grid, everyone knew that. A lot of teams would love to have him in their line-up, including Red Bull and McLaren. You've spoken to Charles about potential offers and what he thought his future looked like, but you knew he would say loyal to Ferrari until the end of his contract.

"I know, but maybe he'll change his mind once the next season is done if Ferrari don't get a grip and improve, you know" Arthur explained, and you nodded.

"I hope so. We've talked about it, but he said he didn't want to think about that just yet" you said, dropping the subject once you saw your boyfriend making his way over to the two of you.

"What are you two plotting?" he teased, hugging Arthur before wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your cheek.

"Nothing you should know" Arthur said, winking at the both of you before leaving to give you a moment before the start of the race.

You turned to Charles, studying his face.

"How are you feeling?" you asked quietly, taking a hold of his hands.

"I'm fine. I'm just going to go out there and drive the best I can, like I always do. Have some fun, just like you said. Have to listen to the wifey, right?" he smiled teasingly, the nickname making you blush heavily.

Charles had recently started calling you his "wifey" after having been together for 3 years. You often talked about the future and knew that you both wanted to spend the rest of your lives together and would take the next step when you both felt ready.

But what you didn't know was that the day might come sooner than you thought.

♡♡♡♡♡

Contrary to what everyone was expecting, Charles had managed to win the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. He drove so well, like his life depended on it and you couldn't have been more proud of him.

When it was time for the podium celebrations, you couldn't take your eyes off him as he received his much-wanted trophy, holding it up in the air and blowing you a kiss once he found you in the huge crowd.

Before the champagne shower could start, however, Charles asked for a microphone, putting his trophy down and looking nervously at Max and Lando, the teammates he shared the podium with.

"Wow. I can't believe we did it. We had a tough year at Ferrari this season, not being quite where we wanted, but we ended the season on a high note and I want to thank every single member of the team that made this all possible" he said, putting the mic down to give a round of applause for everyone.

You followed suit, your eyes never leaving him.

"Secondly, I want to thank a special person, but I need her up here with me. Y/N, will you come up here, please?" he asked, the lights suddenly finding you in the crowd.

Your eyes widened, a heavy blush coating your cheeks. Charles' PR manager found you in the crowd and helped lead you upstairs towards the podium, giving you a silent encouragement before she let you step out.

The crowd was cheering when they say you standing next to your boyfriend, prompting you to give them a small wave before turning to Charles.

"Y/N, there aren't enough that can express how much I love you and how deeply grateful I am to have you in my life. You've been with me throughout this entire journey, 4 years now already you've put up with me. You know me better than I know myself, you always know what to say and how to make me feel better after a bad race, you're always there for me, cheering me on and supporting me through everything and I can't thank you enough for it all" he spoke, putting his hand in his pocket and taking out a small, velvet box.

Your eyes instantly widened and filled with tears, knowing what was about to happen. Your hands went up to your mouth, not believing it was finally happening.

"I never want to know what my life would look like without you in it because I plan on spending every second left of it cherishing you and being by your side. So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?" opening the box, you saw the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever laid your eyes on, making your tears freely swim down your cheeks.

You didn't trust your voice, so you nodded your head feverishly, falling to your knees in front of him and collapsing into his arms, holding on for dear life.

You cried into his shoulder, holding onto each other tightly. The crowd erupted into loud cheers, Max and Lando opening the champagnes and spraying everyone around them, congratulating the two of you.

You pulled away from the hug and kissed Charles, pouring every single emotion you felt in that moment into the kiss. 

"Do you want the ring?" his tone was teasing once you pulled away and he still held the ring in his hand.

You laughed, nodding and extending your hand towards him.

He took out the ring and gently pushed it onto your ring finger, it fitting like it was made just for you.

"I love you so much, amour. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my days with you" you whispered, bringing him in for another hug.

"I promised you always and forever, I intend to keep that promise"

And as you stood kneeling in the middle of the podium, celebrations taking place all around you, the only thing you focused on was each other, nothing able to burst your little bubble of bliss.

Your always and forever love.

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[breanime]

Five Senses: Sight (with Bonus Boy)

Billy Russo: You were the first thing Billy saw in his dreams overseas. No matter what horrors he had seen or committed that day, no matter how much blood was on his hands when he laid down to rest, no matter the dirt under his nails or the sweat on his skin, every night, he dreamt of you. And in his dreams, he was cleansed by you. In his dreams, Billy would see your bright eyes and that smile, that special smile you had for him and him alone, and no matter what atrocities he had seen or done, that smile would heal him. That smile, your smile, would warm him down to his bones--and that wasn’t a metaphor, it was true. Huddled in a flimsy tent with Frank and 12 other men, a freezing rain pouring down all around, nothing but a thin blanket and his fatigues to keep him covered, but Billy was warm. When he saw you, he was engulfed by your warmth, by your smile, by your love. Just the sight of you, dream or not, was enough to put Billy at easy, no matter where he was in the world. He’d memorized every part of you, and he pictured you, inch by glorious inch, when he needed your comfort. It wasn’t as good as being with you, of course, but it was a saving grace for him, and Billy was not a man who easily settled into being saved...unless his hero was you. 

Logan Delos: Logan was a man of wealth and taste. He’d been born into his riches, and he’d become desensitized to many of the incredible things he’d seen in his time. He had seen sights that would leave an ordinary men speechless, had gone places that were normally closed off to public eyes. It didn’t faze him. Indescribable sights, things people would save up all their lives to see, seen and shrugged off within seconds by Logan. But the sight of you? Damn. You could drop him to his knees. Logan had just gotten off of his private Delos jet after spending a week lounging in the most decadent suite he could find in Abu Dhabi; the view had been described as “breathtaking”, but Logan hadn’t found himself having any difficult breathing as he looked out at the expansive city, drowned in orange by the sunset. But now, as Logan walked into your shared penthouse, he was breathless. You were laid out on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, and you were fast asleep. It wasn’t an elegant sleep; you weren’t Scarlett O’Hara draped over a satin lounge chair, you were you, knocked out in the middle of the afternoon wearing one of his shirts. And you were, without a doubt, without exaggeration, the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen. Wordlessly, because he was speechless, Logan sat on the edge of the couch and reached out to you. Looking at you, your mouth slightly open, wearing his shirt, you arm splayed across your forehead, Logan felt himself melt. Truly, you were the most striking sight he had ever seen.

