#Marshal of Champagne

[dreamconsumer]

Geoffrey of Villehardouin (1150–1213) was a French knight and historian who participated in and chronicled the Fourth Crusade. He is considered one of the most important historians of the time period.

[ciderbird]

had a weird dream that there was a tv show set in the napoleonic wars and it was switching back and forth between the russian and the french court storylines but the russian one was filmed like a serious drama with alexander constantly grappling with guilt and responsibility knowing any wrong move can cost him his life and then it would just cut to napoleon having a 19th century equivalent of a frat party with the marshals that’s filmed like an OFMD episode

[mistydeyes]

hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react

she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment

big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)

AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3

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summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me." 

"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.

Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.

Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."

With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.

"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.

"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction. 

Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.

[twohearts-hs]

Always & Forever Seven - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 3.7k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis;: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, Drugs, Abuse, Smut & Angst. More warnings will come throughout the series.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

Marshall heard those words over the phone before the line ended. He could not get a single word out. He could not fight her on this, but she made it clear.

They could not be friends anymore.

A piece of him wanted to go to her house at that very moment, but it was two in the morning and secondly, his daughters were home. Someone needed to be home.

She came into his life just as fast as she left.

However, he needed to fight for her. He needed to talk to her. However, she never answered the door or her phone.

Then there was Paul who suggested that he did not get involved. For his reputation sake…as Jake had a bad one and he did not need that on his radar.

However, he mourned losing his friend. His doll.

-

September 2012

It was officially her final year. Y/N was graduating in the spring, and she could not wait. Elated did not even cover her feelings nor did thrill, excited or even happy. She felt successful. She felt accomplished.

She was the first one to go to university in her family. A family of trades and business owners, but none went to university.

Y/N made a name for herself.

However, a piece of her did mourn the relationship she lost with Marshall. She missed him…terribly but Jake…he was the love of her life.

She loved him so much.

That night happened once, and Jake promised never to do it again. What she later learnt was he was high. He did a line of cocaine…a few lines. Jake told her it was to get creativity for the album. However, all it did was break her heart.

-

October 2012

Jake’s album was released and it was a rave. It was the release party and just like how the album was dropped, so was their relationship to the public.

Everyone knew of Velvet Concord, they knew of Jake and of course, they knew of his girlfriend. Jake bought her this beautiful dress for the release party. It was long and tight, but silk and beautiful with straps and pushed up her breasts. Y/N felt beautiful in her heels and her hair half up.

However, as she made her rounds at the release party, she could not help but frown as she spotted Jake talking to a blonde with big breasts and an ass. She watched from the corner as she touched him, kissing his cheek before handing something to him. It was small baggie and Y/N instantly knew what it was.

She turned around and walked out to the balcony. Drugs. He was doing drugs again. The last time he did drugs he hit her…

How would she get out of this now?

It was a house of celebrities, champagne and coke…

Jake was doing coke.

She watched him from afar, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke away. He sat there with his buddies and that blonde, chatting and talking as they did a line and chugged the flute of champagne back.

This was new to her. She had never in her life seen this or believed she would be in this situation.

However, the way he did that line it was so natural to him. A second sense as if it was not his first rodeo. Jake did drugs…

Rock and roll life, she guessed.

However, as she stood in the corner with her dress and a jean jacket, she held her drink tighter bringing it to her lips. Watching and observing the show in front of him.

His brothers sat there too, and they joined.

Y/N graduated from champagne to whiskey the minute she knew he was going to do drugs. Her brows furrowed as she watched her boyfriend enjoy his high as he chatted with his friends and laughed. Y/N was in disbelief.

“You know they say,” a voice said from beside her, “when a woman drinks, she is either trying to get rid of her problems or trying to create them. But, when she drinks whiskey, she has stories.” Y/N listened, hearing the thick accent laced in the sultry voice.  

Slowly, Y/N turned to see who this stranger was beside her.

Blonde was the first thing she noticed. Tall, thin, dark eyeliner and a pearl-like smile. She was beautiful. With blue ocean eyes that were filled with wonder and adventure. They welcomed her with just a glance. Her voice was calm like a hello sent from heaven to soothe one’s anger in that moment.

Y/N never had seen this stranger before but she was breathless…and Y/N was speechless. She wore a black suit, but no top so her breasts hung free and was simply covered by the blazer. She had a flute of champagne in her hand.

“Florence,” she said, “but call me Flo.”

“Y/N,” she said. Flo was tall nearing five foot ten.

“Are you a rockstar, Y/N?”

She shook her head.

“Shame, you could be one. You are here so what are you?” Flo asked, grinning.

However, her identity changed in that moment. “I am an artist,” is all she said in response.

“Then you are a rockstar in your own creative terms.”

Flo was a fresh breath of air and when Y/N looked at her, the world stopped for a moment, and she felt peace.

Florence…Florence who? She had an accent…Dutch…German? It was a Germanic language of some sort.

“Are you?” Y/N replied.

“Am I a rockstar?” she smirked. “I am a bassist and you are an artist. So tell me, Y/N, who is your muse?”

Y/N looked at Jake in the living room, still smiling and laughing. Who was her muse? Never had she drawn Jake. She never did. She only drew the same face and body since she met him…

“His name is Marshall,” she whispered.

She smiled and then chuckled, lighting her own smoke. “Marshall is your muse, but you’re with the guitarist,” she slyly said.

“How did you know?”

“The look of betrayal on your face when he was doing the line. You know it is not the first time Jake has done it,” she hummed.

She knew him…She knew his name.

Y/N’s brows furrowed trying to figure out how she may know Jake.

“His band opened for my band on our last tour,” Flo said. “We partied a lot. Jake partied a lot. Fucked a lot of girls too,” she told her. Flo’s tone was harsh, with no sugar coating. “Y/N, he won’t stop. It’s the life of the road. The lifestyle. Rock and roll, baby.”

“He is with me though,” Y/N whispered.

“He may be your boyfriend, but he’s still a rockstar with a coke addiction.”

“He is not addicted-“

“He is good at hiding.”

Betrayal was all she felt as she looked at the beauty next to her. A lot has happened in this relationship; however, she learnt the truth. He was an addict. Y/N took a deep breath and then looked at the woman beside her.

“It isn’t just coke, is it?” Y/N whispered.

“We live a life we are not proud about,” she mused.

Y/N glanced at them again, through the glass to see her boyfriend with his bandmates and the women around them, leaning down and touching them. He had a broad smile across his face, chuckling and throwing his drink back.

Maybe Florence was right…rock and roll does change people and somewhere between the then and now, her man was changing into someone she did not recognise.

The emotions hit her faster than she thought, analysing the man she loved in the distance. Y/N felt Flo’s fingers graze her shoulder as she brushed her hair away.

Suddenly, the pity turned into anger.

Anger…consumed her like a wave taking the shore, stripping the beach to become wet and mucky… The problem with anger is that it gets a hold on you. It did not matter that she had a few drinks, but she was not herself now. Jake was different. Jake hurt her. Was it purposeful? She did not know, but Jake was not the Jake she fell for.

He was Jake Keough, the lead guitarist of this generation’s up-and-coming rock band. Worldwide known, rich with connections across the globe. Riffs so unique, he was creating modern age music…a new sound.

Anger becomes her boss, she got the unintended consequences. Y/N turned to the blonde woman and smiled.

“Thank you.”

Y/N pulled her phone out and opened the contact of the person she needed the most right now. His name was on the screen, and she pressed the button.

Unblock…call…

She placed the phone next to her ear as she turned to look out the balcony.

“Y/N?” his voice came through. It was rushed and haste, trying to see if she was there.

“I fucked up, Marshall,” she stated, “like really badly.”

“Where are you?”

Y/N told him the address.

“Be there soon.”

Then the line went. She turned to the blonde who smiled.

“Who do you love more? Marshall or Jake? Because of the way you said his name, sweetie it was dripping with honey.”

Who did she love? Y/N was a damn basket case at this moment, but she needed to get out of Jake’s life. She was just stuck. It clicked…

She was in a toxic relationship.

-

Marshall had not heard from Y/N for a few weeks. It was nearly eleven at night when his phone lit up with her name.

She was calling him…His sweet doll was calling him which meant she was in trouble.

He pulled up the address and instantly saw the paparazzi and the cameras. His heart sunk slightly but he needed to go to her. He needed to save her. He needed his girl. Marshall threw his hood over his head as he got out of the car, hand in front of his face he pushed through the cameras to the party.

Y/N spotted him as soon as he entered. His eyes scanned the crowd till he found her and she instantly rushed to him.

“We need to go now,” she said to him once he was within arm’s reached, “before he notices I am gone.”

Marshall quickly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her through the crowd and back into the streets. Y/N ducked her head as cameras began to flash. Marshall’s arm wrapped tighter around her, pulling her closer and trying to block her face as they got into the car.

Once the door slammed, he looked at her and she looked at him too and instantly they hugged.

“I missed you,” he whispered in her ear before pulling away.

“Don’t take me home, please,” she whispered, “he will come find me.”

Y/N needed him, and nothing will stop him because…

He loved her and she loved him without even realising it.

Marshall pulled out into the traffic as he drove back to his place. His hand found her thigh, but Y/N quickly pulled away. She stayed quiet as they drove.

“Are you going to explain the phone call?”

“We could not be friends because of Jake,” she whispered ashamed.

“He is controlling you now. Distancing you from your friends. I am not fucking psychologist but that is a symptom of an abusive relationship.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I know.”

He glanced over to see her head against the window.

“I am sorry,” she whispered, “for the phone call. I miss you too.”

He smiled. “What is he doing to you?” he whispered. “Is he…hurting you? Because if he, I will fucking kill him,” he barked. “If he laid a hand on you…”

What does she tell him? The truth perhaps but she could not. She had to figure this out for herself.

“No,” she said, “he is just controlling.”

He nodded but sighed. “Please do not do that again. Please do not call or…” he sighed, “You’re my best friend,” he whispered, “do not let any dick get between us, please.”

She nodded looking over to him and seeing him clench the steering wheel.

“You’re my world, Y/N.”

“Likewise, my muse,” she whispered.

-

Marshall pulled up to his house, parked the car and opening the door for her. Y/N looked at her phone seeing several missed messages from Jake.

11:03 p.m.

From Jake: Where are you? Did you leave?

11:04 p.m.

From Jake: According to Flo, she said you left with your ‘muse’? Who the fuck is she talking about?

11:07 p.m.

From Jake: Thought that fucking Marshall and you were done and you left to go fuck him, huh. You just crawl into his arms when things get bad? I fucking knew you were fucking him. You fucking whore.

11:10 p.m.

From Jake: Don’t bother coming home. Ever again.

Y/N pocketed the phone, reaching out to grab Marshall’s hand. He pulled her close, as he opened the door. Then he dropped her hand.

Marshall toed his shoes off before walking to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water. Y/N stood in the corridor.

“Can I borrow your shower?” she asked.

“Yeah, you know where it is.”

Y/N walked up the stairs and made her way to Marshall’s bedroom. She walked into his room and smiled, breathing in his cologne before walking to the bathroom. She slowly undressed and got into the shower.

Y/N was in there for a while and Marshall began to get worried. He walked up the stairs and went to his closet to grab a pair of boxers and a tee for her to change in. However, the door was open, and Y/N was there…naked.

He watched her as she showered. Her back faced him, and he swallowed. Her ass…round and perfect but when she turned, his heart dropped.

Bruises. Her body was covered in bruises.

Marshall did not control his movements next. In his hands were the spare clothing, but he pushed off his foot and went directly to the shower. He was hot on his trail and stood in front of her.

Y/N jumped seeing a clothed Marshall in front of her.

However, even with her naked in front of her, he shook his head slowly.

“You lied to me,” he whispered as if his heart was breaking.

“Marshall, I am naked,” she whispered.

“You lied to me and that hurts,” he said louder.

“Marshall. I am in the shower.”

“He hurts you, doesn’t he?” he stated. “Y/N…does he fucking hit you?” he said with sharpness.

Y/N turned so her back was facing him. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and then whispered, “Only when he is high.”

Marshall turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around her. Instantly, she fell into his arms as he held her close. His arms wrapped around her as he brought her out of the shower. Y/N turned around to face him.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“Because I thought every time was the last time.”

His arms held her close, as his eyes looked down. His hand came to cup her cheek and she smiled. It was a moment as she looked into those beautiful baby blue eyes and Marshall broke.

Her face and body, and voice and touch…the way her smile moves so slowly across her face like moonrise, how clearly he missed her and how clearly overjoyed he is to have her back. Y/N buried her face into his neck as he held her. All that she could think was that she needed him. She needed his arms around her, needed him to hold her.

But as they held another, Marshall kissed her with all the power he could muster, making up for all the weeks, moons, days, minutes and seconds their chapped lips had not been touching. And finally, finally, it felt like the world was no longer burning around him.

Y/N kissed him back holding his cheeks as their lips moved such passion. Y/N’s back hit the sink as his hands held her waist and cheek letting their kiss explore more. They kissed as no words explained how they felt. This is what they know.

Y/N pulled away and their foreheads rested against each other. For the first time, she felt complete. With him, she was at ease; her skin felt as though it was the right size. It seemed so natural, to talk to him about odd things. She had never done that before. The trust so sudden yet so complete and the intimacy frightened her…

Y/N pulled away and dropped the towel.

“Stop,” she said, and his brows furrowed. “Stop thinking about your worries. Just this once. Do not care about anything else but how you feel for me.”

“How I feel for you?” he whispered looking down to see her naked body. He swallowed and took a step forward.

“When we met,” she whispered, “three times. The chances. We are meant to be in each other’s lives…”

“What are you saying, Y/N?” he asked but her hands came to cup his cheek.

“You know what I am exactly saying.”

“Then say it.”

“Don’t make me,” she whispered.

He pressed a kiss to her lips and Y/N closed her eyes. “Marshall Mathers, I want you. Always you.”

And that was her way of saying it. She did not need to say the words as they were scary however, his kiss was powerful. However, she melted in his touch. Their kiss grew hungry as she walked forward, pushing him to the bedroom. Marshall removed his shirt throwing it behind them as his thighs hit the mattress.

Y/N’s hands trembled as she undid the belt, pushing his pants down and boxers. Marshall kicked them off as their skin hit one another…touching like fireworks going off.

She moaned from the heat that radiated off him, brushing her cool skin as their lips continued to move in sync. Marshall turned, pushing her against the bed. However, as he pulled away and leaned over her, he glanced down.

“You,” he said, “and me. Always.”

“We are an always type of thing,” she agreed, “always. You and me.”

It was their way of saying; I love you without the commitment. They feared love but they needed love and as they kissed, they knew the truth.

His hands moved from her waist to her breast, kneading it as her lips went to his jaw.

“Y/N,” he moaned, “Doll face.”

Y/N kissed his jugular as her hands ran down his chest, feeling his thick muscles and abs. She pulled away and looked back in his eyes.

Her fingers grazed the side of his jaw before touching his lips.

“You are never going back,” he whispered. “You’re mine. Forever.”

All she did was whisper, “Please.”

It was all he needed to press kisses down her chest, over her nipple before sucking it and letting it go away. His arms pushed her legs apart. Marshall settled between them, but his finger danced with such scandal down her abdomen. His lips pressed a kiss to her naval.

“You’re beautiful. You’re delicious,” he purred before pressing a kiss where she wanted it the most…right in the sweet spot. Instantly, her back curled as a loud demanding moan came from her.

Marshall smirked as he did it again with a little more force before pulling away. His fingers replaced its spot on the clitoris, pressing before moving in circles.

“Pretty girl. All mine. Forever,” he cooed. “My girl.”

“Yours.”

He went down, curling his fingers and pushing them inside of her as his lips pressed against her heat. Y/N’s hand went to his hair, running through it before moaning. He was magic as his tongue danced in places, she only dreamed of him touching. It was pleasure, it was lust, it was heaven and boy, she was ready to get on her knees to pray.

His tongue worked wonders and as he went on, she felt the knot. She felt the wave of pleasure and suddenly she was screaming his name.

Marshall placed a hand over her mouth, shushing her before kissing them closed.

“Wake up the whole neighbourhood, huh?” he mocked.

He was hard. She felt it. He felt it. However, as she rode her orgasm…he was not prepared.

“I want you,” he said.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“I am clean and on birth control.”

He nodded and looked down to her body and seeing the bruises. It was like seeing them all over again.

“Did he hurt you? By touching you?”

She shook her head. “They are old.”

“How old?”

“Two weeks maybe.”

He shook his head. “I will fucking kill him. I will fucking end his life the next time I see him. I want his corpse on a fucking stick in my yard.”

“Shh,” she whispered, “love on me. Murder later.”

His lips were back on yours as she moved her legs to wrap around him. Marshall entered her slowly, feeling him stretch her walls and fill her in ways she only dreamed. It was so different than anything she felt before. It was simply magical. Her eyes rolled back as he began to pump in and out of her.

His lips attached to the side of her head as his lips whispered sweet nothings. Bliss, pure bliss and she had no words just sounds of rapture. Her fingers grasped his back, nails digging as she scratched and ran her hands through his hair.

“So good,” he whispered, “perfect.”

Y/N rolled their bodies, moving to straddle him as she sunk on him. Marshall pushed up so their chest was flushed. His hands ran through her hair as their lips barely touched. Moans came from them as they shared the same breath of air.

It was not fucking. Far from it. It was love. It was magical. It was perfection.

They needed one another like oxygen. Like drugs…intoxicated and need a fix. As she rolled her hips and he hit the right places, they moaned. His hands ran up and down her back before cupping her waist.

Then he pushed her to the side and began thrusting from behind. She was on her side as his hand cupped her cheek, finger on her chin and tilting her head to him. Lips against one another as they came together.

They moaned one another’s name as their highs came. Pulsing, shockwaves, vibrating feelings of pure pleasure.

Eyes closed and feelings absorbing. They fell on the bed.

They were lying on their backs as he looked at one another.

Then he said something dangerous, “I think I love you.”

And her heart melted. “I love you too, Marshall Mathers.”

-

Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts and opinions.

Much love,

Ava <3

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 43

Synopsis : Reader tries to distract Em from his disappointment.

Author’s note : Thank you (as usual) to @shady-577 who agreed to read this beforehand. And thank you to all of you who have been reading my stuff lately ❤️. I don’t have time to reply to every single Ask you send but I see all the love and I’m grateful for it 🥰

- Marshall, you’re going to kill me ! You nearly cried as the love of your life planted a kiss on your neck, signaling he was ready for yet another round.

- Of course not, he cooed. You’ve got more in you.

- I don’t think I do, you panted. I’m exhausted.