Jax Teller: Seeing Jax dressed all in orange, chains around his ankles, two armed guards on either side of him, should have made you sad. It should have made you realize that, as much as you loved Jax, he was a criminal, and moments like this were bound to happen again and again if you stayed with him. You should leave--now, while you still could. But when he sat across from you, and you looked into those blue eyes of his... You knew that you weren’t going anywhere. “Talked to my Mom earlier,” he said, settling into his seat, “she said my bail should be posted in a few days, and then I’ll be home... I’m sorry, darling, I know this isn’t what you signed up for--” “How much more does Gemma need for bail?” You asked, watching as his eyes widened. “Babe, you don’t have to--” “I’m gonna be your Old Lady some day,” you answered back, “I need to learn how to do this.” You watched as his smile spread, his eyes wrinkling. “You’re gonna be my Old Lady, huh?” He said back. You leaned forward, making sure he was looking right into your eyes. You could see a warmth in them when he looked at you, an affection there that was for you, and you only. “I love you, Jax, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you. But in order to do that, we need to get you out of this place. So come on, tell me how much she needs to make your bail.” He chuckled, and leaned in as well, “You don’t realize how much I needed to see you...to hear you say that,” he reached out for your hand, and you looked down and smiled at the sight of his hand in yours, “You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.” 

Coco Cruz: The doctor said his eyes would heal, but it would be a while. And though he was a sniper, Coco wasn’t a patient man. You sat on the bed, watching him pace around in circles in your shared bedroom. “Coco,” you sighed. “What if my eyes never get better?” He asked, stopping and turning to you, the white patch over his injured eye wrinkled as he frowned. “Coco...” “What if I can never ride again? Or use a fucking gun? How am I gonna work?” “Coco...” He fell to his knees in front of the bed, and you reached out and caressed his face. His dark brown eye was watery with emotion, and you heart clenched at the pain you could see there. “What if I can’t see our baby?” He asked, his hand going to rest on your growing stomach. You felt tears spring to your eyes, but you held them back. “You will. Okay? The doctor said it can be treated, and it’ll take rehab and time, but you will see again. I promise you.” Coco nodded, leaning into you for a hug. You closed your eyes, wishing you could give him the gift of sight, wishing you could will him to heal faster. But you couldn’t. All you could do--all either of you could do--was wait. And wait you did. And the day your baby girl was born, the first thing she saw was Coco, his eyes filled with tears as he looked down at his newborn child. It had taken a lot of work, cost him so much time and pain, but it was all worth it when he could hold his baby girl in his arms and look into her eyes, his vision fully restored. It was worth the wait. 

Angel Reyes: You and Angel had made your New Year’s resolutions together, and working out more had been at the top of the list. You’d both agreed that the two of you should exercise more, and it made sense to do it together and motivate one another, but now that you were here... You could see that it was a mistake. Watching a shirtless, sweaty Angel lift weights, his low grunts filling the air, was beyond distracting. It was erotic. He grinned at you, a dumbbells slung behind his gleaming shoulders. You wanted to lick the beads of sweat trailing down his tattoos. “You good, baby?” He teased, an eyebrow raised at you. You swallowed, your eyes unable to look away from the perfection that was Angel Reyes. “I--good. Yup. Good,” you said, watching the bulge in Angel’s shorts as he squatted down. “Mm, very well constructed sentence there,” he said, straightening up and placing the dumbbell on the rack. You stared at his ass as he turned around, and you felt your skin flush with the heat of desire. It should be illegal for one man to look so good. After all, this was a public place and here Angel was just being a fucking piece of art. “Babe, stop staring, you’re gonna make me blush,” he teased you, “Shh,” you dug into your pocket and pulled out your phone, “Don’t mind me. Keep working.” “Are you taking pictures of me?” “Maybe,” you answered, biting your lip as you snapped another picture, “Keep working out, this is good inspiration.” He laughed, doing as you said. By the end of your session, Angel had worked up quite a sweat, and you had amassed an impressive amount of sexy photos of your man. All in all, it was a good workout. 

Miguel Galindo: There was nothing like the sight of Miguel in cartel mode. Every step, every glance, every twitch of his eyebrow turned you on. He stood behind his desk, both hands spread out over the papers and files that covered it, glaring at the men in the room. He was the very picture of power. You stood off to the die, summoned there to be a witness, your eyes fixated on your man. You watched the words spill from his mouth, you watched the men--powerful in their own right--visibly shrink as Miguel spoke. The topic of conversation wasn’t important to you; Miguel had all of your attention. You stared openly, your eyes going from his sinful mouth down to his large hands, watching them flex as he gestured over at the men. His eyes were hard, eyebrows furrowed as he showed his displeasure with his employees. Distantly, you heard their apologizes and his acceptance of them, but really, all you could do was drink in the sight that was your husband. He was in his element, as much as Miguel wanted to go legit, and as well suited to that world he was, he was a cartel man. It was in his blood. And it came naturally to him. You watched as he lifted his hand and pointed to the door; you could see the men scurry out from the corner of your eye, but your focus was on Miguel. He turned to you, a smirk growing on his kissable lips. “I can see what you’re thinking, mi amor,” he purred, “Why don’t you come over here and let me give you what you want?”