- Fine, he said with a small pout before kissing your temple. I guess I can wait a bit.

It had been nearly a week since he last set foot in the studio and, instead of working on his music, he had apparently decided to work on your cardio. Judging by his efforts in the bedroom, he was trying to determine how many orgasms it would take to kill you. He seemed to be horny all the time and, what was all fun and games in the first days of him staying home turned out to be exhausting. Sure, it seemed like champagne problems. Too much pleasure, too many orgasms… a lot of women would argue that, at least, you were with a man who put your pleasure first and foremost and that you were lucky. But you had reached the point of exhaustion. You were even starting to doubt whether or not Marshall was taking stimulants because it made absolutely no sense for a man his age to have such insane stamina. Thank God, he was just as skilled and attentive when it came to aftercare and, each time you reached your limits, he made up for it by dotting on you. Plus, with your thumb being broken, he was extra attentive. For the past seven days, he had been all over you and you hadn’t been able to get much done. Arguably, your broken thumb had been a pain in the ass but it didn’t help that Marshall wouldn’t let you leave the bedroom.

You let your head roll on the pillow while Marshall got up and went to the bathroom to draw a bath for the both of you. God knows your sore muscles needed it. You joined him a couple of minutes later and found him inspecting his face in the mirror.

- Your beard is getting too long, old man, you giggled. You need to trim it.

- You think ? He asked.

- I know, you said with a smirk. With the amount of time you spend with your face between my legs, I can feel it.

- Oh, he simply chortled. Sorry about that, babe. Yeah I haven’t trimmed it in a minute. I keep up with it when I go to work, usually but… you know.

- Yeah, about that, you hummed. When do you think you’ll go back ?

He sighed and looked at you, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t seem too happy with the question but you knew you had to bring it up anyway. You stared at him, waiting for an answer.

- I’m not going back, he simply said.

- Marshall, you said softly.

- What ? He sighed. Don’t you like having me home ? We’re having a good time !

- You know it’s not that, you said softly as you cupped his face. But now that you’re talking about it… I don’t think my body can take it. Nor can the checklist of everything I need to do for the wedding. I’m behind on everything !

- Come on, he said with an eye roll. It’s not that bad.

- Twelve, you simply said.

- Twelve what ? He asked.

- That’s the number of times we did it yesterday, you giggled.

- If you were still able to count, I guess I didn’t do a great job, he said with a smirk before grabbing your waist. Might have to correct that.

- I swear to God, if you try this, I will cry, you giggled.

He chuckled and pulled you into his warm embrace as you both watched the water fill the tub.

- Are you going to share your secret, though ? You asked as you nuzzled his chest.

- Secret ? He asked.

- How do you do it ? You giggled. Viagra ?

- No, he chuckled. But judging by your complaints, if I were to take that, I would break you. I don’t know, I’ve always had a high sex drive.

- It’s through the roof, these days, though, you pointed out.

- I tend to have some phases I go through, he shrugged. I work like that. I find something and I pour all of my energy into that. Like when I got back to exercising when I got sober. I tend to hyper focus on things and not half-ass it.

- I see, you hummed. So… it’s not because I’m irresistible ?

- What ? Of course, he said. I didn’t-

- Relax. I’m just joking, you said before kissing his pec. I get it. Plus, sex is great when it comes to getting your mind off things.

- Right, he nodded. I need that, lately.

You hummed and entered the bathtub. You sat in silence, enjoying the warm water and Marshall’s embrace, gently stroking his arm.

- You know you can talk to me, right ? You nudged him.

- I know, he sighed. I just… I’m so used to pouring all of my energy into my work that now, I don’t even know what to do with myself. I have this anger, this energy…

- Have you tried writing about it ? You suggested. That usually works for you.

- I can’t, he groaned. Because if I write about it, I have to do the whole thing. Again, I can’t half-ass it. So I have to record it, speak it, rap it. I have thousands of recorded verses, just to ease my mind. I know it’s fucked up, but that’s how I work. But I can’t do that now because it doesn’t feel like a safe space anymore. Because some nasty shit I do might get leaked. And I can’t trust anyone, now.

You nodded and squeezed his hand, encouraging him to keep talking.

- And even if I could, I wouldn’t trust myself, he continued. Because… look at what happened. I hurt you. I fucked us over.

- We could always put the home studio back together ? You offered. No iCloud, all analog, you wouldn’t have to see anyone…

- I don’t want that shit in our home, he said as he shook his head. If I’m honest, I should have tossed it away a long time ago. When I was at the height of my addiction, I used to go to the basement and get high all the time. I don’t have good memories. But it’s also hard because rapping… it’s all I have, you know ? I’m just frustrated. Whatever. It’ll pass. I talked to the therapist about it. I’m working through it but it takes time. That’s tough to swallow.

- Right, you hummed. But… in the meantime, you’re just… not working ?

- I guess, he shrugged. It’s just as well, though. I guess being home will be good for me. For us. We’re still working through our own issues, doing therapy. We could use some time just the two of us.

- I like having you with me, you said lovingly. I just want to make sure you’re ok. So… are you ?

- I don’t know, he said earnestly. Honestly, I don’t think so. I’m mad at tracy for the shit she pulled. I’m fucking livid ! And it’s not only about the leak, you know ? But she was my friend ! She worked with me for almost a quarter of a century. Nevermind the fact that we dated, but she was there for every important moment of my life. Not just my career, bu my personal life, too ! She was almost an aunt to the girls, you know ? When I was heartbroken, I can’t even tell you about the number of times she was there for me. She was always the one telling me I deserved to be happy, she supported me in everything I did ! She was just as important as Paul. You haven’t been alive long enough to know what it’s like to be betrayed by someone who’s been in your life and working alongside you for this long but I can tell you… It fucking hurts. I always thought « If I can’t trust Tracy, I can’t trust anyone ». Well… I guess I can’t trust anyone. I really can’t. It feels like I’ve been lied to for the past twenty-five years.

- I hate to be the one saying this, but what she did, however vile, doesn’t erase most of the good times you had, you said tentatively.

- No but it does, he said. She ruined the most important things for me ! By leaking that fucking track, she hurt you, she ruined your reputation, she ruined my relationship with my daughters and she ruined the thing that makes me feel alive : music ! How the fuck am I supposed to go back to work after this ? I was fucked over ! All the things I worked so hard to build protect, they’re fucking gone !

You stared at him and saw tears well in his eyes, a mix of sadness and anger. His baby blue eyes gazed into yours before looking away as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

- I’m sorry, he mumbled. That needed to come out. I shouldn’t bother you with that shit. You have enough on your plate as it is. You’ve been through a lot and it’s my fault.

- Babe, no ! You immediately interjected. I did ask if you were ok and I’m glad you were honest. You’re allowed to be honest and vulnerable.

- That’s exactly how I feel, he sighed. Vulnerable. You know, when I was a scrawny kid whose life sucked, music was my safe space. It’s what made me feel good, allowed me to feel tough. I can’t tell you how amazing it felt, the day I realized I was good at rapping. I decided that I wanted to do it for the rest of my life. And it allowed me to channel all the feelings that were overwhelming for me. And even later, when so much shit went down… It fucking saved my life. So now, not feeling confident, and having been fucked over by one of he people I built everything with… It fucking sucks. I’ve spent the past week trying not to think about it. Every time I do, I feel fucking helpless.

You nodded sympathetically and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes before pulling you closer to him and burying his face in your neck. You weren’t used to seeing him so vulnerable and, even in the rare instances he was, he usually wasn’t so vocal about his feelings. You were happy he had finally spoken about it, and that he felt safe enough with you to tell you how he really felt. You held him and ran a hand in his back, gently stroking his skin, feeling him ease up against you.

- It feels good, he whispered. Thank you.

- You don’t have to thank me, you hummed. I love you. I want to be here for you, take care of you…

- It’s my job, though, he mumbled.

- It’s a two-way street, you know ? You giggled. We can take care of each other.

- I like that, he nodded with his eyes closed. I love you.

- I love you too, you replied lovingly. Now how about we get up, put on some clothes and watch Superbad ?

- I thought you didn’t like that movie ? He asked.

- I just don’t love it as much as you do, you shrugged. Plus, I know it’s your favorite.

He smiled against your skin and you stayed in each other’s arms for a few minutes before getting out of the bathtub. You got dressed and you ordered Marshall to get in bed while you went downstairs and prepared some snacks for the two of you. You were putting everything on a tray in the kitchen when he walked in.

- I told you to stay upstairs, you scolded.

- How are you going to carry everything, smart-ass ? He asked.

- With one hand, you shrugged.

- So that I have to get up and clean after your clumsy ass once everything’s on the floor ? Don’t think so, he chuckled. You don’t have to take care of me, you know ?

- I know. I want to, though, you assured him.

- What do you have in mind, then ? He mused.

- Well, believe it or not, I don’t really have a « my boyfriend’s been fucked over by a longtime friend and employee who turned out to be a bitch » protocol in place. So I’m giving you the « heartbroken bestie » treatment, you said.

- Which is ?

- It involves a bed, a movie, tons of snacks and cuddles. A face mask if you feel like it.

- I guess it’s worth a try, he said with a smile. Thanks, babe.

You went upstairs and stuck to the plan. You were in Marshall’s arms while you both watched the movie and he mindlessly played with your hair. A funny scene came on and you noticed he was not even paying attention to the movie.

- You’re not laughing ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What ? He asked. Oh. Yeah.

- It’s not working very well, is it ? You asked.

- No, it is, he shrugged. I mean… I don’t know. I’m just thinking about a lot of stuff. It’s hard to turn my brain off. I’m sorry. Does it usually work when one of your friends gets dumped ?

- Sometimes, you shrugged. If memory serves, putting on slutty dresses and going dances can work too, but I’m sensing it’s not for you. Though your music videos prove that you’ve worn your fair share of slutty dresses. Or… We could go for a drive.

- Sounds good, he said as he got up. We haven’t left the house in a week.

- Whose fault is that ? You asked with a grin.

- Mine, I know, he chuckled.

- I liked the drives we used to go on, you commented. I remember the first one. It was great.

- When I took you to the observatory, when we met ?

- No, the time we went for a drive in the Aston Martin, you corrected. Right after our first movie night. I remember feeling so good with you. Thinking « wow, he’s great in bed and I love being in the car with him ».

- It was fun, he nodded.

- And then, you broke my heart, you recalled. When you said nothing would happen between us, ever again.

- Stupidest thing I’ve ever said, he chuckled. Because I’m fucking glad we’re together. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

You squeed and kissed him before getting up and putting some shoes on. You headed to the garage where Marshall let you pick a car for your drive. On an everyday basis, he usually drove the Escalade because it was more practical and less flashy than the others, but night drives like this were an opportunity to enjoy his impressive car collection. You settled for the Lamborghini Aventador, much to his delight. You knew it was one of his favorites. As you were exiting the garage, he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

- The point of this whole thing is to cheer me up, right ? He asked.

- It is, you agreed. But why do I feel you’re up to something ?

- I have an idea, he said with a smile. How about you get behind the wheel ?

- Y-you want me to drive ? You asked nervously.

- We always talked about how I’d have to teach you, he shrugged. It makes sense now that you live here. If you knew how to drive, you wouldn’t need Uber or people chauffeuring you around. Honestly, I’m shocked you didn’t learn earlier.

- That’s because cities in Europe are centered around pedestrians, you explained.

- You’ve lived in the US for years, babe ! Come on, I’ll teach you, he said with excitement. You always say you like my car collection !

- Yeah, they’re nice to look at, but…. Do you really trust me with your car ? You asked. Especially this one ?

- A car’s a car, he shrugged. You have to start somewhere ! Come on, I’ll just show you how it works and we won’t even get out of the property.

- My thumb’s broken, you reminded him.

- Come on, people drive with splints all the time, he chuckled. Please ? We’ll have fun !

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow but his smile was so genuine that you ended up caving in. In your twenty-eight years of life, you had never bothered with learning how to drive, partly because the Europe infrastructure thing was true, but also because you were terrified. However you trusted Marshall with your life so you were ok with giving it a go. You switched places in the car and he quickly explained the basics to you. You listened carefully, trying to make mental notes of everything. You started the car as he encouraged you and walked you through the pedals.

- See ? It’s easy ! He said with a smile. Now, we’re going to drive a bit, ok ?

- Ok, you said as you tried to get your confidence together.

You managed to work the pedals and drove a bit around the house. Honestly, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be and you enjoyed it. You also liked having Marshall coaching you through the whole thing, a hand on your thigh.

- I did it !!! You shrieked in excitement. It’s actually really easy !

- Hang on, he chuckled. You haven’t tried driving stick, or in traffic. But I’m proud of you, babe. Now how about we go for an actual drive ?

- You don’t want me to drive on the road, do you ?! You asked in panic.

- Of course not, he chuckled. I don’t want to get pulled over by the cops. Or die. I’ll drive.

You switched places again and drove for a while, listening to the radio. Some hip-hop tracks that Marshall hadn’t heard yet came up and he listened carefully, commenting on a couple of bars. Most of the time, when he listened to tracks, he did so on his own but you actually enjoyed having him provide content, context and explaining the most intricate bars to you. Whenever he talked about music, you could see his eyes light up. You watched him lovingly as he rambled on, talking about an artist, commenting on their discography. At one point, you stopped at a drive-thru and ordered some food, before driving to the observatory where he took you, after you first met. You sat in the car as you watched the sun set, talking about random things.

- I like this, you commented.

- Yeah ? He asked. I’m glad. I can’t believe you had never had Taco Bell before !

- No, I mean, this, you said as you gestured to the both of you. Going on a drive, talking, enjoying sunset… I like this. I’m happy living with you and all, but I like going out of the house and just talking, and not just about what we did during the day. Is it crazy that I feel like we haven’t done that in a while ?

- No, I agree, he said with a smile. Does that count as a date, then ?

- I think it does, you giggled. I like dating you, Marshall.

- I like dating you too, babe, he said softly. Now that I have more time, I’ll be more present, I promise.

- You’ll have to go back to work eventually, though, you pointed out.

- I don’t know, he shrugged. I love my job. Music is… It’s everything to me, you know ? But maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I should put a stop to all of this. Maybe I could just sell Effigy, call it quits and focus on my foundation and my family life. Us. Maybe I should retire.

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P8

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid

Everyone was panicking. Alex was out of his car pacing back and forth in the Audi garage as Lily tried to calm him down. They refused to show the reply or any current footage of what was going on. But Lily had seen it live and even she was struggling to not cry herself.

Lando was sat with his head in his hands, crying over the reason for such a bad crash. He wouldn't forgive himself, no matter how bad the crash had been, even if you just came out with a small scrape. You were on track to winning the race as well. Not that that really mattered as your unconscious self was being hauled out of the burning car that had started to catch alight when the fuel tank burst and leaked.

One courageous marshal managed to pull you out, as they were pulling you out they weren't thinking about any broken bones they just wanted to get you out the car.

They laid you down on the floor, not taking your helmet of but flipping the visor up to see if you were awake, which of course you weren't.

They held your wrist looking for a heartbeat screaming for a medic to come over and help you. In record speed time, emergency services had managed to get a helicopter to airlift you to the best hospital in Belgium.

When the drivers saw the helicopter fly off, they could tell it was a bad crash, not that they couldn't tell before but the fact you needed to be airlifted had them worrying.

Lando was near close to being sick, Oscar at his side rubbing his back as he dry-heaved into a bin.

"Oh my god, I've killed my best friend" he cried and Oscar right now had no idea what to actually say to him.

"No you haven't, she's going to be okay!" Oscar says rubbing his crying friends back.

Charles was num, he didn't know what to think and he actually couldn't talk to Carlos. Was this his fault... no it was the rain, and your team, and your radio, and your car, and Lando's fault and he was so terribly angry when he thought about it fully.

Joris had talked him out of the abyss that was Charles mind and the whirlpool of thoughts he was flowing down. He told him off when Charles started to angrily play the blame game, explaining it wasnt anyone's fault and that you knew the risks of racing.

The race wasn't continued, with only two laps to go. Lando won, Lewis in P2 and Charles in P3, that should have been your first race win and it was a dull celebration hearing your shared national anthem with Lando when it was supposed to be you up there.

He didn't do his usual champagne pop, none of them actually even popped the champagne just handing it off to their teams to enjoy who just passed it back as no one was really in the mood to drink.

Interviews were even more dull.

"Hello Charles, pleasure to have you here!" the interviewer smiles, trying their best to lighten the mood but you'd become such a presence around the paddock over the last few races that it was strange not having you around.

Charles just nods and she awkwardly looks down at her note pad.

"So obviously not a great race with the end there, but you had a spectacular race despite the rain and that long pitstop. Can you comment more on that?"

"Yeah, I think not only the drivers find working in those conditions tense and they want then best for you. Obviously the long pitstop had me loosing a few positions but like normal you just push harder and gain those places back, P3 was better than we hoped for and I shouldn't have been up on that podium today" he nods and his interview is wrapped up insanely quickly.

"Any last comments on Y/N, any insight on her condition and how she's doing?" she asks tentatively.

"No, sorry I don't!" he says with a grit in his teeth before his PR manager takes his arm and guides him away with a final nod to the interviewer saying this was over.

Lando and Alex couldn't even do any of their media duties, too upset by what happen to you that they went straight back to the hotel. Alex and Lily actually travelled to the hospital where you were at now with your family and personal trainer to see if they could find anything more out.

They arrived at the hospital in record time considering the one and a half hour drive it took to get from the race track to Brussels where you were being treated.

"Hi, we're looking for Y/N Y/L/N?" Lily asks knowing Alex had been a little choked up the whole time and could barley get his words out.

"Ah, yes are you immediate family?" she asks looking over the two of the with an eyebrow raised.

"No, but I'm her team-mate she's a race car driver and she" Alex blurts out only for the woman to interrupt him.

"Got into an accident at the race, I'm aware. Her family are on the 2nd floor outside a private suite near the trauma unit. You can go talk to them but there's no visitors in her room right now!" she exclaims and they both nod, running towards the lift to make their way up.

"Do you think she's going to be okay?" Alex choked out looking to Lily. He didn't know what to do if they came up and she wasn't okay.

"She's a strong girl, the halo did an amazing job protecting her. She'll be okay, I'm sure of it!" Lily say pulling her boyfriend in for a cuddle which he accepted nuzzling into her comforting smell.

The lift dinged and they stepped out, immediately stepped out seeing various doctors and nurses rushing around, even though it seemed like calm and organized rush.

They spot a group of people and your personal trainer, which Alex deducts easily that its your family. Both him and Lily tentatively walk over seeing your mother crying her eyes out into your father and your whole family looked the farthest thing from okay.

"Erm, hey" Alex smiles towards your personal trainer who also looks worried rubbing the back of his neck. Both your parents snap their head towards Alex, your mother immediately sobbing harder pulling him into a kind and gentle hug.

"Oh she loved driving with you so much, Alex right? She talked about you and how welcomed you made her feel!" she cries and Alex feels sickness building in his stomach and throat.

Your mother was using the past tense as if you were already dead and he didn't dare ask the question. He just continued holding your mum as she continued to cry.

Your father, who was trying hard to hold back his tears but ultimately was failing gave Alex a kind smile before reaching for his wife to pull her back.

"H-how is she?" Lily gulps, knowing Alex didn't have it in him to ask.

"Sh-she died on the way here apparently and she'd flatlined again once she was here. But she's in emergency surgery and their doing everything for her" her dad says and sighs not really knowing what else to do.

They all sit and wait, waiting for any news on your condition.

It felt like hours before a nurse and doctor cam trotting over to all of them.

"Family of Y/N Y/L/N?" she asks and looks around at each of them and your mum stands up grabbing your dads hand.

"Yes that's us, we are her parents" she says pointing between the two of them.

"Can we talk to you privately please?" she asks noticing the big group that included children.

"Alex, darling you should come with us so you can update her friends" your mum reaches out for him and he nods following the doctor into a private consultation room.

"So, is my daughter going to be okay?" your mum asks the pending question.

"We did everything we could, and she's a very strong girl considering her injuries. She'll be okay but she wont be racing for at least 3 months, might be the whole season depending on how much she pushes herself in physio therapy when she's up and moving" he smiles and your dad starts to fully sob hearing his little girl was going to be okay.

"What happened to her. Why did she flat line?" your mother asks.

"Her injuries were extensive. She fractured her spine, broke 3 ribs which caused her left lung collapsed which deprived her of oxygen. Which didn't help the minor head and neck injuries she suffered, and of course the fuel leak caused burns on her arms and legs" he listed of her extensive injuries that seemed to be non-stop.

"Holy shit" Alex admitted and took a seat.

"You can see her now, she's still under anesthetic and it wont ware off for a few hours but you can see her" he smiles and lets your family all hug before running out to the rest to tell them you were in fact okay.

Alex explained to Lily everything that happened and she also felt relieved. He asked if she was able to send a message to the Whatsapp chat while he got a drink of water to try and calm his heart rate down.

He ended up talking them through your condition and the fact that only your immediate family were allowed in right now but he and Lily could go in after and that your parents had expressed that they were all more than welcome to come see you.

All of them agreed that they would of course come and see you tomorrow. Your family and Alex all tweeted about how you were doing and that they would ask you to make a video or statement when you were awake and with the world.

Everyone was just glad that you were alive... and were starting to plan their trip to come see you.

A/N: Y/N going to be out of racing until after the summer break? Oh no! ... what will she do!

Also my google search history is wild after this chapter where i had to look up the healing time for all her injuries....

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[nickfowlerrr]

good for you

ronearoundblindly asked: Can you write August and 49. Out of necessity?!

GIF by callsign-fangirl

pairing: mainly - august walker x curvy!reader

warnings: 21+ ONLY. this is...smut. and kink. and smut smut smut. no d/s dynamics but some power play aspects. august gets called sir. dirty talk. some degradation. reader and august are undercover. please note i am leaving stuff out! warnings are not exhaustive, in part because i don't know how to tag them and also i know i'm forgetting stuff lol.

other characters mentioned, even just briefly: nick fowler, bucky barnes, steve rogers, lloyd hansen, walter marshall, god the bounty hunter.

words: about 4.4k

notes: this prompt completely got away from me. i think i barely touched it for like a second. i really don't know what happened lol. but thank you very much for submitting an ask, i appreciate it! <3

truthfully i don’t even know if this all makes sense but it did in my head and it really got me going so i’m sharing it with you all lol. thank you in advance to anyone who reads this madness, i hope you, at the very least, find it somewhat enjoyable. please let me know your thoughts!

“Your friend is staring,” you speak quietly as you glance over to the target idling by the entrance of the hallway. He was on his way out when he noticed August slip down the corridor, his suspicions rising instantly.

You weren’t supposed to be seen, you weren’t supposed to be there at all, but since Mr. Paranoid forced August to ditch the very expensive phone you’d made and chipped just for him, you needed to get something on him again to be able to maintain communication, to keep track of him, and though you wouldn’t say so aloud, to ensure his safety in any way you could.

You’d snuck into the event dressed as part of the waitstaff, a form fitting short black dress, nylons and two inch black heels, all of which you’d rolled your eyes at. What happened to the standard white dress shirts and black slacks?

As you walked around holding a tray of champagne, offering drinks to guests, you finally spotted him. He was sat on the armrest of the couch in the middle of the room, his target chatting with another man you’d never seen before just to the side of him.

You made your way over, taking your time passing by the two men near him, handing them the flutes of champagne as you finally felt August’s gaze on you.

You stepped closer to him as he eyed you up and down before he raised a brow at you.

You could feel the attention of his target on you both as you stood before him.

“Champagne, sir?” you asked inconspicuously.

“Is that all that’s on the table tonight?” he responded as he took a glass, his dark gaze heating you as you saw the corner of his lips twitch in a smirk.

You had to stop yourself from reacting how you wanted to and instead forced a polite but sultry smile for your onlooker.

As you started to walk away, you felt a tug on the skirt of your dress and the warmth of August’s fingers brushing against your thigh through your nylons as you moved forward. That was unexpected... You wanted to hate the feeling, more so, you should have hated the feeling. Or at least not let it effect you so much. This was a job, after all. You needed to focus and do what you were there to do.

You glanced back over your shoulder and the twinkle in his eyes as he watched you walk away had you forcing yourself to stomp down the butterflies that threatened to take flight in your stomach. You also saw the scrutinizing eyes of his target set on him as he watched you.

August’s lips moved but you couldn’t tell what it was he said as you continued to play the part and offered drinks to other guests. All you saw was the scoff he earned from the man beside him before they both looked over at you for a second longer.

You ignored them and continued on around the room. August knew you were here now, and he knew his target better than you did, so it was up to him to figure out how he’d be able to speak with you without raising any flags.

But the night grew on and you grew more and more annoyed. You were straight up catering at this point, working a whole shift. You should be getting paid for this.

The only interaction you had with August was when you’d walk by with a new tray. His mark never strayed far from him so you didn’t say much of anything. August though, was ceaseless in his flirting. Little quips you’d ignore and the touches he’d try to pass off as accidental. You weren’t the only one to notice.

After one final tray, you walked back into the kitchen to see everything was being put away.

“Are we done?” you asked the organizer.

“Mhm, nights just about over. You can see Cian for the pay,” she pointed in the direction of the back door.

“Great, thanks,” you smiled.

Shit. What were you gonna do now? You needed to get this ring on August so you could get his new home base location and set up the new surveillance. He only had about a week left undercover if all went according to plan, but you still needed to get eyes on him and get the new trackers planted and live.

“Hey, Ashley.

Ashley!

Ashley?”

You looked around the kitchen confused as to who this Cian guy was calling, the louder his voice rose the more derailed your train of thought was getting...

“Hello, Ashley?” he said again, closer to you this time he spoke.

Who the hell is… oh shit.

You spun around and forced a smile and a titter.

“Sorry,” you laughed at yourself, playing up the bubbly tone to your voice, “I’m over here in la la land.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cian smiled, handing you a wad of cash. “If I had a man looking at me the way that guy has been looking at you all night, I’d be the same.”

“Oh,” you breathed, looking down with a soft smile, playing as coy as possible. “Was it that noticeable?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he put his hands on your shoulders and spun you back around, “go get his number before I do.”

You laughed as he pushed you back out of the kitchen. You dropped your smile the second the door closed and stuffed your cash in your bra. Now to get him alone...

Walking back out into the party area, you immediately made eye contact with August.

His target was off in a corner talking to that same man he had been speaking to before. His back was to the room so he didn’t see you and didn’t notice August as he followed you.

You walked slowly along the wall of the room as not to draw attention from anyone before you turned down the long, dark hallway off to the side.

You were two steps down the empty corridor when August’s hands were suddenly on you, turning you to face him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he seethed.

“Helping,” you responded with just as much enthusiasm, pulling your arm from his tight hold.

“You didn’t think to give me some kind of warning?”

“And how the hell was I supposed to do that? You completely crushed our only form of contact with you-”

“What would you rather I have done, huh? ‘Sorry, can’t break my phone, my team is listening and keeping tabs on me through it.’,” he said sarcastically, “You think that would’ve played over well?”

You didn’t have anything to say to that. But god, did he really need to be so forceful and mean when you were helping him out. Some part of you thought he'd be, you didn't know, proud? You'd never been in the field before and certainly never gone undercover. You had to do some pretty intense convincing to get the green light on this little operation. You knew August was gruff and almost always a little mean, especially to you, but the least he could do was be the tiniest bit grateful.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “Doesn’t matter now. But we need something on you.”

You reached again into your bra, August’s eyes ever attentive to your movements.

“Here,” you pulled out the ring you made for him. “It’s identical to the one you always wear, so just swap it for tonight. Once we get your new coordinates I'll be able to set up surveillance and figure out another way to get comms through."

You watch as August slips his ring off, sliding your tracker ring in its place.

You sense someone at the start of the hallway and flick your eyes over, "Your friend is staring."

"Is he now?" August asks as he steps closer to you, intruding in your space as he back you up against the wall. You don't say anything, just look in his eyes as your breathing slows for a moment.

His hand comes up as he cradles your cheek in his touch, "We better make this believable, then."

Your eyebrows furrow but you don't have time to speak a word before August pulls you close to him and kisses you hotly.

Vaguely, you're aware of the way his mark was just about to head in your direction before August pulled you into him and how he is now shaking his head as he retreats back some.

You're kissing August back with just as much fervor as his other hand slides down the curve of your waist. You're expecting his hand to settle on your hip but you murmur into the kiss as his touch slides lower before he grabs your ass as forces your body as close to his as he possibly can, earning a near squeal from you.

Of course, he finds that amusing as he smirks against your lips before he does it again. Your hands are bracing you against him, one on his chest and one on his stomach as you fist his shirt in your hand at the second grope.

You break away finally for air but he doesn't let you get away from him at all. His nose nuzzles yours and his moustache tickles you before his lips are on yours once again. Hot and firm before he slips his expert tongue into your mouth. You truly forget where you are and what you're doing as he kisses you like you've never been kissed before and his incessant hands feel up and down your body.

You're suddenly pushed back against what you think is a wall until you feel August's hand searching for something. The pushing down of a handle and the creak of a door opening directly behind you gives you some warning before you're urged back into the dark room. August spins around, leaning out of the door a bit and puts on a show of looking both ways before he pretends to spot his guy.

He smirks and sends him a wink.

"I told ya'," he says smugly as he starts to shut the door, "Give me twenty minutes."

The door shuts and August turns back to you, walking you back in the darkened room.

"You told him what?" you ask breathily despite yourself.

"That I'd be able to get you in the back room by the end of the night," he answers huskily, still advancing toward you. You gasp as your legs hit the back of something. You look over your shoulder behind you and are shoved by August down onto the lavish bed.

You scoff at him as you sit on the mattress, and he stands right in front of you. "No one can see us now," you assert, unsure as to why he still has that look in his eye. The one that spells nothing but trouble.

"No," he agrees, "but odds are he's gonna come by the door and try to eavesdrop," he gets closer and his bulge is prominent now as your mouth parts of her own accord. "You don't wanna blow my cover now do you?"

His hands come to his belt and you watch entranced as he unbuckles it and begins working at the zip of his pants, his heavy eyes never leaving you.

You look up at him as he starts to push them down and you really have no control over yourself as you lean back onto the bed, scooting up to give you both more room as he comes down and begins to crawl on top of you.

Your head is swimming as he kisses you again, his hands on your head as he guides you down.

"Such a good little agent you are," he taunts against your lips, moving down your body until his hands are between your thick thighs, spreading your legs as he keeps you open for him. "You'd do anything for a superior, wouldn't you," he breathes hotly along your skin as he easily tears your nylons, not even bothering to try and work them down your legs first.

You had forgone underwear, and you murmur as he kisses your neck, his thick fingers gliding along your now exposed cunt, feeling just how wet you are for him already. It's pathetic but you have no defense for yourself - not against his touch or his words...

He has one hand playing with your pussy and the other groping at your chest, and you know he's enjoying hearing all the little whines and whimpers he's getting out of you.

Finally, he decides he's ready to give you a little more. He holds himself above you as he stays between your legs, grabbing his thick length in one hand. He runs the tip of himself up and down your pussy, getting himself wet with your arousal and sending sparks lighting up your body as he teases your clit over and over. The sight of him, tall, built, powerful and ever superior, still dressed with his cock out as he plays with you, exposed before him, is something you never thought you'd see, but god, you can't say you aren't loving it.

He sees the moment you're about to open your mouth and plead for him, but he stops you before you can. In one swift, unexpected motion, August shoves his cock into your tight cunt and grabs your throat with his other hand, squeezing you into silence as your walls squeeze his thick length.

You bring one hand to his wrist as your eyes threaten to roll back from the overwhelming pleasure. He isn't choking you, he's just squeezing... with the perfect amount of pressure. Fuck, it's like he-

"Yeah, I knew you'd like that angel," he smirks as he moves his hips against you, rocking in and out of you as he sets his rhythm. "I just got in ya, you're goin' dumb on me already?"

You're damn near instantly a moaning mess beneath him as he fucks you, going harder and deeper with each thrust.

He's grunting over you, staring down at you with a sick dark lust swimming in his gaze that you almost wish you didn't know how to place... almost.

His smirk is unbreakable as you babble on and his hand trails from around your throat to tug down the neckline of your dress. He pulls until you sit up a bit and free your arms of their sleeves, pushing the material down your torso. He laughs at the cash you have stuffed in your bra before he tears it off of you.

His fingers move to tweak your hard nipples and you groan and gasp at the sensation, your walls tightening around his cock as he rocks his hips against yours. "Au-" your moan is cut off as he grabs your face in one hand, smooshing your cheeks while you look up at him pathetically.

"No names, angel. Don't be fucking stupid," he growls, fucking into you harder as he chases his high. "You see his shoes under the door," he whispers, your eyes move and you nod dumbly as you see them. "Don't talk until you see him leave."

He lowers himself closer to you as his hand returns to your neck. He groans as you slide one leg up the bed, keeping yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts into you. He kisses you sloppily, it's all tongue and teeth as he grunts and moans into your mouth, his mustache tickling your lip as he speaks through ragged breaths.

"Fuck, you have no idea how badly I've needed this," he says. You look back to the door and see the shoes are gone and you're alone again, briefly you wonder how August knew he was gone but you don't have the wherewithal to ask him as he keeps fucking you like he doesn't have a care in the world for anything other than your pussy. Maybe he really is just that good.

"You haven't even been undercover for a week," you respond quietly with a weak laugh as your eyelids flutter - his rushed movements stimulating your sensitive clit. God, you feel drunk. Is this really happening right now? Are you actually getting fucked by August Walker while you're both undercover and could theoretically be compromised any second? His strong hand on your hip as he sits up, keeping his cock inside you and his thick fingers rubbing your clit are your answer.

"Not just sex, angel. No, I can get that from anyone. I mean you," he thrusts into you slower now, working his cock in and out of you as he rubs your clit. Your walls are bearing down on him as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm. His eyes squeeze shut as he groans headily, "Fuck, Fowler said you were good, he didn't say just how fucking good," he says through grit teeth as his cock drags deliciously along your walls.

The mention of Nick's name has your belly in a flurry of emotions but mostly, right now anyway, it just serves to push you ever closer to that edge. You whimper a moan as your leg threatens to shake. The coil in your belly is winding tighter and tighter the more he says and the dirtier his words get. Your toes are curling as he circles your clit perfectly.

"You like that, huh? Knowing he talks about you to other men, tells us how much of a fucking slut you are for him," he taunts, each sentence punctuated by another thrust. "How pissed off do you think he'll be when I tell him just how easy it was to get you beneath me? Mm, do you think he'll even care at all? What else should he expect from a little whore like you. So desperate for everyone's approval I don't think you'd even mind being the communal slut for all of us to use whenever the fuck we want," you cry out as your orgasm hits you hard, so hard it's almost blinding. He's still playing with your clit and you're holding onto August like your life depends on it. He just doesn't stop. He moves you with surprising ease, pulling you up so you're straddling his lap now. You just came and you don't know how you're doing it, but despite your weakened legs, you start to move yourself on top of him, bouncing up and down his thick cock. His big hands are on your hips as he helps you keep the rhythm. Your arms are around his neck, your tits in his face as he holds you. You don't even really care about coming again, you just know you want to be full of him. He's right. You're desperate for approval. You wanna make him come. You want him to talk about how good you are to the other guys, just like Nick does. It's embarrassing and shameful but it's true. Everything he's saying is true. Being their shared slut sounds like heaven to you. You don't care if they just want to use you, not in the moment, anyway. You just want to be useful to them, to all of them, any way you can be. You want to be good. You want to be needed... to be wanted.

"Heard Barnes talking about you the other week, too. He get his cock in you yet?" he pants as he keeps you moving on his cock, his grip getting tighter. "Him and Rogers have a bet going, ya know. Which one of 'em will get to fuck you first. But smart money says they'll both lose. I think," he breathes, licking his lip, "you'd take 'em both at the same time - like the pathetic little whore you are, wouldn't you?"

Your eyes are closed tight as you ride his thick cock as best you can and all you can manage to do is mewl helplessly as your fingers twist in his hair. Your mind is playing out the scenes as he speaks them and it's turning you on even more... Bucky, Steve...August, Nick... Lloyd, Walter, fuck, all of them at the same time - using you however they wanted, however they needed and…God…yes.

August slaps your ass harshly, earning a yelp from you as your eyes shoot open.

"You answer me when I ask you a question, agent," he spits.

"Yes, sir," you respond obediently.

"Yes, sir, what?"

"Yes, I would take them both at the same time..." another slap to your ass, "like the pathetic little whore I am, sir," you respond as your skin feels like its on fire and your pussy squeezes his cock tighter with every word you're forced to speak.

"Fuuuck," he grunts, his hands on your soft ass, moving you up and down his shaft as your nails dig into the fabic of his shirt covering his shoulders. "I'm sure you can't wait to get back and let them fuck you every which way, but right now, angel," he husks gripping and kneading your softness, slamming you down again on his cock before he starts fucking up into you, "right now you're all mine."