Nick Amaro: As soon as Nick saw you, he grabbed you. He held you tight, his eyes closing, visions of you hurt and afraid playing behind his eyelids. “I’m alright, Nick,” you assured him, whispering into the crook of his neck, “I’m alright...” He nodded, finally pulling back to have a look at you. There was blood on your face, and he reached out to wipe it, leaving a soft red smear on your cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again,” he huffed, his eyes boring into yours, “Never, okay?” “Nick,” you said carefully, running a hand through his hair, “you know I can’t promise that,” you watched his jaw clench, “if I’m the only thing between a perp and a victim, I’m going to stand in front f the victim, every time.” He closed his eyes again, trying not to see the truth in yours. “Nick,” you repeated his name until he opened his eyes again, “I’m fine. You had my back. Liv had my back. I’m safe, and so it that little girl.” You turned, taking his hand in yours. “Look,” you directed him gently. A few feet away, the little girl who’d been kidnapped was in the arms of her sobbing mother, safe and sound. The man who’d taken here was in the back of a bus, bleeding from the gunshot you’d given him. “We did that,” you told Nick, looking up at him, “Look at that girl. She’s the reason we do what we do. She’s the reason I can’t promise I won’t ever do this again.” He nodded, turning back to you and taking you in his arms. “I know,” he said, kissing your forehead, “Just... Next time, don’t leave my line of sight, okay? Can you at least do that?” You smiled, “I can do that.” 

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny looked like a god, Apollo in the flesh. He was bathed in light, the rays of the sun shining on his brown skin, his smile wide and warm. You stood on the beach, Jakes on one side of you, Charlie on the other, and you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were staring at Johnny. And really--who could blame you? He, Mike, and Briggs had just come to shore after catching a few waves, and Johnny was looking like a freaking dream. “Damn girl, stop drooling,” Briggs joked as he walked past you, taking Charlie’s hand and leading her away. Mike and Jakes laughed, following suit, and you watched, not at all concerned with the others, as Johnny approached you. “Wanna take a dip?” He asked. You shook your head, your hands immediately going to his chest, “Why are you like this?” “Like what?” “Like... this!” You stepped back, gesturing to his everything. “Look at you! You’re freaking glowing, you got the abs all out... Keep playing, and I’m gonna put a baby in you.” Johnny laughed, and the sight of him, skin glistening in the sunlight, water pooling in the deep crevices of his collarbones, had you clenching with desire. He leaned in close, his mouth right on the shell of your ear. “Since you like watching me so much, how ‘bout we go home, and we can go the bathroom, and you can watch me break you off in the reflection of the mirror, yeah?” You grabbed his hand, nearly running back to Graceland, eager to see what he had in store for you. 

Rio: You blinked, trying to test to see if you were dreaming. “R-Rio...” You gasped out. He stood in front of you, dressed in all black, a smirk on his lips. “Hey mama.” You jumped out of bed, but stopped yourself from running to him. He was dead. Rhea said he was dead. There hadn’t been a funeral, but she said he was dead and now... “I know,” he said, anticipating your thoughts, “I know. But, just look at me. Look at me. I’m here.” You looked at him; he had a beard now, and a nose ring, but it was him. He was real. He was here. “What...?” “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you everything,” he answered your unasked question, “really, I shouldn’t even be here, but... I had to see you, baby. I had to see you.” You rushed towards him, burying your face in his chest as he held you. It had been months since you’d seen Rio, but it felt like a lifetime. You hadn’t really registered, until this moment, how much you had missed seeing him: his soft lips, his shorn hair and low lidded eyes. He was speaking to you, whispering that he was home now, and you pulled back to look at him. He looked different, harder, and you could see a change in him. “What happened to you?” You asked, your voice coming out in a whisper. “Remember the housewife?” “With the big boobs?” He chuckled, shaking his head at you fondly. “Yeah. She put three slugs in me,” he explained, and you looked him over, imagining the bullet wounds that you knew were under those dark clothes. “I’m good, mama. But I’m pissed,” he leaned down and kissed you, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips moved against yours, “so you and me are gonna get justice.” 

Bonus Boy

Chris Zapata: Baseball had never been your favorite sport. You’d found it boring and tedious. And then you started dating Chris and suddenly, you were standing up in the stands every week, screaming and cheering as he played. You sighed dreamily, your chin in your hand as you watched Zap on the field. He wasn’t really do much of anything--actually, he (and Maz, and Barone, and Vinny) were all watching Murray throw a fit in the outfield. But God, did Chris look good. It was getting late, and the sun was setting, and it seemed like the very last rays of the day were clinging to Chris’ skin, placing a halo around him. You could see from your spot in the stands the sweat glistening on his skin, could see his eyes widen as Murray threw his bat at the score board, and you sighed again. You couldn’t even be sure if the team was winning or not (Murray’s tantrum suggested they were not), all you knew was that Chris looked like an angel. Your heart stopped in your chest when Chris’ eyes met yours, and you watched a smirk grow on his lips. He knew you were watching him. He knew you couldn’t look away. The sight of him like this--in his element--made you weak. You couldn’t wait for the game to be over so you could inspect your man at a much closer angle. 

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#bre's boys #bre's boys preference #billy russo x reader #logan delos x reader #jax teller x reader #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo x reader #nick amaro x reader #johnny tuturro x reader #rio x reader #chris zapata x reader

[hairandbeautysalon]

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[strandedhaze]

ONE : MEET NAOMI

FULL NAME: naomi june cheng-bradshaw. PREFERRED NAME: naomi. NICKNAME(S): most people call her nomi, noms, nao, nai and similar variations, elijah calls her nana. DATE OF BIRTH: may 3rd, 1994. GENDER: cis female. PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her/hers. ORIENTATION: heterosexual. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single in main verse. RELIGION: she’s not a particularly religious person. OCCUPATION: press manager for honda racing corporation. CURRENT RESIDENCE: madrid, spain ; she owns a house in the prestigious la finca neighbourhood.