His thrusts are ruthless and the only reason you're still upright is because you're clutching onto him with what little strength you have left. You bury your face in his neck as you cry and whine your pleasure, somehow finding yourself on the verge of another orgasm as he uses you like nothing more than a toy.

You mindlessly snake a hand down between your bodies and rub at your clit as you feel yourself a breath away from release.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you, angel," he taunts darkly. "You wanna come again for me? I can feel your pussy squeezing my cock. Fuck you feel so goddamn good. I'm gonna fuckin come, and you're gonna be good and take it all, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, please," you whine, "I'm good. Whatever you want, I'll take it, please, please. Oh, fuck, please," you groan through clenched teeth, "give it to me."

You can hear your own debauchery and if his cock filling you up wasn't pure ecstasy, you just might care enough to be embarrassed by it.

He slaps your ass again, just for fun this time as he thrusts up into you. He hits hard as you gasp and he ruts up into you once, twice more, before you finally can feel his hot seed filling you up and dripping out of you as he comes hard. He's growling and swearing as he holds you to him, making sure he gets every last drop out. You're sticky, a total mess between your legs as you both catch your breath.

He moves you off of him, not carelessly, but not carefully either.

You watch as he cleans himself up and tucks his softening cock back in his pants as you pull your arms back into the sleeves of your dress.

He bends down to pick something up and you're momentarily stunned when he stands and throws your cash on you. "You definitely earned that tonight," he laughs as he buckles his belt.

You blink down at the money, seconds away from either blowing up on him or shutting down entirely, you aren’t sure…and then are once again surprised when August leans in and kisses you on the cheek.

"Thanks for the ring, angel," he says as he moves to the door. "Don't act surprised when I get back into town next week," he turns to look at you, "you'll be my first stop."

Your lips twitch, threatening to turn into a smile as you watch him leave. You wouldn’t mind that.

You wait a few minutes, having cleaned yourself up some in the en suite bathroom, before you make sure you have everything and leave as well.

You exit through the front doors and make your way down the grand front steps to your ride.

They're parked across the street, but come up to the curb as they see you approach.

You pull open the passenger side door and get in with a huff.

"Sorry, took longer than I thought it would, but he got the tracker, so... all good."

It's quiet, he doesn't respond to your explanation, not that you entirely expected him to. You never know what you’ll get with him. Sometimes he’s friendly, bordering on flirty even, and other times he’s this. After all the surveillance stakeouts you’ve been on together, you’re used to it all.

He pulls off and you're on your way back to the city. You now expect an uneventful ride, but when God pulls up to the first stop sign where no one else is around, he finally speaks.

"That necklace I gave you," he says,

You look down at the pendant he told you to wear tonight, a tracker, you assumed, "Yeah?"

He takes a deep, drawn out breath before he looks at you with his ever scrutinizing gaze.

"It's a recording device."

It's your turn to be quiet now as your skin burns. Your eyes go wide for a second before you bother trying to school your reaction. Even then, “Oh," is all you can manage to squeak out.

He looks at you as you stare unsurely at him, those bright blue eyes penetrating you. You're almost scared for a moment, wondering what he must think of you after hearing all of what he heard... not everyone is into everything, you know that. You just hope he won’t think badly of you - not only for what you did but for everything August said that you didn’t refute once, for everything you said in turn…and then he grabs your hand. You don't break eye contact as he guides your touch to his pants, making you feel his hard cock as it strains against the material of his dark jeans.

You almost can't believe it, your head swimming as reality catches up to you. Maybe your fantasy really is possible...

You squeeze his cock gently through his jeans as he keeps his eyes on you. He groans when you do it again, "You wanna be good for me, too, sweetheart? Get the whole team on board?"

You nod.

Of course you do.

[geralts-yenn]

Memories - part 2

Walter Marshall x OFC Maxine (second-person pov)

summary: You finally have to face Walter and talk to him about what happened in that night, years ago

warnings: 18+, minors DNI! drinking alcohol, vaginal fingering, oral (F,M receiving), protected p-in-v sex

word count: 4,6k

A/N: sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger, but I'm not cruel, so here we go, here's the second part

Part 1

My masterlist

As you approached your table, you shot death stares over to your sister-in-law who happily smiled back at you. She kissed your brother on his cheek and acted as if she didn’t know at all why you were glaring at her. 

You sat down on your chair, trying your best not to look at anything or anyone. You pretended not to be here at all. A deep huff behind your back told you he had found out about the seating situation now, too. Walter dragged his chair a bit back and sat down. 

“Max!” he muttered under his breath and you answered with a nonverbal grunt and a nod. Both of you did your best to stare into different directions. 

“You really like seeing me suffer, huh?” he asked after a while, still avoiding your gaze. “What do you mean?” You had done nothing and still, he was already angry with you. “Like there wasn’t any other table where you could have seated me. You need to humiliate me in every possible way.” Hold on? Did he think you were responsible for this bullshit? You were suffering just as much as him.

“So it’s humiliating to sit beside me? For real? What’s wrong with you, Walter? And just so you know, I’m not happy either, having to spend the evening looking into your dumb face.”

Walter scoffed at your answer and the two of you went back to ignoring each other until another guest approached you. An older lady sat down opposite of you two and introduced herself as Mrs. Goldstein, an aunt of Vicky. She smiled at you and Walter. “You’re such a sweet, good-looking couple.” Both Walter’s and your eyes got wide and you both started mumbling.

“No, no, we’re not a couple!” Walter said determinedly. “Just, uhm, old friends.” you added, not sure how to name the relationship you had with Walter in a friendly way without lying. 

The lady raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, feeling for Walter’s biceps. “Oh, then you don’t mind if I make a move on this attractive man?” Her eyes were glistening with mischief as she gave you a wink. You had to grab your champagne and take a huge sip to hide the laugh that was going to slip you. She repeated her wink as she turned to Walter and to your surprise he reacted with a playful smile. But when his look met yours and he saw your amusement, his eyes went dark. 

Thankfully, the table filled with more guests that helped you to ignore each other. The first course was served and you started eating. Which ended in the next argument with Walter. Being left-handed, you had to move your arm opposite to him and your elbows crashed together more than once as you tried to cut your meat. Every time you touched each other, Walter gave you an angry glare. “Would you just eat like a normal person without bumping into me all the time?” he snapped and you answered with an eye roll. “What do you expect? I can’t do this any different. Sorry that I’m not normal enough for you.” Of course, you could have tried to be more careful, you even would have been able to switch hands. But not for him. Especially not if he was acting like a baby over it.

To your own surprise, you made it through dinner and toasts without killing each other. The band started playing and you could have just mixed with the other guests, but you weren’t in the mood. You kept sitting beside Walter, who looked just as pissed as you.

When the third woman asking him for a dance got rejected, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer. It was just boiling in you. “Why do you keep saying no? All those ladies would love to have some fun with you. And I’m sure they would be in for a treat. You were good, even back then when we didn’t even know what we were doing. Guess you learned a few more tricks since then.”

Walter looked at you with more hatred than you had ever seen in his face. “Do you really want to talk about this? Here, now?” He was barely holding his voice down. You knew immediately that you’ve gone too far. Heat flashed over your cheeks as you only pressed out an embarrassed “No”. 

“Good! Because I surely don’t want to!” Was his voice trembling? You felt awful, and you silently cursed at your sister-in-law who ruined your evening by setting you up with your ex. No, ex wasn’t the right word. But what would you call it? The crush you fucked and then ghosted? You decided to just stop thinking about it. 

Mrs. Goldstein sat down on her chair again after a dance with one of Josh’s friends and was apparently eager to start another conversation with the two of you. “Walter, what do you do for a living?” she asked and Walter told her about his job as a police officer. He didn’t get into detail, but Mrs. Goldstein was glued to his lips. Then she turned to you. “And you, young lady?” 

Usually, you loved talking about your job, but now, with Walter listening, somehow you felt stupid. As if you were still the teenager who wrote fan fiction. “I’m an author.” you said, hoping she would turn back to talk with Walter, but her curiosity wasn’t satisfied yet. 

“Oh, interesting, what do you write, romances, something steamy?” She wriggled her eyebrows at Walter who couldn’t hold back a scoff. Meanwhile, you wanted to disappear, so you never would have to look into Walter’s face again. 

Why did you feel so ashamed? You were a good author. You puffed out your chest and answered. “No, mostly I write thrillers and crime stories.” This earned you another disapproving huff from Walter. 

Mrs. Goldstein didn’t seem to notice the hostility between the both of you. “Oh, so you can ask your friend for help when you need advice about police stuff.” 

Now Walter couldn’t hold back any longer. He let out a derogatory laugh. “She would never ask anyone for help, She’s too proud for something like that. Guess she rather still gets everything wrong. Like always.” 

Now you were the one glaring at Walter. What was he talking about? “What did I get wrong?” you shouted at him. 

It shocked you not to see anger and hate in Walter’s face as he looked at you. Instead, you saw hurt. “Me! You got me wrong! I was in love with you, Max. So much. But you broke my heart. And you never got it, did you? You never saw it? How much you hurt me, for giving me one night in heaven and then years in hell.” He shot up from his chair and stormed out of the room. 

When you got into the foyer, there was no sign of Walter and you cursed that it had taken you a moment until you were able to react and run after him. You glanced around helplessly. The guy at the reception looked at you and gave you a small smile. He pointed at the elevator and made an upwards gesture with his thumb. You nodded in thanks and got into the elevator. Walter could be anywhere. Probably he just left for his hotel room. And as nice as the guy at the reception seemed, he surely wouldn’t give you Walter’s room number. But then you saw the sign for the rooftop terrace. That would be a possibility. So you pressed the button and as you waited to get to the top level, you tried to gather a straight and logical thought, unsuccessfully, of course. 

But whatever thought you might have had, it got lost the moment the doors opened and you saw him. He was sitting on a stone bench, close to the balustrade, gazing over the lights of the city. He didn't seem to care about the drizzle, slowly soaking his suit. It reminded you of that night when he found you in front of that motel. In the soft light reflecting, even his face looked younger. 

You saw how his body tensed when he noticed the sound of your heels hitting the concrete tiles, but he didn't turn. Not even when you stood next to him.

“Can I sit?” you asked and Walter brushed the sleeve of his jacket over the bench to rub it dry for you, even though he still kept his gaze locked on the streets. The gesture gave you hope. He accepted you at his side, he even took care of you.

You slowly sank on the bench next to him and pointed your gaze at the lights of the city, just as he did. Both of you stayed silent for a while and somehow it felt comfortable, peaceful. Not even the cold raindrops were bothering you. But when your thoughts got too loud in your head, you finally spoke:

“You know I regret my decision every day, ever since that morning I left.” You turned to look at Walter, but he still didn’t move, it appeared as if he hadn’t even heard you. His apathy killed that small spark of hope inside of you and it was as if something cold gripped your heart tightly. And just the moment you wanted to leave and cry your heart out, his eyes locked with yours. 

“You do?” It was a whisper, barely audible. The look on his face didn’t give away any emotion. You cursed silently at this man’s stoic demeanor. Opening your heart would be so much easier if you could read at least a tiny expression on his face. 

“I broke my own heart, too, that day.” You wanted to say more, but you just couldn’t. Your mouth was dry, and your tongue felt heavy. Instead, tears formed in the corner of your eyes. 

Walter furrowed his eyebrows. He had tried to make sense of your behavior for years, hearing you say that you felt something for him too made everything just more absurd. He shook his head in disbelief as he asked you why. And you owed him an honest answer.

“I was so scared. I would have never thought you like me. I was sure it was just sex for you. And that you’d regret it. That you’d feel obligated to date me because you were stupid enough to screw your friend's sister who threw herself at you half naked and you got weak.” Something in Walter’s expression changed. He looked confused and hurt. He opened his mouth to speak, but you still needed to get some things out: “I thought you'd take me on a few dates and then find an excuse to get rid of me. And that would have made me fall in love with you even more. And then I would have had to see you anyway because you’d still hang out with Josh. The thought of this killed me. That’s why I decided to stop it before I got hurt. I thought it could save me from a heartache. And now look at me, still hurting after all those years.” The tears were falling now from your eyes, mixing with the rain on your cheeks. 

Walter startled you when he pulled you to his side. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, placing his arm on top. His other hand on your cheek, you felt the warmth that he radiated. The gentle gesture made your tears fall more freely. You were shaking, overwhelmed by all the emotions flooding you, now that you finally allowed yourself to be honest. 

“You should have told me, Max! I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you hated me for what I had done. For using you.” Walter’s voice was husky. “And I’m sorry I took opportunity of you. I am so very sorry.” He shut his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply before he spoke again. “ I should have done this differently. Asked you for a date, making it clear I want you as my girlfriend before…before that night.” He took another pause, shaking his head again. “You know, even though it hurt us so both so much, I never regretted that night. It's still my favorite memory. The moment I had you in my arms.”

Your heart was racing as you listened to Walter’s confession. “Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. I wanted it just as much as you. Damn, Walter, you’ve been asking me multiple times if I was sure.” 

Walter sighed, a sad smile playing on his lips: “That whole day I was so upset. Charlie had told me about your plans. And how Paul was being an ass about it, talking about it in the locker room. I was so fucking jealous. I needed to clear my head, so I drove around town. Guess driving by the motel was a half unconscious decision to be near you. And when I saw you sitting there in the rain, in your beautiful dress, I just couldn't form a proper thought anymore. I shouldn’t have gotten into this bed with you, not before telling you about my feelings. But I did, and it was the best moment in my life.”

You turned to him, your face only inches away from his. Was this possible? Was it possible that he had feelings for you? It felt like it. The way he talked, the way he looked at you. 

“We fucked this up badly, didn’t we?” he asked you, chuckling incredulously.

You shook your head. “There’s only one who fucked up all of this and that’s me. I should have given you a chance. Instead, I lied, I was mean and I hurt you, on purpose. Destroying the feelings you had for me and everything that could have been between us.” 

“Max!” You could have melted by the way he said your name. “You can’t take the blame for destroying my feelings. They are all still the same. And there could be a future for us. If you want me.” Walter cupped your face with both his hands and sank his forehead down on yours. The world stopped turning and the only thing that kept moving was your heart racing in your chest. 

He wanted you. He still wanted you after everything you had done to him. You got the chance to finally make the right decision. And you took it. As your lips collided with Walter's, the passion and intensity behind that kiss became palpable. As your tongues touched, everything around you blurred into mere background noise. And when your lips parted again, both of you were left breathless and struggling to grasp the magnitude of what had just happened. A spark of optimism ran through your veins. Maybe this was really a new beginning and your scars of the past could be healed. Everything ahead was uncertain, and it would have been a lie to say you weren’t scared, but with Walter's lingering touch still burning upon your lips, you felt the determination to nurture this second chance.

Walter still had your head cradled in his hands and pulled you in for another kiss. Your own hand reached for his jaw and your fingers raked through his coarse beard. His lips were soft and warm on yours and when he parted them your tongue slipped past, eager to taste him again. His cologne mixed with the scent of petrichor was intoxicating. A shiver ran down your spine as one of his hands slowly moved to your neck.

While you surrendered to your feelings, not letting go of one another’s mouth, the drizzle turned into a full-blown rain shower. It was only when the water was pouring down your faces that you finally broke the kiss. You were both laughing, sparks of joy in your eyes. 

“I think we should relocate to somewhere dry.” Walter remarked. Not waiting for your answer he got up and dragged you with him. Waiting for the elevator, his mouth was on yours again, just little pecks in between smiles, but they felt just as good as every other bit of love he had shown to you in the last minutes. The ride in the elevator was short, and Walter distracted you with his mouth and hands roaming over every bit of skin he could reach. Not stopping the kisses, you stumbled along the corridor and Walter fumbled in his pocket for his keys. 

Eventually, you were standing in a hotel room. Walter kicked the door shut and the next moment you were pressed against the wall. He stepped between your legs, his chest pining you in place, and resumed his assault on your mouth. His hands explored your body. One of them settling on your hip, the other one brushing down your thigh. He found the slit of your dress and took advantage of it, rucking up the fabric and feeling for your leg. His fingers caressed over the delicate material of your stockings, and he groaned when he reached the lacy border and then your naked skin.

“I need you to get out of this!” he said, his hands running over your dress. He found the zipper and pulled it down impatiently. The black satin pooled around your legs as he let go of the dress, and Walter took a step back to take you in. His eyes roamed over your face, then moved down, resting on your bare chest for a moment. As he moved further and looked at the lacy garter belt and the stockings attached to it, he bit his lip. “These need to stay on” he ruled. Just hearing him talking to you like this made you want to drop on your knees for him and surrender to your longing.

But Walter ruined your plans when he got on his knees himself, pulling down your thong unceremoniously. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. But the moment you thought you’d feel his mouth on you, he stopped. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle. “Damn, how many times did I curse myself that I didn’t get my mouth on that sweet pussy.” And then his tongue darted out to lick through your folds. You let your head sink back at the wall as he made you lose all your control, lapping and sucking on your clit like it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He rolled it between his lips and made you scream when his fingers pushed into you. He still knew exactly well where you needed to be touched. His mouth, his fingers inside of you, and his other hand playing with your hard nipple had you at the verge of toppling over the edge. But every time you thought you’d reach it, Walter stopped for a brief moment. You were squirming and whining and pleading, but Walter just chuckled.

When you thought your knees were about to give out, he finally showed mercy. His fingers pumped into you frantically as he grunted. “Come on my tongue, Max!” Hearing him, feeling him, you couldn’t do anything else as obey, and you screamed his name as your climax washed over you. His arms were cradling you, his hands firm on your sides, holding you close, when you weren’t able to control your own legs anymore. Walter raised to his feet again, picked you up and carried you to his bed. He dropped you onto the mattress, watching you hungrily. His hands made quick work of his bow tie and the buttons of his shirt, so when you knelt in front of him, you were able to rake your nails through the hair covering his chest. His shoulders were wider than you remembered, his pecs and abs more defined. “You’ve grown into a man,” you purred, and Walter laughed softly. You wanted to sink your teeth into his skin. And after kissing and licking over his neck, you did exactly this. You got rewarded with a deep moan.

You brushed his shirt down his arms, and then your fingers were on his pants, cupping the bulge that couldn’t be hidden under the soft fabric. Walter unbuttoned his slacks, and you helped him with the zipper and the boxers underneath. As soon as his cock sprang free a bead of pre-cum built at the tip of his cock and you licked your lip as you saw it. “Let me taste you,” you begged, and without waiting for an answer, your tongue flicked over his swollen head. Walter hissed at the sensation, his fingers digging into your arms. After wetting your lips, you took him into your mouth, slowly sucking and circling your tongue around the tip. Walter carefully pushed deeper into your mouth, and you let him, taking him all the way to the back of your throat. With hollowed cheeks you looked up at him, and the feelings that rushed through you as you saw him almost made you cry. He was watching you with hooded eyes, full of lust and love. 