TWO : NAOMI’S BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: marina bay, singapore. NATIONALITY: singaporean. LINGUISTICS: english is her native language but, asides from it, she speaks spanish, portuguese, italian, french, mandarin chinese and japanese. in some languages, she’s more proficient than others. for instance, she speaks spanish just as well as she speaks english. her spoken japanese is nearly flawless and though she can read and comprehend the language, she can’t write. she’s still getting around to dive deeper into mandarin chinese.  EDUCATION: she attended the massachusetts institute of technology - also known as MIT - and she has a double degree in business analytics and management. CRIMINAL RECORD: clean. BIRTH ORDER: first. FATHER: charles bradshaw was born on february 23rd, 1971 in windsor, england. he is an investment banker who resides in between hong kong and dubai.   MOTHER: sonoya cheng was born on july 5th, 1971 in sentosa island, singapore. she is a real estate tycoon who resides in between toronto, abu dhabi and singapore.  SISTER(S): none. BROTHER(S): edward cheng-bradshaw was born on january 15th, 1997 in marina bay, singapore. he is a software developer manager and resides in san francisco, california. OTHER RELEVANT FAMILY: constance mizuno, sister-in-law. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: naomi is single. CHILDREN: none so far. FRIENDS: to be done. EXES: andrea pagani, marco ricci and aleix martin. PETS: none so far.

THREE : GET UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

HEIGHT: 5′7″ ( 174 cm ). WEIGHT: her weight oscillates between 127 lbs ( 57.6 kg ) and 134 lbs ( 61 kg ). BODY TYPE AND BUILD: she is naturally slim - courtesy of genetics and her fast metabolism - but, despite that fact, she still has a willowy frame. by no means, does she have a hourglass shape with a big bust, tiny waist and thick thighs but with a good, healthy diet and a workout plan ( that she, often, forgets to follow ) consisting of some weight training and fun classes, naomi has still managed to achieve a shape she’s comfortable with. she has particularly long legs and, thanks to all the hot yoga and pilates classes, she holds a rather toned overall body. EYE COLOR: brown. EYESIGHT: she has perfect eyesight though when the work load increases, you’ll find her reaching for her glasses in order to give her eyes a break. she also wears blue light blocking glasses whenever she’s working on a computer. HAIR COLOR: dark brown. HAIR STYLE: her hair is, has always been - and will always be, according to her - long, hitting the middle of her back, at worst, when she goes for a trim to keep its healthy condition and it has a natural wavy texture which naomi has learned to love. styling wise, it rarely gets too eventful... during the season, she’ll throw it on a ponytail or a bun for the race weekends and allow it to dry into its natural texture on the remaining work days. if she’s attending an event of sorts or going out to celebrate, she’ll straighten it or go for a nice blowout. DOMINANT HAND: right. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: her lips or, possibly, their plumpness, her legs that often seem endless, her tan complexion and how it makes her dark eyes and hair standout, and for the rare occasions when it makes an appearance, her smile. SCARS AND MARKS: nothing outstanding - she has your average scars and marks here and there. TATTOOS: she has a lotus mandala on the inside of her right wrist, a symbol of enlightenment for her, as well as a way to symbolize all the growth she achieved throughout her life.  PIERCINGS: regular lobes. VOICECLAIM: nicole elise. ACCENT AND INTENSITY: having moved out and grown up in london, naomi developed a thick london accent which she never knew how intense it was up until she found herself in massachusetts. the four years spent there, softened the intensity of the british accent and the nearly six years in spain also played a part when washing away what once was a proper londoner accent so, these days, it’s hard to identify what accent she has exactly. it’s more of a mixture than anything specific.  ALLERGIES: cherries and insect stings, particularly bee stings. PHOBIAS AND FEARS: extremely deep waters and though it’s not a phobia, she gets really nervous when she’s driving over bridges. MENTAL ILLNESSES: none so far. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: none so far. SCENT THEY WEAR: it varies depending on a lot of factors, such as season of the year, time of the day, occasion and, above all, her personal mood. during summer, you’ll often catch her wearing soleil blanc by tom ford or replica beach walk by maison margiela, and during summer nights, she'll wear sundaze by byredo. for fancy events, her go-to is bewitching yasmine by penhaligon’s, same way her go-to for nights out with friends is slow dance by byredo. whenever she has an important business meeting, she’ll wear cuir celeste by ex nihilo, simply because in naomi’s opinion, the scent is the definition of boss bitch and throughout race weekends, she’ll go for rose of no man’s land by byredo. le labo’s patchouli 24 and maison margiela’s replica by the fireplace are generally the scents she wears through winter. for date nights where she actually cares to put some effort in and is actually interested in the person, she’ll specifically wear reine de nuit by byredo or santal 33 by le labo. ALCOHOL USE: socially, she does. SMOKING: she doesn’t smoke. OTHER NARCOTICS USE: no. INDULGENT FOOD: she prefers to eat healthy but there’s no denying that every once in a while, she needs to indulge in some soul food.  SPLURGE SPENDING: it happens every now and again, but she’s mostly a responsible buyer. GAMBLING: no. ADDICTIONS AND VICES: none.

FOUR : DIG DEEPER

CAN THEY DRIVE? yes, she can drive. CAN THEY COOK AND BAKE? yes and yes. CAN THEY CHANGE A FLAT TIRE? yes. CAN THEY TIE A TIE? yes. CAN THEY SWIM? yes. CAN THEY RIDE A BICYCLE? yes. CAN THEY JUMP START A CAR? yes. CAN THEY BRAID HAIR? yes. CAN THEY PICK A LOCK? yes. EXTROVERTED OR INTROVERTED? extroverted. DISORGANIZED OR ORGANIZED? organized, and she hates when things get messy. CLOSE OR OPEN MINDED? open minded. CALM OR ANXIOUS? calm. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? healthy in-between and always depends on the situation. OUTSPOKEN OR RESERVED? outspoken. LEADER OR FOLLOWER? she's a leader, all through and through. OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC? optimistic, mostly. TRADITIONAL OR MODERN? modern. HARD-WORKING OR LAZY? hard-working. CULTURED OR UNCULTURED? cultured. LOYAL OR DISLOYAL? loyal. FAITHFUL OR UNFAITHFUL? faithful. NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD? honestly, it all depends on the time of the year. HEAVY OR LIGHT SLEEPER? light sleeper. COFFEE OR TEA? tea over coffee, these days. DAY OR NIGHT? night. TAKING BATHS OR SHOWERS? baths. COCA COLA OR PEPSI? none. CATS OR DOGS? both. NETFLIX OR CINEMA? netflix. SHOWS OR MOVIES? both. LAPTOP OR GAMING CONSOLE? laptop. HEALTHY OR JUNK FOOD? healthy. ICE CREAM OR FROZEN YOGURT? ice cream. PIZZA OR HAMBURGER? pizza. LOLLIPOPS OR GUMMY WORMS? gummy worms. BEACH OR POOL? beach. SNOWBALLS FIGHTING OR ICESKATING? iceskating. LITERATURE OR SCIENCE? science. HISTORY OR ART? art. CHOCOLATE BARS OR COTTON CANDY? chocolate bars. XBOX OR PLAYSTATION? playstation. FACE-TO-FACE OR PHONE INTERACTIONS? face-to-face interactions. DRAMA OR SCI-FI? sci-fi. HORROR OR COMEDY? horror.

FIVE : NAOMI’S LIKES & DISLIKES

FAVORITE ACTIVITY: yoga. FAVORITE ANIMAL: giraffe. FAVORITE BOOK: everything i know about love by dolly alderton. FAVORITE QUOTE: ❝ when you’re tired, go slowly. go quietly. go timidly. but do not stop. ❞ — heidi priebe. FAVORITE COLOR(S): it’s a very specific beige/tan colour, a champagne type of shade.  FAVORITE DESIGNER: maison christian dior and acne studios. FAVORITE CUISINE: singaporean cuisine, all through and through. there are little things she’s more passionate about than her national cuisine, she often says no one does food like singapore.  FAVORITE DISH(ES): hainanese chicken rice, laksa, hokkien fried mee and dumplings. FAVORITE DRINK: matcha ginger latte and bubble tea.  FAVORITE FLOWER(S): lotus flower. FAVORITE GEM: diamond. FAVORITE HOLIDAY: new years. FAVORITE MOVIE: currently, it must be parasite by bong joon-ho.  FAVORITE MUSIC GENRE: she doesn’t have a favorite music genre. naomi listens to a little bit of everything because for her, it’s more about the songs and artists than the genre itself. FAVORITE SONG(S): xo by beyoncé. GO TO KARAOKE SONG: kiss it better by rihanna. FAVORITE SCENT(S): the scent of gasoline, melting chocolate and freshly baked goods. FAVORITE TELEVISION SHOW(S): la casa de papel. FAVORITE SPORTS: motogp, formula1 and football. SPORTS TEAM THEY SUPPORT: real madrid. FAVORITE EMOJI: probably the 💅🏽 though it’s not what she uses the most. FAVORITE WEATHER: she likes that type of weather at the end of a summer day, when it’s warm but not too much and you walk around the beach feeling that soft breeze of air hitting you, and the day is settling down and all that remains is a wash of what the weather was throughout the day. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR: summer. FAVORITE PLACE(S): a close tie between her childhood home in marina bay, singapore and her current home in madrid. she loves the memories and how much singapore grounds her, how it freshens up her ties to the culture and reminds her of better days. at the same time, she also loves madrid. the people, the culture and everything in between. both bring her a sense of peace she’s very fond of. SUPERPOWER THEY WISH THEY HAD: teleportation.  VACATION DESTINATION: if she was forced to choose, coppenhagen or amsterdam for a solo, self-reflection trip and anywhere in japan or thailand just to unwind.

#tbt / naomi cheng-bradshaw.

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[originaldetectivesheep]

Tales of the Missing 14 - A Last Song For The Road

There is a difference between how far we do go, and how far we can go: in an age when going around the world means only paying several expensive jet-powered bus fares, who is the adventurer and who is not is not immediately clear.

A Last Song For The Road

Cathy brushed a long strand of hair out of her face and looked down at her drink.  "I think it's amazing," she said.  "I don't think that I could ever do something like that – just go off somewhere that far away, just like that.  It's – you're – it's something really special." She looked up at Dave again, trying not to look too interested – trying not to look too obviously interested.

He smiled back, that rogueish smile that probably had girls like her at his feet everywhere he went, Beijing to Berlin, leaning against the jukebox. "Naw – it's not much.  You see what you got to do, and then you pull up and do it, I guess.  It's what I do – I'm not sure that I know how to do anything else."  He took another slug out of his beer.  "But, I can't say that I don't like getting home once in a bit; the road takes a lot out of you, so I want to make the most of the time I got back here – back with my people, where I come from."  He was looking straight at her, straight through her, and Cathy knew that even if he didn't feel quite the same way she did – and that wasn't a foregone conclusion either – he would let her feel the way she felt, give her what she wanted, let her have him tonight.

Dave smiled again, and nodded over at the jukebox.  "It's getting a little late – let's do one more song before I got to go."  Cathy nodded looking quickly down at her phone, scanning the messages from Marcia and Tess back at the bar, running commentary on the stream of her life, and from somewhere over by the door, someone yelled back at them: "Dave, yo!  Uber's here!"

"Goddamnit," Dave said, and when Cathy looked up he was already moving, pushing his way through the crowd, and she took a step, reaching out after him, and then the jukebox caught behind her, and she stopped dead still, the slow turbid intro of Seether's "Fine Again" boiling up out of the speakers behind her.  This was how he left – this was how he went out, out onto the road – this was what he left her with.

No.  Barely as soon as the distorted guitars came in to give her a kick in the back, Cathy was moving, pushing her way out, out past the door guy and into the dark of Norwich Street, staring after the taillights of his ride sinking off into the dark.  Brakes squealed next to her, and Cathy spun in place, something in her eyes freezing the taxi driver silent, even as he hauled himself out the window to scream at her for blocking the road.  "FOLLOW THAT UBER!"

"You got it, lady," the driver said, kicking the passenger door open, and Cathy was in before it barely smacked all the way out, the taxi grumpling out into gear and leaping ahead barely before she had the chance to pull it closed.  It couldn't end like this – it definitely couldn't end just like this.