You both moved in the same steady rhythm, Walter’s hips pushing forwards and your head bobbing up and down along his cock until Walter was breathing heavily and curses were falling from his lips. Your hand cupped his balls, slowly caressing them. Walter let you keep going like that for another few moments, but when his moans got louder and more desperate, he finally pulled out of your mouth. His thumb brushed over your swollen and tingling lips, and he leaned down to press a kiss on them. “I need to have you, now!” 

He pushed you to lay back and crawled between your legs, pumping his cock as his eyes darted over your tits and pussy. “Goddammit, you’re so beautiful!” he growled. Another few strokes, then he moved backwards. “Don’t you dare move. Stay exactly like this!” he told you, and you did. Keeping your legs open for him, biting your lip, you watched him as he searched through his jacket, fishing a condom out of his wallet. 

Within seconds, Walter was between your legs again, his cock sheathed now. His body engulfed you, and then you felt his cock slowly stretching you open. You both moaned in unison, locking your eyes with each other when Walter bottomed out inside of you. He pressed his lips on yours, kissing you fervently when he started to move. 

While he kept thrusting into you, your nails left red streaks over his back. You were desperate for him to take you, pressing your heels into his back, moaning and whimpering. Walter was just as lost in his desires as you, rutting into you almost violently. He grabbed your knee and threw your leg over his shoulder, straddling your other thigh. When he sank into you again, your eyes rolled back. His cock brushed over your most sensitive spot mercilessly, you felt him so deep inside of you. To make you go totally insane, he rubbed his thumb over your clit with every thrust. You were shouting profanities at him, begging him, trying to fight back the tears that started to fall. 

“Let go, baby! Let me see how you look when you come around my cock!” He rocked his hips into you, faster and harder, until you finally exploded, your legs shaking. “That’s my girl,” Walter cooed, leaning down to press wet kisses on your neck. But he wasn’t yet done with you. He manhandled you to lay on your stomach. “Get your sweet little ass over here!” he ordered, and you moved to all fours, raising your bottom invitingly to him. His hands kneaded your ass cheeks, accompanied by a content groan of his. “Look at that juicy little pussy!” His fingers brushed through your folds, circling your entrance and then moving further up, teasing your puckered hole. You squirmed, a wanton gasp leaving your lips. “Hm, you like that, don’t you? I’ll keep that in mind for another time.” You could tell he had a smug grin on his face even when your face was buried in the bedsheets right now. 

Then his cock was driving into you again. The lewd sounds from both Walter and you echoed through the room as Walter fucked you into oblivion. He lost his rhythm now, rutting desperately into you. You felt he was close. His arms wrapped around your chest, pulling you up to him. He sank his teeth into your shoulder when he reached his climax, spilling his seed into the latex as his hips stuttered behind you. 

You both collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily, but with a smile spread over your faces. Walter brushed a sweaty streak of hair out of your face before he pressed his lips onto yours. This kiss was nothing like the passionate, hungry kisses you had shared earlier. It was gentle and sweet and lovingly. And your heart skipped a beat when you realized that all the love you both felt was still there, even after you had stilled your desire. It was still palpable and not threatening to vanish. Walter nuzzled his nose into your neck, holding you close. You could have fallen asleep like that, if that memory hadn’t appeared in your mind that moment.

You laughed, raking your fingers through Walter’s curls. Walter frowned at you, though not losing the wide smile that was spread over his face. “What’s so funny?” he asked, and you were a little ashamed to admit, but then you told him anyway.

“You really learned a trick or two. And you definitely worked on your stamina.” 

Walter chuckled and pressed a kiss on your cheek. He whispered into your ear: “Hey, I don’t think I did a bad job back then, considering I was a teenager having his first time.” Your eyes went wide.

“What? It was your first time as well? But.. I didn’t know. I mean… You were in college. I thought you already…” You felt heat crawling up your neck. It wasn’t as if this information would change anything, but somehow it warmed your heart.

Walter laughed at your stammering. “I was waiting for the right one, Max.” 

*****

You woke up and for a tiny moment you considered if everything was just a wonderful dream, but then you heard the soft snores at your back and when you turned you saw him, lying on his stomach, hugging his pillow, his curls fallen into his beautiful face. You must have watched him for hours, and still, there was nothing in the world that you wanted to do instead of it. Well, maybe one or two things, but these involved Walter as well.

Then he finally opened his eyes. When he saw you watching him, his lips curled into a smile. “Hey!” you greeted him, and he gave you a "hey" back, his voice still hoarse from sleep. 

“You’re still here,” he remarked, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you close. You pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “I won’t run away anymore, Walter,” you promised him. You kissed again, and when you pulled away, you smiled mischievously. “Also, I don’t have any dry clothes, so I can’t leave.”

Walter chuckled. “What a pity. Guess we have to stay in bed, then.”

[runnning-outof-time]

Congratulations on the 3.5k followers again! You are such a loved member of this Peaky community, it really wouldn't be the same without you ❤️. From your prompt list I'm gonna go with the very last one, "I didn't get your name" and of course I will be picking Tommy 😉. Really looking forward to see what you come up with!

Thanks so much for the love, Brummie! I was secretly hoping someone would send this one in. I hope you like what I’ve done with it! I’m trying to get back on the horse after not writing for a bit - this one happened differently in my mind, but I just couldn’t put it to words….I hope it’s still alright though. Also I’m sorry if it looks silly with the same gifs going - I wanted to use the one you sent with your ask but the spacing looked weird without it under the title. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — find other stories here!

To Unbearable Parties…

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 1018

Summary: (Y/N) and Tommy both meet someone who makes the social function they’re at a little more bearable.

People sauntered around the room, going from group to group, discussing everything under the sun: from business dealings to societal crazes. Drinks were flowing and the band was playing an uptempo song that was good to dance to. No one batted an eye at anything that was happening, because that’s just what went on at these types of parties. (Y/N) absolutely hated it.

She stood in the outskirts of the crowd, her arms semi-crossed as she held a glass of champagne in one hand. Her eyes scanned the crowd, thinking of all of the places instead of here that she’d rather be.

Upon reaching the bottom of her glass, (Y/N) made her way over to the bar. She hoped that she’d be able to quickly get a refill so that she could return to the outskirts of the room again. The bar was situated too close to the middle of the room for her comfort.

She was just about ready to head back after receiving a new glass when she overheard the bartender speaking to the man on her right. “I’m so sorry sir, but we are not serving that here tonight.”

“Fuck sakes,” the man mumbled. (Y/N) easily caught the annoyance in his voice. “You mean to tell me that there’s not a bottle of whiskey here?”

“Not one,” the barman answered with a shake of his head, “we were given strict instructions by Mr. Marshall to have only champagne and other light refreshments in order to make sure that there is not a repeat of the last year’s gala,” he then explained the reason behind the absence of stronger liquor.

The man pressed his palms against the bar, leaning against it before he nodded, “I’ll have a glass of champagne then,” he conceded, speaking like he’d lost a fight.

“I’ll get that right away for you,” the barman nodded, quickly getting to work on fetching the man his drink. “Here you are,” he said once the drink was ready. The man nodded once, accepting the glass before he turned and rested his back against the bar.

“It’s actually pretty good, you know,” (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from speaking.

“Excuse me?” the man questioned her, turning to face her as he spoke. There was no hint of any sort of anger present in his words. He just hadn’t heard what she said.

(Y/N) got a better look at him now, and upon being given a front facing view of his harsh haircut, she concluded that he was one of the only people who could make it work. Her eyes got stuck on his sharp, blue ones. So stuck that she forgot he asked a question.

“The champagne,” she blurted out, hoping that he didn’t catch her staring, “it’s not a go to of mine, but has been pretty good this evening,” she added, raising her glass to show him she’d been drinking the same.

The man only tipped his head upwards before he brought the glass to his lips, drinking a good amount of the alcohol in one go. “Not bad,” he commented as he sat the glass down on the bar.

(Y/N) only offered a small smile before she offered a silent parting, leaving the bar to go back to the edge of the room. She went back to surveying the room; watching all of the other partygoers enjoy themselves. Why am I even here? she wondered, maybe I should just leave. But before she could, a familiar face approached her.

“You’ve been over here all night,” the man from the bar commented as he approached her.

“You’ve been watching me?” she questioned him, quirking an eyebrow as a smile teetered on her lips.

“No,” he quickly shook his head, “just haven’t noticed you anywhere else.”

“So you’ve been looking for me?” the smile was fully present on her lips now.

The man let out a breath of a chuckle, looking to the floor for a moment. He liked the quick-wittedness of this woman, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had her stuck in his mind since their interaction at the bar.

“You don’t seem to want to be here,” he said once he looked her way again.

“I could say the same for you,” she turned it right back on him, biting her bottom lip as she held his gaze, “you seemed to be rather frustrated at the bar earlier.”

“This isn’t enough to get me through the evening,” he commented, holding up his fourth glass of champagne to show her what he meant.

“I hear you there,” she smiled softly, nodding her head in agreement.

“I didn’t get your name,” he said then, his eyebrows raised slightly as he awaited her response.

“It’s (Y/N),” she smiled as she gave her answer, looking him up and down then. “I didn’t get yours either,” she stated, her eyes finding his once more.

“Tommy,” his answer was simple. (Y/N) nodded, committing it to memory. She was certain that she wouldn’t be forgetting this man any time soon. “Well, (Y/N), how about a toast, eh?” he suggested after a few moments had passed.

“What are we toasting to, Tommy?” she asked, trying his name out for herself; liking the sound of it coming off of her lips just as much as she liked the sound of hers coming off of his.

“To unbearable parties,” he announced, holding his glass up, winking as he did so. (Y/N) didn’t miss the way that his eyes trailed over her frame as he spoke.

A grin formed on her face, loving the feeling of his eyes on her. Maybe this party wasn’t so bad after all. “To unbearable parties…” she started off, biting on her lip to conceal her grin as she clinked her glass with his, “to unbearable parties that become bearable enough when you find someone to spend the night with,” she added, letting her grin show as they both brought their glasses down to take a drink from them.

To unbearable parties, indeed.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[tinuvielsblog]

I won’t make the joke I was going to make…

Cary Grant in Operation Petticoat || Dir. George Marshall

[pauking5]

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 3 🏁

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, sports rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, spice

Word count: 15.2k+

A/N: Curious who's going to catch the Tokyo Drift reference 😏 Hope you're ready for the storm cause lightning and thunder just met for real in this one. It was literal hell to write at times, but I wanted to get more accurate with it and bring you as close to the view in my head as possible, so sorry for the delay. Tried my hand at writing tension so I hope it's good. Enjoy lovelies. Smooches to you :)

Raiko's Playlist: Bad Boy - Red Velvet, High Horse - Kacey Musgraves, Antisocial - Ed Sheeran, Travis Scott, True Disaster - Tove Lo, "good guy" - Against The Current, Summer Jam - 99 RZNS, John Gibbons, KOOLKID, How Bad Do You Want It (Oh Yeah) - Sevyn Streeter, Pump It - Black Eyed Peas, Tokyo Drift - Teriyaki Boys, Morning After Dark - Timbaland, Nelly Furtado.

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Day 3 of Tour de Tokai - Final stages

The sun was up before you could catch any sleep, peaking through the thick blinds with bright beams. That brightness didn't bode well with the small hangover brewing between your pinched eyebrows. A remainder of the excessive amounts of champagne you drank last night and the really excited twosome next door, working hard to drill a hole in the wall behind your head all night long.

At one point, they quieted down and you were near falling asleep until they went at it again and again, and you contemplated sleeping in the bathtub.

Putting on your golden blue team kit and the darkest shades you could find in the mess of luggage, you packed and dragged your heavy bags into the hallway and pressed the button on the lift for reception. You caught your reflection in the shiny silver doors and thanked god no one saw you yet. Your hair was a half-tangled mess, hidden under the team baseball cap well enough. Only two days on the job and you already had sunken in eye bags, but those were probably from the amazing beauty sleep you had the night before.

I had better days, you blew out a breath pulling up your shades.

Bags checked out and safely loaded into the airport car until later, you headed for the track. Walking out to the biggest stand on the hill overlooking the road for today, you scanned the grounds. It was still pretty early but the crowds were already making their way to the stands to get the best seats - right in the sputter of a dusty drift corner. The dirt must be doing wonders for their skin if they paid so much to sit there willingly, you thought, grimacing at the dried up mud painting most of the sun-bleached seats.

At least it was a quiet spot to just do some people watching and wake yourself up. You watched the food court vendors open the back doors to their vans before getting to work on the food. Some people were sat on the trunk of their cars, huddled in blankets or hoodies, eating a makeshift breakfast before queuing up for entrance. The race marshals were putting up the access signs and doing other maintenance checks.

The spring breeze blew softly feeling like a refreshing cup of coffee you didn't have yet. Early mornings like these were the best. Just quiet and mundane. Slow and pleasant.

Your peaceful perusal was interrupted by a figure settling in on your right, mimicking your leaned back posture on the wooden fence next to the race banner, hands crossed over your chest and all. You didn't even need to look over to know who it was. The expensive combination of lemony vanilla and other bitter, citrusy fruits entered your nostrils like ten meters ago, before he even stopped next to you.

How can someone so irritating smell so good?

"How did you sleep?" he spoke, voice low and husky, still laced with blissful sleep. A luxury mere mortals are unable to acquire at the expense of divine hedonism. Though, if that was how gods fucked, you wished to never hear it again. The girl's moans replayed like a broken record in your head even now, voice sweet like cotton candy reaching impossible notes.

Jesus Christ, you shuddered, trying your hardest to get rid of the image you just accidentally put in your head.

"I didn't," you said with a tight-lipped smile, turning to the devil beside you. He did look well-rested. "Hearing your name being moaned until three in the morning kinda ruined the peace one needs to sleep."

"I told you to join us," he shrugged, like he was asking you to join a grocery run and definitely not a threesome call. "It was a good sex catch."

I hope that angel never comes across his dick again.

Staring ahead, you hoped that if you ignored him, he would make himself scarce like he did last night at the car reveal. Instead, he leaned over to your side, lips slightly brushing the side of your ear with another offer that made your skin crawl with tendrils of chills, branching out from your nape all the way down to your spine.

"You know, we could've moved the show to your room. Get you out and about with the masses. Learn a thing or two."

You could taste the malice in his voice, looking to throw you off with raw sex talk. He pulled back to his corner, that annoying grin bright as day on his face, way too enthusiastic about his choice of words after last night.

He should work on his sweet nothings some more.

"I have my fair share with the masses. Don't you worry your frozen little braincells with that," you said, trying to shake off those chills still dancing on your spine.

"Ah, so she does get action," he laughed dryly, tilting forward with another remark he was better off keeping to himself. "I couldn't tell."

A little burst of mischief raised in you, so you turned to face him fully, pulling your shades off. Your body acted on a mindless spurt of small revenge as one of your hands lapped itself around his shoulder, gripping the other in balance and to pull him towards you, while the other rested on top of his chest. Under your palm, his heartbeat was calm and steady, just like the engine of the car before the race.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you scanned his face to see the ever-present amusement etched into every chiseled dent of his jaw, high cheekbones and perfectly angled lips. You wondered if dimples would pop out on the sides if he ever smiled for real, not just in a teasing manner or for show. Was he even capable of smiling?

The more your eyes drove up his face, the wider that eager glint in his eyes got. In the morning sun, rising brighter over the hill behind you, golden beams reflected off his orbs much like fiery bronze specks glinting off regal statues.

That eagerness turned to confusion when you inched closer to his ear, your lips brushing his in the same way his did. Your breath ghosted over his neck and you felt the smallest rise in his pulse, the muscles in his back tensing under your hold. You spoke small, but loud enough to cover the buzz of the rave music catching volume in the stands, making sure he received every single word.

"You know what would be a better catch?" you asked, tone sweet and tempting like a fiend.

His head craned down slightly and he quirked an eyebrow at you, curious as to where you were taking this. Only for it to not be in the direction he expected it to go in.

"Breaking that penis of yours in two and scattering pieces of it on the track like it's fucking gravel for everyone to drive over it. That," you enforced your threat with a swift gaze at his precious groin then moved your eyes back to his, "would be the catch of the year."

His lips parted in disbelief, the smug look on his face gone completely, as if you just detonated a bomb with his very own hand on it.

That was an unofficial war announcement. Jaw tightened in bold offensive, you stood your ground waiting for his retaliation. Your hand was still on his chest waiting for that spike to come again. But it never did.

Slowly but surely, the look in his eyes morphed to one of challenge, burning with the dire need to crush you to pieces for that daring threat.

Was this a novelty to him? A woman driving the reality train through his brain without having her legs open for him? Possibly. Because his smirk was now taut, filled with the same vindictive goading you carried. Just a tad bit darker and full of hunger for battle.

"I would like to see you try, rookie."

Rookie.

That nickname was starting to get on your nerves. Though there was no lie in it because you were a rookie in the sport, the way he said it implied that there was nothing else to you but that - a clueless beginner that will always stay a clueless beginner. Belittling at its finest. Your temper didn't buy belittling very well.

"Listen here you asswipe-" you started, only to get cut off by Don Tanaka's voice closing in behind you.

"Rai, the crew's waiting for... you..."

The words died in Tanaka's throat the more he took in how curled up you were with Naozumi. At first he was about to reprimand you for dealing cahoots with the enemy again, but when his eyes fell on the teeth grinding murderous looks you both threw each other, he decided on breaking it off before the interaction turned violent.

"Rai, step away from Naozumi."

"This. isn't. over," you gritted out with poison, plying yourself away from him.

Pushing your sunglasses back up your nose and throwing one more sharp imaginary knife right in the middle of his annoyingly handsome face devoid of imperfections, you sourly turned and left with Tanaka.

"I think it is, princess," he muttered behind you.

"Just you wait."

The really funny thing about curses is that they never truly... leave.

They might take a break and sip a cocktail somewhere sunny, like the big white-bearded gramps dressed in red does in his vacation after Christmas, letting you bask in some sort of chill ambiguity that all is well and perfect. Until nothing is well and perfect. Just absolutely horrifying and close to provoking a collective meltdown. Quite like the one in your team pen at the moment.

The team was gathered around the car with discouraged looks decorating all their faces as Sentaro, the main mechanic, relayed the news to you. Not one soul moved, everything and everyone as still as your shut off engine.

This had to be some sick joke. There was no way this is happening.

"What do you mean I can't go out on track today? You're joking right?" you laughed nervously, trying to stop your eye from twitching violently.

Apparently, the mechanics tried to start the engine and black smoke came out of it. While that issue was partly because of a clogged air filter that was vacuumed clean now, the engine also overheated to the point they thought it would blow up if they let it run longer.

From your brief experience with cars and growing up around the team garage, you had a feeling of what the issue could be.

"Is the dashboard blinking with the high oil pressure sign?" you asked Sentaro to which he nodded in response.

You were in front of the car in an instant, popping the hood open to check the oil injection. Pulling out the dipstick on a clean cloth your assumptions were proven right, though you wished they were horribly wrong. The rough dirt roads from yesterday definitely took a toll on the engine's oil filter, judging by the black sludge you were met with instead of the normal light brown color of the motor oil.

Dropping down to the ground with your phone's flashlight, you looked under the car and sure enough, there was a trail of the same dark goo leaking out from the car. The oil filter was the problem. And lucky for you, the oil specialized mechanic wasn't here today.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," said Tanaka, leaning on the side of the car. "There's nothing we can do."

Before you could even browse solutions, Kate ran in the pen nearly tripping over her feet. Thanks to Tanaka's steady hold, she landed upright on her feet, giving him a shy look of gratitude that didn't go unnoticed by you. They held each other's gaze for a while, not one thought behind them but a tinge of affection.

Realizing they had an audience, she cleared her throat stepping away from him. His hand shot up to rub his nape with a nervous smile.

What was that about? you thought, scrunching your nose inquisitively at the two. The faint blush spreading on her cheeks and the playful look in his eyes was a bit of a dead give away of what went on between the two. The car issue was more of a priority right now than their mutual fancy. I'll pester them about it later.

"What's up, Kate?"

Your voice seemed to break her out of whatever reverie she was having.

"The pre-race press conference starts in fifteen," she announced, eyes grazing over your team kit before flying back to yours with confusion. "Why are you not in your racing suit yet? What's going on?"

"I'll explain on the way," you replied hastily.

You moved away from the car to grab your bag and went to change in the trailer with her following in tow. Turning back around, your eyes flew back to Tanaka and the rest of the crew.

If the big man was here, he would know what to do. But he left for Tokyo early in the morning for a business meeting with a new sponsor. You were completely on your own with the team, and from the looks of it, it was time to take the lead.

"Nothing you can do," you said with a small smile trying to bring some optimism back into the sour mood. "There's something I can do. Just don't touch the engine until I'm back from the conference."

"Also, go tell the organizers I'm retiring from the first stage and keep them posted on the second one," you told Tanaka, ignoring Kate's gasp of shock. "We might still have a shot at points today. We worked too hard to let that go."

With that, you ran back to the trailer behind the pen, getting changed while Kate's worries doubled and spilled over yours in a frenzy of overly dramatic and stressed hand gestures.

"What do you mean retiring from the first stage? Are you crazy?"

Taking off the kit with a grunt, you made haste for the fireproofs and the suit.

"Not crazy," you groaned, pushing your legs through the pants of the racing suit. "Just trying not to freak out because it won't help anyone if I do."

"The car has an issue that's preventing me from taking part in the first stage today, but I hope," you breathed out, struggling to pull the top part of the suit over your hips, "that we can somehow get it out on track at least for the second stage."

With the already smoldering heat outside and your growing nerves, the ensemble felt so uncomfortable to wear. Pulling your arms through the sleeves and zipping it up to your neck, you fiddled with the soft collar unable to close it properly. Kate swatted your hands away to help you fix it so you could be out the door. Though you couldn't do that without your driver's card that was nowhere to be found.

"On a scale of one to ten, how big are your hopes of that actually happening?"

You stopped your relentless searching for your identification lanyards only to find them in the safe hold of Kate's hands.

"A solid eleven," you paused, grabbing them with a grateful smile. "On a good day. We'll have to see if today is one of those."

You were out of the trailer in no time, heading for the conference room while she ran you through possible questions you could get asked by the stingy reporters. Before you went on stage to take your designated seat, she pulled you back around for a last check.

"You know what you have to say?" she asked, placing her hands on your shoulders to make you focus.

Narrowing your eyes at her with a 'I'm not a child' look, you recounted the rules of publicity she made you repeat before each press meeting. Or more like your very own not so accurate version of them.

"No snarky replies, wait for my turn and try to maintain the already crumbling image we have. No biggie."

She smacked your cheeks together, shaking you hard to bring you back from sarcasm land. Better sarcasm than a full blown meltdown. You rolled your eyes at her dramatic antics, reciting the actual holy trinity of rules to get her off your case.

"If it's not for my own benefit or the team's, don't reply. Avoid all questions about my or dad's personal life with a simple 'no comment'. Keep levelheaded and avoid conflicts of interest," you finished confidently, but with a slight confusion on the last one.

She nodded with a bright smile, letting go of your cheeks. Whirling you around, she made quick work of your hair in a ponytail and fixed your team cap on top of your head to look more professional than you felt at the moment.

"You've got this, Rai," she encouraged sweetly like she always did. "I'll be right here in case of anything."

"Thanks Yuzu," you smiled at her, trying to ease her stress before it rubbed off on you, turning you into a ticking bomb. "I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one," she quipped as a matter of factly.

"Yeah, yeah," you waved her off, turning for the stage. "I'll tell dad to add a holiday bonus to your paycheck."

"All debts are paid," she replied, sounding like an ATM machine that just cashed out your first salary before you even saw it in the account.

You went up the stairs, taking a seat behind your name tag, near the middle row on the lower side of the makeshift stage. Most drivers were already in their seats waiting for the show to start so you could all be on your way. You caught sight of Akira about two chairs down to the left, already clocking you with a small wave.

At least there's some sunshine in the world.

You leaned over the seat, turning the mic away. He scooched over, meeting you halfway with a short smile that was enough to send butterflies swarming wildly in your stomach.

"Hello there."

"Hi," you replied sheepishly. "You ready for today?"

"I hope so. The tracks today look way better than whatever the fuck those three were yesterday."

You both shared a horrified look remembering the disaster that almost left your cars in totaled wrecks the day before.

"What about you? Ready?"

"It's complicated," you looked down in disdain, conscious of the mess awaiting you in the team pen after the conference.

What was the point in elaborating further? He's going to see the scoreboard anyway. The retirement issue was better kept under wraps for now, in case press inched to you like leeches before they even got to ask you a question.

"Hogging my seat doesn't look that complicated."

That tone of mixed delight and irritation could only belong to one person. That and the shady vibes prickling the hairs on the back of your neck like the very shadows of death were about to swallow you into the underworld.

Sure enough, craning your head backwards Naozumi was right behind you. Alarm bells rang in your head replaying his words again. His seat? What the fuck is he on- Your eyes fell back on the name tag right beside yours, reflecting Naozumi Hiyama back at you, bright as the light of day. Oh.

Naozumi was to be seated on your left for the next half an hour. What a joy. For some poor sick bastard, definitely not for you.

How did I not notice it before I sat down? I could've switched seats with the backfield guys in a heartbeat and no one would know a thing.

Looking back behind you, your small hope was crushed as most seats were taken up already, busting your escape plan. Your gaze landed back on the man, now more interested to know how much of your conversation he heard.

"How long have you been standing there like a scarecrow?"

"Enough to almost physically gag at your conversation."

Ah, there he was. Repulsion in human form. Wonderful.

You bid Akira an apologetic smile and leaned back in your seat, letting nation's finest walk by to take his own. He held onto your backseat to let himself down in his. Leaning way too close to you again, you caught an extra accidental whiff of that expensive perfume of his, toned down by the scent of the burnt rubber fumes caught to his suit. You turned your head away with a breath, resisting the urge not to choke. From the snicker on his lips pointed downwards, you could tell he did that on purpose. Fucker.

It wasn't long and the press conference finally commenced. As expected you weren't first in line for questions, both to your relief and growing unease. Your thoughts ran back to the car. The longer you spent here, looking pretty for the media that could care less, the less time you got to spend on fixing the car. Changing the oil filter was relatively less time consuming than the oil draining and changing. Besides, who knew if there weren't other problems. There were always problems.

Tapping your feet impatiently under the table, your eyes trained on the digital clock at the back of the room, mentally pushing the flickering red dots bouncing between the numbers a tad bit faster. Boring questions aimed at the other drivers went in through your ears, fading together, getting lost into an incorrigible mess of side thoughts, all while you dissociated somewhere far away.

At some point, something heavy moved on top of your leg that seems to have taken on incessant bouncing. You broke your eyes away from the clock to check. Thinking it must have been a bug or your sleep-deprived hallucination, you were beyond surprised to see a hand resting there, all five fingers of it splayed wide on top of your knee, nearly enveloping it whole.

Following the path of the muscular, veiny hand to the grey material going up the plush arm of a racing suit, you found it connected to Naozumi's shoulder. His gaze was set ahead with his chin propped on his other hand, a bored look taking over his usual amusement.

Is he looking for entertainment again?

Focusing your attention back on the press crowd, you went to push it off briskly. You felt it slide off your leg, shutting your eyes in relief that he let go and didn't put it back, going back to your daydream.

The clock ticked by infuriatingly slower, and by the looks of it, only ten boring minutes passed. You resumed your foot tapping, unable to keep cool without releasing tension in a way that kept you calm and levelheaded for the rest of the conference. You even started repeating Kate's set of three rules, again and again, until they blurred together in your head into a mess of words.

Unconsciously, you resumed the knee bouncing. That's when the same familiar weight sat back on top of your knee, trying to cease your restless shaking. You groaned mentally, aware that there was nothing else you could do but let his hand sit there until he got bored of being annoying.

Was it weird that the touch gave you a small ounce of comfort? It was so far from an actual touch, closer to a simple brush. But it grounded you back to reality in a less impatient way than your nervous foot tapping.

Jesus, Rai. The man fucked the sleep out of your brain last night. He's trying to get under your skin.

Leaning forward on your hands, you shifted your position so your feet crossed under your seat in hopes his hand would slide down again. His grip never lessened, turning firmer on top of your knee, seeing right through your trick. You huffed a breath through your nose, trying to calm down before you shoved your fist heavy with rage in his beautiful face to do some overdue damage, since he was asking for it so nicely.

In your line of sight, you saw him reach down for his water bottle, right beside his leg. His hand trailed down your calf with the movement, only for it to slide back up to its original spot on your knee.

This wasn't anywhere near comforting. This was teasing. Maybe even payback for this morning for invading his space with violent threats of castration. The side of his lip curled up in the slightest, letting you know he was enjoying tormenting you a whole lot.

Since he's so into masochism, we'll see how brave he is next time when I sneak in a lighter. The suit might be fireproof but I don't think his fingers are.

Somewhere between Naozumi's idiotic game and your patience running thin for the male species, the press finally remembered you existed and your name was called out by a reporter.

"I'm Hina from Daily Times. I have a question for Rai Suruki of Suruki Racing."

"Go on," you nodded with a smile.

"There haven't been a lot of female entries to rally in past years. Are there some goals you hope to achieve with your participation in the Seiko Rally Cup Series?"

That was quite a nice question. She seemed a little unsure of herself, probably new on the job since she was already being mangled down by the experienced male gazes in the room, especially from the reporter clique.

Turns out rally isn't the only industry where women are not welcomed.

"Well," you started, "I hope that if more girls see me out there on track, they can gain the courage to get racing too. Be it karting, rally or any other series. I grew up seeing my father's generation race and it felt daunting getting into it in the first place, since there was little to no female involvement. But times are changing and I hope it's for the better. Goal-wise, I would say the biggest one is to get girls into the sport, technically or behind the wheel," you ended with another smile, making sure she got a good amount of detail to work from.

That encouraged her to show you a bright smile in gratitude before she sat back down. You nodded back at her with one that matched.

"For Raiko Suruki, from Automotive Racing," called out another reporter, much older than the rest. "Heard the car is totally self-manufactured. How's the pace on track so far?"

Ah, technical questions. I like those.

"So far it's good. We're still testing bits and pieces to see what works best, but so far it's responding well to our tinkering. Like any car there's setbacks, as you may have seen in the previous stages, but we're working to remedy that and maximize its current performance. There's a lot of power under that hood and we're trying to see just how much of it we can bring out."

He nodded, scribbling down your words in a stacked leather notebook filled to the brim that has definitely seen better days. At least that said he's passionate about the sport and not just here to get a quote for a flimsy article. True to that, he geared up with another question.

"Performance progress-wise, do you think it's a car able to compete for the cup this year? Maybe even to reach the WRC?"

It was a reach to aim for the title, knowing the team barely got back on the road. But it was a goal nonetheless.

"Absolutely," you answered right away. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't. As for the WRC, I guess it's all in due time."

"I'm looking forward to your evolution. Thank you," he concluded his short round of questions, sitting back in his seat.

"One more question for Miss Suruki," shouted another reporter. "From Tokyo Action Sport."

Uh-oh.

Tokyo Action Sport was one of the big ones Kate told you to be wary of. Due to their huge coverage of all sports around the country, sports buffs took their word like it was the weekly Ten Commandments in print form. That and the fact that they liked to scandalize most, if not all of their headlines - basically the foul celeb tabloids in dirty sports version.

From the way the reporter twirled the pen around his nimble fingers and the sneer on his face as he skimmed over his fancy notebook, you could tell he was looking for another front page story with an equally disarming question at the ready. You nodded for him to talk, bracing yourself for the incoming attack.

"Last night, at the official car reveal, you said you will compete for Suruki Racing until the team no longer wants you," he started, lifting his icy eyes from the paper to cut through you. "Does that mean your contract has an expiry date?"

If there was a question that, when uttered out loud, would have the power to open the gates of hell, it would be this one.

Expiry date? Driving for the team that has my name on it? Fuck me if I know.

Your nervous tapping resumed tenfold, forgetting all about Naozumi's hand that was still stationed on your leg, now struggling to stay there in the wake of the shaky earthquake coursing through you with the sharp truth of the real world.

You never thought of the possibility of driving for another team. Right from the start, Suruki Racing was to be your forever home. For Christ sake, you were the only hope for the team to stay alive at the moment. But that was just your opinion, maybe Tanaka shared it. But the team might still be adamant to take you as their only viable option and that might just be the case for your father too.

Nothing guaranteed that you will always be their number one choice.

"Why did Suruki Racing pick you out of the wider talent pool out there?"

"Are you trying for yourself or for him?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

Your nervous shaking was several tempos away from rattling the panel table and attracting attention you were better off without at the moment. The aftermath of that happening was already in sight.

Suruki Racing's finest cracks under the pressure of her first press conference, would read the first page in the later Sunday print.

Is Suruki's own bloodline able to keep the legacy with no surety of a long-term contract? another one would say.

If you were lucky they would put it on the second spread or in the middle pages next to some old car adverts. But the worst part of it all is that the majority of the rally community, including the panel of drivers around you, would wholeheartedly agree with the newspapers.

Maybe this was just you making movies in your head but those were always possibilities upon possibilities and they all pointed to failure. Your failure of saving the team and seeing it succeed if you caved in to them.

The weight on top of your knee moved higher up your leg, stopping mid-way on your thigh. Enraged out of your mind, you were about to swat if off like a fly just when Naozumi did the unthinkable - his thumb started rubbing the side of your leg in circles over the suit, alternating patterns. You could feel that touch burn even through the triple permeable fireproof layers, sending all your senses in override, heartbeat pounding louder in your ears with each languid stroke of his thumb.

Was he trying to calm you down? Or was this him riding on the wave of anger surfacing from the depths of your very being to make you inch closer to exploding? Because there was a thin line between the two and you struggled to find which direction he was steering in today.

Strangely, that mildly provoking but oddly comforting caress worked. It calmed you down and drowned the black hole your mind went down into, bringing your focus back on the task at hand - giving the reporter an answer before your silence was taken as one.

"I'm afraid not," you responded, your voice bouncing back way too quiet on the microphone for it to sound like you were sure of yourself.

A handful of chuckles erupted behind you, rippling down into the audience and the rest of the media crews around the room.

"Everyone has an expiry date on their contracts, doll," commented a gruff voice from behind you. "Better find it out before the press does," they added with a chuckle.

You turned around to match the rude remarks with Katsumi's face, driver for Top Rank Racing. From what you knew about the man, he's been in rally long enough to know that he was right. Though he could've delivered that a bit more nicely.

Casting an unsure look at Kate, you saw her beckon you to say something else, mouthing several pointers that fell unheard with your growing unease. There was nothing else to say. That was the pure truth. No one had a safe seat in rally, except if you were Akira with loads of talent or Naozumi with a shit ton of cash to throw around. But you... you were lucky if there was a next year for you at all. And that might just be the case for your team too, whether it takes off or it burns to charred ashes again. Whether they keep you with them or not. And that realization hurt the deepest of them all.

"There you go again with useless questions, Misano," spoke Naozumi, successfully diverting your attention away from a meltdown.

His voice carried out smooth like whiskey over the shushed murmurs in the room, able to charm the attention of even the stingiest creature. His dark brown eyes were throwing sharp daggers with the aim to impel the man in the middle of the press convoy, almost like he had some personal vendetta against him, able to see past his journalistic tricks better than anyone.

From the few words he uttered your way you could tell why.

"Why don't you wrack your brain for something more interesting to ask?" he added bitterly.

Misano could only glare at him, shifting his attention from you to the man beside you, much more poison seeping from his tone at being interrupted.

"I was just about to get to you Naozumi. Impatient as always," he sneered. "I do have a really good one," he chuckled lowly to himself, like he was about to get the scoop of the century.

Naozumi was absolutely unfazed by his tactics. Just like you were, before he opened his mouth.

"You and Shinkai are in quite the fight to reach the higher ranks of the WRC. Did you solve the misunderstandings from last year to prevent more incidents from happening this time around?"

Naozumi laughed dryly at that, averting his eyes away from the man so overzealous for drama. When his eyes fell back on him, it wasn't with the same playful gaze reserved for toying around with people, but with raw hunger to rip him to shreds until every other word he was dying to write was out and cut to tiny little pieces on the floor.

Even you shuddered at the intensity of that look. You thanked the heavens it wasn't directed at you. If you were in Misano's shoes, you would shove those words back down your throat and run to puke them out somewhere they would be more well received, like the trash can outside, right around the door. That might do everyone in here a favor.