"I – lady, all I said was I saw him," the cashier said, wondering whether she should be shifting closer to the silent alarm.  People got weird in airports all the time, but this was the first time that she'd even heard of someone flipping out and going ham at a pretzel stand over a runaway boyfriend.  "You don't got to show a boarding pass to buy a pretzel – I don't know where he was going."

"Please," Cathy said, knuckles white where she was gripping the cash register with both hands. "Please – anything.  Did he say anything – anything at all?"

The cashier leaned back.  "I – miss, a lot of people come through here.  National's a big airport.  Lot of people come by want to buy a pretzel – we kind of famous for DC.  I can't remember everybody."

"But you remembered him – his description," Cathy said, pressing in, leaning over the counter.  "You remembered that much – can't you remember anything he said?  Anything at all?"

"I – wait – wait – that was it."  The cashier blinked, and straightened up.  "That's right – I try to upsell him on the drink, you know, and he said naw, I got to get a beer, and that's why I was here, cuz where I'm going they don't got beer and if I'm eat a pretzel I got to have a beer with it.  That's it – he got to be going to like Dubai or shi–, or something, cuz they can't got beer there."  She took a deep breath.  "Is that okay?  I'm serious, it's all I got.  So can you –"

Cathy was staring down at her phone.  "Not Dubai – not right away. The window is wrong – if he was here and gone an hour ago it has to be Atatürk – Turkey.  Regular flights – but I'd have to change my ticket – I'll miss his – and the next one won't be –"  She was talking to herself, mumbling as she walked away, eyes wild.

"Miss – goddamn – you gonna block my line, pitch a fit, and you ain't even buy a pretzel?  Goddamnit!  What the hell?"  But it was no use: Cathy was already long gone, lost again into the press of the terminal.

"No, listen," the bartender said in clipped Dutch-accented English, "this is a bar and not an information bureau.  You want to sit and talk about your bad times, you buy a beer and I will stand here and listen.  You want a beer and not to talk, cooler is behind you, you pay, I open your bottle, you go away.  You not want to buy anything, you go away."  Cathy folded her arms, trying to work out how to deal with this aspect of Turkish customer service as Atatürk flowed and streamed around the bar, an island in the middle of the terminal walkways.

"I tried at the information booth," she started at last, "but I don't know his last name – and this is a big airport.  It must be like half the world's going through here – I can't find him myself in the middle of everyone from Europe, Africa, and Asia all together."

The bartender shrugged.  "Not my problem.  You want a beer, you can buy; information, not my problem."

"I can't buy something in every place he might have been through – there's not that many bars, but I'd still get totally drunk."

The bartender glared.  "Still, it's my problem how?"

Cathy thought for a second.  "If you can help me – if you saw him, if you can help me find him, I'll buy something.  How about that?  If you can't, it won't be long – I promise."

The bartender raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.  "All right," he said after a second.  "All right; I'll bet you my time, against your beer money.  So what about it?  Any other description, besides the white American guy, middle height, middle build, blue eyes, light brown hair with goatee?"

Cathy thought for a second.  She didn't know that much about Dave – couldn't tell what clothes he might have changed from the bar to New Haven to DC to here.  But –

"He – he likes Seether," she said, tentatively, not sure that it would help, but the bartender's jaw dropped open.

"That guy!  Him!  Yeah, he was here!"  He leaned forward, hands on the bar.  "We were playing Die Antwoord, and he gave me shit about it – told me to put on Seether, a good band if we were going to have to play bands from South Africa.  I mean, I didn't change the music because we can't, and to fuck with him, but he kept on – how it's all the electronic in Hong Kong, and how he thought he wouldn't have to put up with that here in Turkey on the way, and, like fuck him, but isn't that it?"

"Hong Kong – there's a one-stop through Abu Dhabi – open seat – thirty minutes – I could make it if I run – but, no, that's a terminal change, I'd have to take the bus –"  Cathy was moving, staring down at her phone, halfway out of the bar, and then the bartender's cough cracked like a gunshot.  She jumped, then shamefacedly picked up an Efes Light out of the cooler.  She did owe him, but it was just the one question – it was all right to try and get out of this on the cheap.

"Forty-five lira please," the bartender said, grabbing the beer out of her hands and cracking the cap off with his church key.  Cathy remembered the sign from the exchange counter and did the math.  Nine dollars. For a Turkish Bud Light.  Holy fuck.  She pushed a stool out and sat down, handing her card across the counter, trying to come to terms with the prices as much as to prepare herself for what was to come.

"No, I am very sorry, miss," the border guard said, perfectly cool because at least three Westerners had to have this talk every single day, "but you can't transfer to the Shenzhen subway at Futian stop if you don't have a Chinese visa.  I know it's the same subway card, but there's still a border here.  Please, go back to Admiralty, then go to city hall and make a visa application if you need to cross the border."

Cathy's eyes flicked back and forth wildly, her passport crumpling between her fingers and the desk.  "But – but – if I can go, I'll find him – I'll be quick.  Look, isn't Shenzhen one of those 72-hour cities?  Where you can get the instant visa if you have proof you're leaving?"

The border guard shook her head, wondering exactly where these people came from who thought "I'll be quick, just in and out" would work to get in to a country that made people show their passport to buy an inter-city bus ticket.  "Yes, miss, there is a 72-hour visa – for people who arrive by air, and have proof of international connecting flight.  We cannot give this visa at the subway border crossing.  Please – just go make normal application.  I can see you have a hard time, and I don't want to call the police.  You can do it – you can do it the normal way, and everything will be fine.  Please."

Cathy pulled back, her passport spindling in her fist.  "Right. Right.  If I have to – thank you.  But isn't there some other way – wasn't there a same day visa, a visa with a lot of conditions and you have to find it from exactly the right place – something like that, but you could get it in an hour if you could and then get across the border the same day?"  She was drawn up, hesitant, like she knew this was a last throw of the dice.

The border guard furrowed her eyebrows behind her glasses.  "Miss, this is not the Vietnam War days any more.  We're not any more a British colony.  We have rules, and rules are followed – we don't have the same-day visa since fifteen years.  Don't think, just anything goes in Hong Kong, that you can do anything you want.  Just go Admiralty, make the application, wait a few days and go Disneyland or Ladies Market if get bored waiting."  She snorted and slammed her stamp into the stamp pad.  "Next!"

Cathy backed up, away, down the chute back to the Lok Ma Chau tracks.  It would be hard – it would be hard waiting, having to track him down in Shenzhen across the border, having to learn up in Chinese waiting for the visa to even communicate with people over there – but she'd come this far, and gotten this close, and there was no way on earth that she was going to stop now.

"Is – is this all?"  Cathy wasn't quite sure how skepticism scanned in Chinese, even after a week and a half of constantly dealing with Chinese speakers unsure what the hell she was doing here, alone, on a mission, from Shenzhen to Xiamen to Fuzhou to Ningbo, to the Nanjing cutoff and finally to Qingdao, but not to Yantai, not yet, not tonight.  She nodded anyway; it was too late and she was too tired and she still had to hunt up a room at one of the sketchy-looking hotels around the train station to collapse in for the night.

"Yes. This is all.  Sorry it's a lot: I have train tomorrow, and then ferry from Yantai to Dalian." The clerk shrugged, because this wasn't really her problem, after all, and started baling up Cathy's energy drinks and cup-noodle pots and snacks-that-didn't-look-like-flooring-tiles-marinated-in-chili-oil into doubled-up plastic bags.

"Ni hui chu DaLian ma?" someone asked, and Cathy turned to look behind her at the cluster of middle-aged fishermen sitting around a table, drinking Laoshan beer out of long green bottles and stubbing cigarettes out in an empty sardine can.  "There isn't a train until the morning; come over and have a drink!  Lailailai!"

Cathy adjusted her bags, unsure how to answer; she wasn't going to get any closer to Dave tonight, but no matter how fast she'd adapted, how much better her Chinese'd gotten, sitting around drinking in a 7-11 with a bunch of old guys was maybe still a cultural bridge too far. "What're you going to Dalian for?" another one of them asked.  "Russian?  Got Russian friends?"

She shook her head.  "No; I go to Harbin – from Dalian to Harbin. I – I look for somebody."

The youngest of them, someone's kid or nephew, lifted his close-buzzed head off the far end of the table, bleary-eyed, blinking.  "If you're going to Harbin, why go to Dalian?  Why not just take the fast train?"

Cathy took a step forward, curious, confused.  "The fast train?  I ask, about trains, but the fast trains from here only go back to Nanjing.  Or, I didn't understand – I can't read, and sometimes it's hard to listen."

The first speaker shook his head, smiling, and beckoned her in with a downward flip of his hand.  "The fast trains going north are from the new train station; come over, we'll tell you how to get there.  Lai, lai!" Cathy nodded and bustled her shopping around, pulling out a Qingpi from her own provisions and popping the cap off with a stray chopstick as she sat down.

"That one's cousin is a tax driver," the guy continued as Cathy took a first drink from her beer, pointing across the table at the balding one, who stood up and shuffled back to the drinks shelf, grinning a manic grin.  "He can take you to the new train station; there should be a subway up there, but it's not done yet, and if you can't read, you can't take the bus."  He raised up his beer and clicked it against Cathy's.  "Cheers! Where is your hotel?"

She shook her head.  There was welcoming, and then there was dangerous. "Around.  I'll find a place.  This is a fast trip."

"Rose Phoenix Inn will have spare rooms," the nephew said, fumbling at another Laoshan and not getting the cap off.  "You don't want to go over too late because it's, uh, guest friendly, but you can stay a little, drink with us!"  He pushed a tin of what looked like oil-packed octopus across the table at Cathy.  "Try some!  It's good!"  She nodded, taking the chopsticks the first, graying fisherman handed her over from the counter, and was making appropriate yum noises on a first pinch of octopus when the balding guy came back with a handful of clear plastic cups and a quart bottle of baijiu.  Four cups, around the four of them at the table, the bottle empty and hers fullest.

The fishermen looked at her expectantly.  Cathy set her beer bottle down on the table with a clunk.  "Nimen xiang wo xia ba?" Are you guys trying to kill me?  But she picked up the cup anyway, drank it down anyway.  These guys were getting her a taxi – they were getting her a taxi to a faster train – they were getting her that much closer to Dave.

She'd checked the few hotels on the other side of the ridge first, by the train station, and after doing that climb Cathy was fairly sure that if Dave was registered on this side of Vladivostok, he wouldn't go hiking over it – it was worse than San Francisco, it was like you needed spikes and a climbing rope to go up the street – just to go out to the bar.  So this one looked promising – on the long bay side and not part of a hotel, small and snug and maybe not full of Russian sailors, or with just enough of them that Dave could feel like he could hold court like an international badass.  Cathy shoved through the wooden doors under the fancifully-carved ПОРТ РОЯЛ archboard, ignoring the confused bartender and thrice-confused Chinese marines and their domino game, because through the gloom inside she could see him – she couldn't mistake him: she had found him at last, at long last.

He was about to press a button on the jukebox, and she found her voice even as she got up to him to take him by the arm.  "Dave!" she said, "Dave – it's Cathy!  Cathy!"

He blinked, and his eyes widened, and he nearly fell over.  "But – I mean – we had a good time, but what – what are you doing here on the other side of the damn planet?"

Cathy drew herself up, hands folded in front of her.  "Because I couldn't leave it like that – I couldn't let you leave just like that – not without saying anything.  It wouldn't be right; it wouldn't be right for me, not for you, not for any of us."  She looked up.  "Dave, when you left – when you were called out and you drove out of Wortham, this close to out of my life, do you remember what you did – do you remember how you left?"

He blinked, unsure, unsure of the meaning, the meaning that he'd provoked to drag this woman, against all odds, nearly all the way around the world.  "I – I played a song on the jukebox.  Yeah. I put in to play some Seether, because I didn't think I'd have to go right away."