Naozumi finally let go of your leg, turning around in his seat to face the press with more interest. You breathed a small sigh of relief at the loss of contact. But a small part of you mourned the reassurance it provided for a short while, letting the nerves about your future race back up your spine again. At least they were dimmer now, since you put your focus on the charade of power to your left.

"If by misunderstanding you mean forced damage to my car," paused Naozumi with an icy grin matching the gaze that never once faltered from Misano, "then no, we didn't solve anything."

He delivered that affirmation so smoothly that even you leaned over the table to get a better look at him. Contrary to the calmness in his voice, there was a furious annoyance taking over his features. One far more irritated than the other looks you've seen him sport in the past three days.

"You can't solve misunderstandings with hardheaded people," piped in Akira, matching the same sweet venom in Naozumi's voice.

Naozumi could only smirk coldly, dropping his gaze to his team racing suit before he aimed it at Akira.

"That's where you're wrong," corrected Naozumi. "You can't solve misunderstandings with irresponsible people that can't admit to their faults."

It was Akira's turn to be vexed, staring down the man on his right. Those eyes, softer than melted chocolate, turned into the most violent tempest catching speed by the second. Though he wasn't necessarily asked a question, he was just as involved in the one served to Naozumi, so he turned to Misano with a comment.

"I think what Naozumi means by that is that some things are better left in the past. Or swept under the rug for the sake of it."

Point, aim and shoot.

"Let's leave the talking to the track," grinned Akira, patting Naozumi's shoulder in feign respect.

Naozumi broke into a toothy smile, tongue coming out to swipe over his teeth in disbelief. That smile grew and grew until it matched Akira's, just like a Cheshire cat. Then he leant over to him, whispering something in his ear. A threat you just so happened to hear.

"Stay the fuck away from my track. And don't fool yourself that thing was accidental to free your conscience" he mumbled.

The cameras flashed to immortalize the moment, making sure to get all sides of the burning declaration of war. They held each other's gaze with impending rage, pumping hard enough to blow out big dark fumes like messenger torches.

Keeping levelheaded and avoiding conflicts of interest was a rule their agents were probably negotiating with them, not even close to being able to enforce it.

From the looks of it, there was way more tension between the two than they let on with those loaded glances passed from one end of the paddock to the other in between stages. They had history that was better left unraveled for the sake of the rest of the season.

I take it back. The car reveal was a baby next to this shit show.

After that, the rest of the conference went by uneventfully. Surprisingly. The stifling tension however, was still palpable in the air. It was crazy how just one question from Misano turned the mood salty real fast. He hasn't asked anything else ever since, sitting merrily in the audience with a smug smirk, utterly pleased at causing an uproar.

The rest of the reporters went for decent questions as the drivers geared up for mayhem on track. As soon as the organisers let you, you dashed outside, welcoming the fresh breath of air and freedom away from that purgatory room.

Got nine more of those to endure.

"Not bad for your first press conference, rookie."

Was that supposed to be an encouraging pat on the back? If anything it sounded haughty and kind of condescending.

Does it hurt him to shed off some of that superior complex thing he has going on?

Upon remembering his game back in the conference room, you whirled around to him instantly, backing him in a corner so no one could hear your murderous intentions. The flames inside of you were leaping high and violent again. But that must have been the Naozumi effect at this point - setting you on fire then walking away only to come back and kindle you again whenever he saw fit.

"Don't ever touch me again or I will rip your hands and shove them down your cars' exhaust. Understood?"

"It was a good distraction though, wasn't it?" he smirked, pinning you with that knowing look of his that made you want to spit fire like a dragon.

"It was so fucking unnecessary-" you stopped, the rest of your words dying in your throat. "It was so -," you growled. "You're so -"

You gave up on speaking. There was no point in explaining why punching him was the right thing to do because the more you looked at it you realized he was right. That playful stroke was a good distraction from going berserk with all those demons patiently waiting to pick you apart like flies that dove into shit on the side of the road. Even if it was for a while, he managed to calm down your stormy temper. It was a miracle for anyone to even do that in the first place.

He leaned down to you, stopping just a few inches off your face. His eyes drifted down to your lips for a brief second before securing your gaze again with that dark look of his that has probably disarmed more girls than you could count on all your existent fingers, hands and toes included.

"That's what I thought," he said as teasingly soft as a brush on canvas.

Before you could say anything else he walked off, leaving you dumbfounded with your tongue poking your cheek, and kind of questioning your sanity.

He's so goddamn infuriating.

Back in your pen, you took off the suit, changing back in the team kit and made a beeline for the car. There was no time to waste. The crew gathered around you in a heartbeat, waiting for your directions.

The skilled gazes laid on you, full of years of garage work, made you very aware of the fact that they expected full professionalism from you.

God, I hope this works.

"Okay so, we need to change the oil filter," you started. "The oil inside is contaminated and from the looks of it, it's not usable anymore. The filter itself appears to have blown a gasket, so that too needs replacing," you finished in one breath.

"But our oil person isn't here today," Akio, one of the mechanics, pointed out.

"Mister Hinode isn't," you sighed, hoping the old man was enjoying himself for taking the day off today of all days. "But I am. I watched him change enough oil filters back at the garage to know what I have to do."

"Very well. Lead the way," he replied with a nod, fully placing his trust in your hands.

Though slightly unsure, the rest of the team followed. Looking back at Tanaka, you saw him nod too, letting you know he had your back. At the silent show of support, you pushed the nerves away and got to work in your full element.

"What I need from you is a car lift, a drain pan, the new oil filter, and four or five liters of motor oil," you told the team. "Draining it will take about an hour, more or less, and replacing it a little less in theory. We have less than four hours until stage two so we can't afford to lose any time if we want to get something out of today."

"You heard the girl," clapped Tanaka, moving to get all hands on deck. "Let's move."

You turned to Sentaro and the electrical engineer.

"I need you guys to run the electrical checks again, now and after I finish changing the filter, in case anything else goes off and needs fixing so we're on top of it ASAP."

"Got it. Also, regarding the oil pressure, it was on high levels last night when we brought it back from the event, but we thought it was from being out on track for so long," he said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it. It can happen out of nowhere too, especially considering the roads I drove it down yesterday. But do ping Mr. Hinode in case there's something we're missing."

"Thanks, Raiko. You're a lifesaver," he said, walking back to his laptop.

Eh, I'm a what now? you blinked trying to take that compliment in. Shaking yourself out of it, you rolled up your sleeves to your elbows and worked to lift the car at an angle you could fit under it.

Pulling over a creeper, you leaned back and got under, looking for the oil plug under the dirty chassis. Finding it right away, just a little off the underside of the front bumper, you unscrewed it with a wrench. Barely twisted open, the splotchy black goo started spilling everywhere, much more liquid and disgusting than you thought it would be. What was on the dipstick was nothing compared to what spilled out on the sides of the plug. It smelled horrible, like murky grass and three days old mud had a biochemical hazard lovechild. And there was about four liters of that to drain out.

The more you unscrewed the plug, the more it splattered everywhere, some of it flying in your hair. Jerking away so it wouldn't land in your eyes, you turned the plug tugging it off completely. The oil flow doubled right away and you realized you should've had the drain pan under it before you unscrewed it.

"Fucks sake," you grunted, holding out a hand to whoever was close by. "Loosen the oil cap on the top and hand me the drain pan."

A hand pushed the drain pan into your own and you moved fast to shove it under the oil drain, to avoid more of it staining the asphalt.

You slid out from under the hood to breathe in some fresh air, meeting with Kate and Tanaka's faces, looking at you with matching disgusted looks as they took in your very contaminated appearance.

"Your face..." started Kate, pointing at your face as she pinched her nose.

"All natural," you shot back. "You should try it sometimes."

Tanaka howled a laugh as he pulled you up from the ground, handing you a few clean cloths. You wiped your hair as best as you could, frowning at the dirt coming out of it. That will take a lot of showers to take out.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait. And make other checks on the car to make sure nothing else is broken."

Come on, pick up.

Pacing the dusty ground above the stands, you listened as the line rang and rang, each dial tone pumping the nerves back in your system. You were starting to regret this until he finally picked up on the seventh ring.

"I'm in a meeting right now," filtered your father's shushed voice through the phone.

Of course he's in a meeting. That's why he left early this morning. In the chaos with the car and the press, you forgot all about that. Now the scope of the call didn't even really seem that important anymore, preoccupied with the fact that you interrupted something that probably was.

"Raiko? Are you there?"

A car whizzed past on track, pulling roars of cheers from the crowd, prompting you to find a quieter corner.

Was there even a point in asking that?

Fuck it. Just get it over with.

"Does...," you started, but the rest of the words got lost somewhere in the mess in your head. You took a deep breath and tried again, this time sounding a bit more composed. "Does my contract have an expiration date?"

He could tell something was off. You could be as composed as you wanted, but your father could always pick up on the uncertainty laced in your voice.

You heard shuffling, rushed goodbyes and a door closing shut, before a chair creaked. His voice came through more clearly now.

"Of course not. I told you you're welcome to drive for Suruki Racing until you no longer wish to."

Those were the same words you said out loud to the reporter just last night, so sure of yourself and knowing what you wanted that it would be impossible for anyone to second guess it or even challenge your claim to the seat in the team. Until smug-face opened his mouth to comment on it in the press conference today.

"Is everything alright, Rai? I know I left in a rush but if there's anything you need, please let me know."

"Everything's alright," you reassured him, trying to sound more on top of the situation than you felt. "Sorry for disturbing the meeting."

"Eh, don't worry about it. I could use a break," he chuckled, making you chuckle too.

It was so good to finally talk to him like that. Like you were father and daughter for once in a while, before being team principal and driver.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" he asked again, willing to listen to any concerns you had, big or small.

"Yeah," you sighed softly. "It is now. Thanks dad."

He could tell there was more to it than you were telling him, like the issues with the car and missing the first stage, but you didn't push it. Tanaka would catch him up on it later anyways. There was no use in railing him up on a plane right now.

"Always, firebolt. Good luck out there."

That always was your I love you. He wasn't one to be a softie for cheesy stuff, like blurting out those three words, but that always never failed to reassure you that you'll get through anything and come out on the bright side. No matter what.

"Good luck to you too," you piped up, ending the call.

Looking ahead, you caught sight of the Spica Racing blue hues right on time, approaching a rocky corner. Naozumi took it so effortlessly before diving into the last drift portion taking it wide, closer to the barrier, lifting the dust and gravel off the ground to fly off in the stands like a gust of sand.

You backed away coughing a little, shaking your head with a smile at the gesture that was one hundred percent intentional.

At least someone's having fun today.

You got back to the pen at the same time Naozumi pulled up. He got out of the car much more pleased with his run than he has these past few days. He didn't even yell at his engineers this time. Peace and quiet ruled the Sigma Racing pen surprisingly.

Unfortunately for your short lived peace of mind, he caught sight of you and turned your way with a smile as wide as his pride must be flowing in from head to booted feet for completing a stage this nice. If only you had the chance to go out on the road too.

The closer he got to you, he eyed you from head to toe, taking you in all your muddy glory, scrunching his nose at the smell that was still glued to you like you sprayed on intense dirt road cologne. The nasty kind that barely washes out of your clothes after rolling in it. Your clothes also reeked of motor oil. If someone had a flint they might as well light you on fire if you just breathed in their direction.

"What happened to you?" he frowned. "Did you DNF into a bush of skunks or something?"

"Haha, really funny," you deadpanned. "I didn't even start the race for that matter."

Throwing a look at the scoreboard in your pen since it was closest, he scoured all the names of the drivers until his eyes landed on yours, staring back at him with a DNS in bold letters, right at the bottom of the grid. Shameful and defeated wouldn't even begin to explain your sour mood.

"What? How did you even manage that?"

Was he actually concerned or was he just planning to fumble the bag for more insults based on your answer? Closing in on the playful glint in his eyes, it was probably the latter and you were not in the mood for it. At all.

"Engine issues," you sighed, slumping in defeat.

It's been half an hour and you were still waiting for the oil to finish draining before you could actually fix anything. Time was ticking away and so were your hopes of somehow participating in the second stage.

"You missed a spot," he said, gesturing to your face.

Bringing your hands up, you wiped them everywhere coming up entirely clean. Is he seeing things?

He shook his head before coming closer, wiping his thumb over the tip of your nose. Your heart thrummed in your ears, drowning everything else around you but his touch and how close he was. Feeling the callused pads of his fingers on your skin, without all those fibrous layers of the suit between you, felt like being touched by millions of sparks of electricity at the same time. Heat surged on your cheeks quicker than you could hide it.

Him being him, he just had to ruin the moment. Not that there was one there.

Instead of getting the splotch of mud away, he smudged it all across your cheeks with a grin.

"There. Much better," he concluded, stepping back from you, proud of his outstanding work of art.

That only provoked you, flipping the switch on your rage. You kept it under wraps long enough and at this point, he was just asking for it. Not your fault his decency sensors must have been broken since he was born and folded in a blanket.

"I told you not to touch me ever again," you rasped, swatting his hand away a bit too violently.

"Hmm, I don't recall," he hummed, wiping his thumb on his suit to get rid of the dirt splotch he scooped from your nose. "It was probably an empty threat."

An empty threat? Hah. He's really starting to piss me the fuck off.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Because he had many of them and most of his recent issues included disturbing your peace on an undetermined period.

"I don't really have a problem, rookie," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Stop calling me that," you seethed. "I'm not a rookie," you breathed out with eyes closed to try and calm the fuse inside of you before it blew. Though you didn't mind if it blew in front of Naozumi's face and set him on fire a little.

"Oh, but you are." He took a step closer to you, broad shoulders branching out to appear more intimidating. "Need I remind you that you stepped foot in the car not even two days ago? A rookie stays a rookie until they prove themselves worthy of the road."

"You think you're the shit, don't you?"

"And you are?" he chuckled darkly. "You don't have the guts for it. Why don't you go back to being daddy's little spoiled princess, driving plastic cars, since it's very obvious you can't drive a real one?"

Naozumi had a talent at making sure his words drove straight to their recipient, cutting deeper than intended, at times with a purpose more painful than the edge of a knife could do damage.

But words were empty to you. You trained yourself not to believe the little white lies and rumors people tried to feed you to stay as far away from letting it affect you as possible. This was just another one of those confrontations meant to throw you off and undo the steps you've already done on the climb towards the top.

Hard pass on downgrading. But nice try.

"At least I'm not the idiot that wrecked the car in the easiest turn in the whole region just yesterday, driving it full speed with an engine failure only to blame it on my team. It takes real skill to pull that off."

His jaw ticked with fresh blood. You definitely ticked a nerve with that. If you're throwing knives at each other, might as well throw them deep just for the funk of it.

"At least I didn't get a DNF and a DNS first time on the job. Your father may have put that winning image in your head to motivate you, but if you think it will be that easy, you're wrong. You will always be a rookie and there's nothing you can do to help it."

If that was supposed to make it hurt more, boohoo, it missed it's mark. Kinda late to the pity party. Might invite you next time.

"Oh, you're one to talk," you scoffed incredulously. "You're nothing without your team and you can't even see that. What's gonna happen when they all walk out and leave you stranded to work on the car all by yourself? Will you magically pay your way out of it by hiring other people?"

"That's none of your business," he hissed.

"Real drivers help their team," you growled.

You were overtaken by a sense of kinship for your team stronger than anything the world could say or throw at you. He probably knew nothing about what it means to make constant sacrifices for something you love body and soul. But he sure had the nerve to come and preach it to you like a total hypocrite since the rules of normal society apparently don't apply to him but they do to everyone else.

"You don't get to tell me how to be a driver," he shot back, tone becoming more menacing with every word.

"And you don't get to trample all over my hard work. My team's hard work. Don't talk to me about privilege when you're living off it just fine."

You didn't even notice you closed the distance to him, getting right up in his face, seeping into his space once more, this time with a different kind of savagery - one that felt a lot like unleashing chaos. You were a brief remark away from spearing your claws out for some physical atoning.

"You don't know shit," he growled, towering over you. "So I suggest you to back the fuck off."

"Or what?," you gritted back.

The corner of his lip turned up with a dark wicked smirk, a warning pledge of fast approaching colossal disaster, just like the words rumbling out of his throat, low and deep like thunder.

"I'll make sure the rest of your time here," he paused, raven eyes boring into yours with intensity before he whispered the last words a mere breath away from your lips, "is a living hell."

A living hell?

I'm already living hell, pretty boy.

You simply chuckled at that. He had no idea that you laughed in the face of danger. He must have thought you were crazy for it. It took more than a threat to steer your wheels in that direction. The direction of sin.

His head tilted in slight confusion at your reaction, though his eyes never left their furious fire behind. You quipped a brow, silently accepting his challenge, wondering just how far he could go to prove a point and preserve his pride in the face of a mere rookie.

"I'd like to see you try."

"You're gonna regret this."

This man loved to make enemies with everyone. But he picked the wrong person to start the fight with. Unfortunately for him and his loud wrathful thunder, vengeful lightning always strikes twice. Always.

"We'll see about that."

Not another word came out of his mouth. But you knew better than to accept his silence as a retreat. His mouth curved, a devilish grin over it, as if he already started devising a wicked little plan in his head to pull the earth from under your feet when you weren't looking.

Regarding you with one more look full of hatred, he pulled back, walking off to his pen.

Little did he know, he just met his match.

Regrets... you had many for yourself. But you were sure as hell that him of all people was the last one to add to them.

Never in a million years would you let that happen.

I wouldn't wish hell upon anyone. Especially mine. But if I had the choice to curse one person in the whole wide world right now...

I would curse him in a heartbeat.

You were sitting outside the pen, glaring at Naozumi's back, until Tanaka called out to you.

"Raiko. The oil has drained out.," he said, stopping in his tracks. "What are you doing out here?"

Googling ways to overcome your enemies with the power of forced distance.

"Nothing," you scoffed, heading back inside.

Time to get dirtier than my soul.

Taking your place back under the car, you worked on changing the oil filter with a new one. Screwing off the old filter entirely by hand, the leftover oil spilled everywhere again. At least there wasn't that much left in the basin to really stain anything.

It would've been nice not to have to do this with your bare hands, but you've been Mr. Hinode's human flashlight enough to know that the filter can only be tightened by a bare hand to make sure it's in the right spot and that none of it can leak out.

"Could you hand me a filter wrench?"

"Here," popped in Akio's head, who now became your human flashlight.

"Thanks."

A little shimmying and the old broken filter finally popped out with the rest of the oil leaking out down your arms. The last drop fell on your forehead. A good luck omen? We shall see.

Passing it to Akio, you motioned to him to shine some light on the broken filter. You noticed the head gasket was indeed damaged.

"Is the new filter ready and rubbed with oil yet?"