"Exactly!" Cathy sparked up, pressing close in on him.  "You played Seether!  You were perfect – you were so perfect – you were the best thing that's ever happened to me and then you had to go and play Seether in public!  WHAT IN THE DAMN HELL.  Dave, Seether is an awful, awful band.  They are bad, and dumb, and dumb-bad and bad-dumb – they're like if someone was listening to Puddle of Mudd and thought somehow, 'yes, but can we make it even worse'.  Seether is terrible: they make bad music for fat teenagers from Ohio who think wearing juggalo makeup would make them gay.  They are bad.  They are so, so, so fucking bad, and I had to find you – I had to prove it, prove it to myself that you hadn't hit it by accident, that your taste really was that bad and I really couldn't have anything nice ever."  Cathy wiped at the edge of her eye with the heel of her hand.

"But – they're not that bad – and – Russia, all the way to Russia?"  Dave was reeling.  Cathy folded her arms and glared.

"Yes. Yes they are.  And in public – while you were talking to me – seriously, someone has to take responsibility."  She took a deep breath.  "I hope you have the time to think over what you've done; when I found your hotel the clerk showed me that you were registered for the full week.  I'm on the next ferry to Japan tomorrow.  Don't talk to me."  She turned back to the bar. "Bratchik, Studyenoye podzhalste!" The barkeep opened the tap for her beer, shaking his head, and out the corner of her eye Cathy saw Dave reaching a five-ruble piece up for the jukebox.  "A ni Seether!"

further Tales of the Missing ...

#fiction #talesofthemissing

[blanchesaloon]

[powertrical]

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2 PACK UK Travel Adapter for Type G Plug:

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#travel adapter

[rememberlovehealing]

Hiiiii. I figured it's time for a re-introduction. We have so many new followers some may not know about the face behind the brand 😱 About me: My name is Michelle and I am the owner and designer of Remember Love 💕 Born in Miami 🌴 I have a beautiful 5 year old daughter and a pretty awesome hubby👨‍👩‍👧 ✨I graduated with my BS in Health Science including a specialty track in SLP. I am a Crystal Reiki Master. I got my Level 1 & 2 while living in Quito and obtained my Master level in Abu Dhabi, UAE. I travel...A LOT! I love traveling since I don't like to stay in one place for too long. I am crystal obsessed 🤗 . Let's see, I have a major sweet tooth, love documentaries, love my 2 doggies and love to cook but hate to clean 😜 Currently going through a whole hair journey from going to straighten everyday to loving my natural curls. My favorite color is purple and enjoying gardening. Im a Taurus with Scorpio Rising. Remember Love is my full time job 💕And that's me in a nutshell 🤗 My personal mission is to educate, inspire and offer healing when I can. I love creating with my hands and enjoy the fact that I can teach about crystals while doing it. Traveling allows me to learn new techniques and traditions that I can share with all of you. I also enjoy connecting with all of my followers so feel free to drop me a DM if you ever have a question or concern (I'm super nice 😙) That's it💖💖💖. Feel free to introduce yourself below ✌🏼. I would love to know where you are from what you are about 🤗 _______________________________________ #etsy #crystalhealer #crystalhealing #reikihealing #curlyhair #handmade #empath #selfie #palosanto #rljtribe #namaste #blog #blessed #quartz #love

#palosanto #crystalhealing #reikihealing #handmade #selfie #curlyhair #etsy #crystalhealer #rljtribe #namaste #quartz #blog #empath #blessed #love

[wroetominter]

Intrepid - ChrisMD Fanfiction - Chapter IV

#chrismd #chrismd fanfiction #fanfiction #Chris Dixon #christopher michael dixon #wroetominterintrepid

[harrv]

tagged by vany aka @magicalhalo wow ily tysm 😖😭💖💗💞

im on mobile so bear with me

A - age: 15

B - biggest fear: oblivion

C - current time: 7:27 pm

D - drink you had last: water

E - every day starts with…: wanting to get back to sleep (wtf same vany)

F - favorite song: uhm everything in divide atm (this too vany)

G - ghosts - are they real?: bithc im scared of ghosts wtf shut up

H - hometown: manila and batangas, philippines (i have two lmao bc i live abroad and half of my life is spent in manila but i’ll be back in the ph in less than 5 weeks for good and live in batangas for the rest of my life)

I - in love with: THE SHAPE OF YOU (me too vany!! 😖😣)

J - jealous of: people in my age achieving more stuff than i do lmao

K - killed someone?: no, and never

L - last time you cried: this afternoon @ class bc……my adviser was being a bithc and she literally humiliated in front of me in the class bc i did something so small and if u look at it, i pretty much didn’t do anything, she was just being so petty.

M - middle name: nichole

N - number of siblings: 3

O - one wish: ot4 come back!!!! (i also have to agree with u vany lmao)

P - person you last called/texted: my crush lmao (its all for school stuff *rip me*) (plus, she is kinda with someone , *another rip me*)

Q - questions you’re always asked: will you ever straighten your hair? (atm->) what will you be taking at senior high school? what school are u gonne be in? are you really be back in the philippines?

R - reasons to smile: harry styles, girls, roses, dogs, and aga raf (aka lourrious)’s everyday snaps :’) i love u The bottle™! 💘😭😭

S - song you last sang: what do i know by ed 👌😖😣👏😭

T - time you woke up: 3 am (that’s daily)

U - underwear color: brown

V - make up a V: i wanna go to abu dhabi and dubai

W - worst habits: forgetful? is that a habit

X - x-rays you’ve had: on my ankle only

Y - your favorite food: idk? there’s so MANY

Z - zodiac sign: taurus 🐂🐂🐂

(i agree so much with Vany wtf ily we are so alike)

i’m tagging @lourrious baby, @fluffyau, @bloglaurel711, @datalienboi, @latte-louis, @sugarbabykink, @roseylouie, and @rosegoldeyelids 💖💞💗💘💟💝🌹

#me #thank u again van van 🌹🌹🌹 #ask meme #tag meme

[johnsmith216]

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