"Yep. Good to go?"

"Yeah."

Checking the engine block with the flash light one more time to make sure there weren't any other bits or parts stuck inside, you tried putting the new filter in. You struggled to make it do inside the engine block, moving down a little farther under the car. Not a fun thrill to experience with a ton hanging above you lifted by a tool weighing less.

Please don't crush me, hun. I drive you but I can assure you that you don't want to drive me.

Spinning the part to the right, you finally got it in, puffing out a breath. You screwed it on until you felt it stop turning. You gave it another spin with your hand before you tightened it with a wrench the rest of the way.

"We should be good to go now. Pour the motor oil in."

One of the mechanics poured the oil in on top. You waited to see if any of it would still leak out only to see none.

The new oil filter was successfully attached.

Well fuck me, I just did that.

Rolling out from under the car, you breathed out a sigh of relief as the team started applauding you and howling your name out of nowhere.

"Raiko! Raiko! Raiko!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

They all laughed at your antics. Tanaka and Sentaro pulled you up as the rest threw their cloths at you to send you to shower. Your team kit was sticking to you like you just took a dip in an oil lake, save for the sweat rolling down your back. That one belonged to you.

"You smell as bad as the car after a day on track and I'm saying that in the nicest way possible," said Akio.

"Haha, really funny," you laughed, throwing some of the cloths back with oil stains. "If I had a hose I would drench you all. Don't tempt me."

Little did you know that someone came around to check out what the ruckus next door was about. He watched you from the sidelines, running around to smear the oil on your hands on whoever landed in your range of attack. Most of them didn't even move, welcoming your attack with defeated smiles. The corner of his lip tilted up in a delighted grin at the scene.

Maybe I underestimated her.

"Everything's got the green light, right?"

"Yes, Raiko," Tanaka reassured you for the hundredth time since you stepped in the car. "All other car checks came out good. Stop stressing."

"I'm not stressing."

Well, you kinda were since you lost a lot of points by retiring from the first stage. You needed a clear head before the race and after today it just wasn't happening. You fixed the car before it was time to race, but if you didn't do right by this one, you could kiss any advancement ahead in the series goodbye.

"You saved us today. Any other driver would've ripped their contract to pieces in front of the team if they had to get anywhere near motor oil."

"I think you're forgetting I'm not just any driver," you smirked, pulling your helmet on. "Let's do this shit."

You went out there and enjoyed it for the first time this weekend. Your run was smoother than anything else today. The corners were mostly wide, mid-range turns, and the car felt great with the new oil change. It would be another 3000 miles before you had to change it again and hopefully, the filter would last longer than that.

Even Tanaka seemed to enjoy himself. He didn't reach for the door handle not even once like he was used to whenever he was in the car with you. You did accelerate faster in some turns watching his hand come up halfway only to stop and retract back.

"6 left 100. Flat out."

One hundred meters left to the widest corner left in the race.

Come to mamma.

The dirt flew up in the air behind you, leaving a trail of dust on each side. You dove closer to the left where the stands were, taking the last corner with a large drift that rose up huge clouds of sand from your rear. You heard the roars of the crowd before the puckers from the slide over the gravel, all getting lost in the rave music booming through the speakers.

This is what racing was about. Leaving it all in the hands of the wheel for two minutes where the world quieted down. Being on a one track mind.

Once every driver went for their run, you sat on the hood with the rest of the team waiting for the final update of the track times. You chewed your lip in thinking, tapping your foot on the floor.

I hope all those sacrifices weren't in vain. We all worked way too hard to fall off the track right now. We need this right now.

The scoreboard loaded to display the first three names and all heads perked forward. No one spoke. Not even the wind dared to rustle a banner.

1st place - Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory

2nd place - Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing

3rd place - Takatoshi Tohira - YM Works

Naozumi's ego was strong today. He just so managed to bag podium after that whole show of arrogance. Fucker. Pushing your annoyance for the man away, you focused back on the board.

Come on, load faster.

4th place - Katsumi Ishibashi - Top Rank

I can kiss top five for Tour de Tokai goodbye. So long world.

5th place - Raiko Suruki - Suruki Racing

What the fuck-

Loud cheers erupted all around you like the national football team just won the World Cup. That was totally impossible but you did it. You placed in the first point rankings. You were in top five! Still far away from the podium, but at least you didn't fall off the scoreboard.

Before you even said anything, the screen updated to display the Drivers Championship standings so far.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing - 61 pts

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 53 pts

3. Neil Emerton - Cusco Racing - 47 pts

4. Takatoshi Tohira - YM Works - 38 pts

5. Fairuz Badawi - Eliot Racing - 31 pts

6. Katsumi Ishibashi - TOP RANK - 28 pts

7. Raiko Suruki - Suruki Racing - 25 pts

"It's not much, but they're good points," said Tanaka, patting you on the back. "Amazing work today, lightning strike."

Turning back to everyone, you called out to them. The team gave you their full undivided attention. Your team. Most of these people saw you grow up from a rowdy teenager into the driver you are today. They were more than your team. They were your extended family. You owed them everything.

"I know dad's not here today, but someone has to do the honorary speech" you clapped your hands together, trying to will some normal words out.

"I wouldn't have been able to get out there without you guys. You're the reason this team works like oiled parts, no pun intended."

Some of them laughed at that. You happened to have your father's humor.

"I know there's no podium celebration for us this time, but I will work even harder to bring it to you soon. For now, please rest up, eat well and stay safe. The Fuji Highland Masters round is nearby so we need to get in the gear for it soon."

"Raiko! Raiko! Raiko!"

"Guys, please stop," you giggled, suddenly flustered at all the attention. "Come on, go home. Before the organizers kick us out."

Grabbing your duffel bag with your things, you went back to the race banner. You pulled out your phone and took a photo of it and a selfie.

Your career officially started. It was a rocky start and the climb up to even get a chance at podium was even rockier. But you were willing to fight for it with your teeth.

Suruki Racing was born again this weekend and you were planning to keep it alive for longer than it has before.

Turning around, you cast a look at the podium. Naozumi just received his trophy, smashing the champagne bottle to spray the crowd. That million dollar smile was back on his face, wider and brighter than you've seen it. It almost looked real. Among all that lust for fame and money in his blood, he looked like he fit right in with the haze of celebration. Like he was made to be a winner.

On the other side of the podium, Akira lifted his 2nd place trophy too, fully enjoying the squeals from his fans. You didn't know what came over you, but you pulled your phone out to snap a picture of both of them for safekeeping.

Spotting you on the side about to leave, Akira took off in your direction. His hand tugged on your arm to spin you around.

"Hey!"

"Hey, you," you smiled. "Second place, huh?"

He looked down at the trophy with a small smile, not really reaching his eyes like usual.

"Yeah. Not my best drive but it's alright."

"Could say the same."

"Are you coming to the party?"

"The famed afterparty on Naozumi's yacht?" You looked back at the podium, watching him throw the champagne bottle down his throat, spilling everywhere on his suit in the process. "No, thanks. I'll pass."

"He wants everyone on the grid there. Though I would much rather not go, my agent said it's good publicity. To tame the media after that stunt today or something like that. So, come with me."

After declaring each other mortal enemies, you wanted nothing to do with Naozumi at all. Not even being in his range of view. Going to a party, on his yacht, in the middle of a body of water was the last thing you needed.

"I'll think about it."

A staff member came to pull him away for a quick press interview. He seemed adamant to leave but you waved him off. You were in need of a shower before the mud became one with your skin.

"I have to go," he pressed his lips together in a smile, dimples popping on the sides. "See you back in Tokyo?"

"Sure."

Would going to that party be so bad? I could definitely use some alcohol and if it's free, why the hell not? He must have expensive alcohol on board. I can let my pride go for a free drink.

There was no lie that Tokyo's skyline looked so magical at night, especially on a yacht ride down the central river. Skyscrapers stretched out into the sky, multicolored lights blinking back at you with sparkles. The rich really had this superb view every night and they barely took a ride here if it wasn't for business purposes.

At least yours truly knows how to pick a party location.

Speaking of the man of the hour, you counted about eight girls around him from your secluded spot at the bar. You could hear their high-pitched voices all the way there, asking him all kinds of questions about himself and the car. He just hummed in response to all of them, focusing his attention elsewhere.

If today wasn't so shit and he didn't literally declare war to you, you might have just been a tad bit happy for him. The most you mustered was a mumbled congratulations when you boarded the ship. He just passed you a grin and left it at that.

He doesn't deserve my cheerfulness. He gets it from the world enough as it is. Plus the fact that he invited everyone on his yacht just in spite.

None of the drinks at the bar were for free and most were too expensive for your pocket, so you had to drink a mocktail. Even his hospitability was in mocking.

More girls scooched closer to get a piece of him, tanned arms and bare legs brushing up against him from all sides. He didn't even seem to be bothered in the slightest that his space was being taken up. But he did mind when it was you doing it.

"Then let's make a toast again!"

"Cheers!"

"Congratulations on being the champion!"

The girls cheered and clinked glasses, sipping on the expensive champagne. He joined on the clinking too, though he didn't drink with them, keeping his glass aside.

His eyes drifted from the champagne glass in his hand to you. The small smile on his face turned into a smirk of provocation. A smirk that went right to the epicenter of your rage. He came to kindle that fire again.

Before you knew it, you made a beeline through the crowd stopping right in front of his table. The girls shot you disapproving looks, sizing you up and down in every way they wanted. Picking apart your messy, tousled hair. Your tomboy outfit. Some even mumbled something about your nails not being in fashion. You shot them a look and they stopped looking at you altogether.

Naozumi just regarded you with a knowing look, averting his eyes to the water surrounding the boat in dismissal. You just stood there with your arms crossed, waiting for him to stop his passive ignorance.

"Got something to say to me, rookie?"

Would he explode if he just called me by my name?

"I do actually."

"Then," he extended a hand around one of the girls getting more comfortable with her. She snuggled into his body, giddiness taking over her for getting so close to him. You could feel the jealousy oozing off the other girls, waiting for their turn. "Let's hear it."

He really does have a thing for public humiliation.

Akira stepped beside you, lightly pulling at the sleeve of your leather jacket to get you away from trouble. Little did he know you loved trouble more than anything in the world. Especially when it involved a certain know-it-all with an annoyingly handsome face.

"Rai, let's go," he muttered, aware that some people turned around to watch the scene. "You're better than him. Don't give him the satisfaction."

"I wasn't talking to you, Shinkai," spat Naozumi, not once lifting his eyes away from you. Not even when the girl at his side caressed the side of his neck with obvious want. "Go lick the boots of your own team principal."

"Talk, rookie. Or did the cat get your tongue?"

You want war on and off track, Naozumi?

You have it.

The words were out of your mouth in a heartbeat, not one thought behind them. Nothing but the sole need to see how he would react to being challenged publicly.

"Let's settle it on the road. You and me. Our cars back at the docks."

An illegal race on the streets of Tokyo. Might as well be career suicide for some. But you had way too hanging by a thread, while he only had his pride. Taking that away would be like shoving him off his throne and sitting on it like it was yours.

Best case scenario, you win and leave him with a shattered ego.

Worst case scenario, you lose or end your career.

The only good thing was that the odds were in no one's favour out there on the road. It took skill to win an illegal race in a city that was built up on street racing of the highest stakes.

"What does the winner get?"

"Always so set on winning, aren't you? Would losing something dim your small manly pride?"

His tongue pushed his cheek in the same annoyed manner it would at his brother reprimanding him for being incapable of listening to simple directions.

"That's between you and me," you added, settling on making this as private as you could.

The sudden realization was written all over his face. He knew what you were referring to since you threw his very own words back at him.

"A rookie stays a rookie until they prove themselves worthy of the road."

Ripples of gasps echoed around you, people already murmuring things about you. Until the rumors started being directed at Naozumi and his ability to drive. It was time for him to prove himself worthy of the crowd as well.

Naozumi sat back swirling the champagne in his glass until the liquid was left without bubbles. He seemed to give it a good thought.

There was that curiosity dancing in his eyes again. The same rush of novelty measuring up on your very own. He wanted to know where you would take this if he gave you the chance.

"Fine by me," he said, taking you up on your offer.

Shaking off the female arms circled around him, he got up and threw back that glass of champagne emptying it in one go, before calling out to the captain to turn the boat around. He walked to you, stopping mere steps away from you.

"Where?"

"The hill over there down to the docks. No time cuts, no tricks."

"You shouldn't drive after drinking," you remarked.

He smirked, taking one more step towards you. "Are you worried about me, princess?"

"No," you said, taking one step in his direction.

One more step from each of you and you were chest to chest, facing off like it was a real battle for the very pride of driving. People made a circle around you, staying away from the tension already wafting through the air.

He bent down to your ear. "To settle your worries, it was non-alcoholic champagne. But don't let them know. I keep my alcohol for the big wins."

He really was the biggest asshole on the planet.

The two of you were the first to get off the boat and find your cars, driving them up the top of the hill with some of the crowd from the yacht following right behind. It would be a drive down through traffic and tight corners but it looked much more doable than the roads you've driven through today.

You heard his car purring before he pulled up next to you turning in your seat to gawk at it - a midnight blue R8, a beast of a car compared to yours.

It was an older model, so overpacked with modifications it made your head spin. Nothing on that car looked like it belonged on it and you had a hunch that long hood curving over the engine held a lot more mysteries than the outside body of the car.

He rolled down his window, leaning a hand over it to check yours out too. He scanned it back to front and from the twinge in his lips, he appeared impressed by your weapon of choice. Who wouldn't gape at it when yours was a collection car worth more than three of his yachts together.

"Veilside RX-7. Not bad for a rookie."

He sounded genuinely respectful.

"Thanks."

"I'll give you a five seconds head start," he added.

"I think you could use them a lot more than me," you shot back.

He revved his V8 engine, roaring it to life like a lion looking to claim his rightful throne. You did the same, revving your V6 longer to prepare it for the sprint race. Your engine missed two cylinders and some horsepower but yours had way better grip on the road. Though small compared to his speed intake, you had a shot at winning this.

He was big and wide, a monster under the hood but one that got swallowed on serpentine roads like the one that awaited you. It was a show car. It wasn't made for racing. That and your car was smaller and bunchier, meaning you were able to whizz through corners much faster if needed.

He can't beat me at what I know best.

I was born with the drift in my veins.

And illegal street racing?

Not my first rodeo, pretty boy.

Someone walked to the front stopping between your cars. It was the blonde woman from last night. Shorts that were shorter than your lifespan climbed up her buttocks, joined by a tank top that hugged her boobs better than any of your bras could. A checkered flag hang in her hand, getting rustled by the cool night breeze.

"Not too late to back out," he piped up.

"See you at the finish line. That is if you can keep up," you said, rolling up your window to avoid more of his attitude from seeping inside your car.

You cast a look down to your right at the docks then turned back around to the road.

On second thoughts, Tokyo's skyline looks way better from up here.

The blonde rolled her hand with the flag calling out a count and holding up her fingers. The crowd cheered behind you, already getting gassed by the fumes burning out through the exhausts.

"Three."

It's not about how fast you go.

You revved the engine loud, feeling the car shake with the raw horsepower under the hood.

"Two."

It's about how long you go fast.

Throwing a look at Naozumi, you caught him looking right back at you, that shit-eating grin back on his face.

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

The flag barely hit the floor when you pressed the gas like a madman. His extra horsepower propelled him a few meters ahead of you. You kept close on his tail, letting him take the tight corners before you so he felt it on his own skin that this wasn't the type of road to get cocky on. Not with a million dollar car like his.

Passing the first two corners, he moved to the middle of the road to cover more ground. He must have realized his car takes way too much space to even drift. And this was a drifting road.

The next corner gave him an opening to shift gears and drift. You went on the outside, trying to overtake him but he was way too wide to get past. You needed a wider corner.

Moving around a rocky hillside, you noticed the road barriers curving down into a wider path, less narrow with more flow.

Naozumi slowed down, reducing his drift angle in the process, rear jerking in a light drift. That's my cue. You pulled the hand brake, pressed down the clutch then quickly stabbed the gas, turning the steering to the left. Accelerating, you flew past him, sliding in front of his car over the middle of the road, slick and smooth like butter on a hot frying pan.

The next turn was just as wide. He accelerated trying to get past you and he almost did if you didn't know him any better. You took the drift faster than him, with the risk of letting the car skid off the road. The tyres screeched loudly at the excess of pressure. Thinking fast, you dropped in the clutch moving down in second gear, finding the sweet spot where the rotations aligned and swerved left into another perfect drift. The roaring growl of the engine was music to your ears.

This is how you drive a car, baby.

A few more turns and you skidded out into intense night traffic. The move from rough to slick asphalt sent your rear wide in the middle of an intersection, passing a red light and being honked at from all sides of the intersection. Naozumi followed right behind you, mere meters away from smashing into your tail lights if you slowed down in the slightest.

You entered a tunnel, whizzing past city cars as fast as you could, overtaking them in fast twisting zig zags. Going back down the hill of the main road, he slid in beside you, pushing the car to its limits to close the gap to you. You didn't let off either, dropping down another gear to rev the engine and push past him.

The docks were just a few blocks away. So close.

Police sirens howled loudly in the distance. One look in the rearview mirror and sure enough the red and blue lights shone bright behind you, heading for you and Naozumi.

Three more police cars pulled up two blocks down, trying to block the street and the two of you from passing through. You shot him a quick look he shared with you, fully aware that this was going to get messy. He threw his head to the blocks on the side, wanting to take the longer route and go around. You laughed at that, turning back ahead.

Go hide, Naozumi. I like to face things head on. You should try it sometimes.

Pressing the gas pedal to increase the speed, you slid in front of him and went through fast. The hands on your speedometer went past 120 kmph. If the officers didn't want to get crushed, they had to pull away. But they didn't. Not that you wanted them to.

You cut the gas, tapped the clutch and steered left really tight, drifting down the lane of the street that was left unguarded. You held on tight to the wheel to stay in control of the car as the force pushed you into the door. Your tyres skidded with a screech at the amount of power, but you drifted into that lane and got the car back around straight, leaving the law enforcement behind you.

Two hundred meters in, you repeated the same maneuver this time to the right and steering wide, diving into another turn down the street, completely losing them. The farther away you got, the less you could hear the sirens. They didn't follow.

One thing about police here: they didn't give a fuck if they didn't stop you on the first try. With the amount of street races around Tokyo at night, they gave up on speeding tickets too. If you can do better than one-eighty they can't catch you. They just liked showing up for some ruckus for people to know they were worth their taxes.

Naozumi slowed down behind you, unable to understand how you got away. He followed your drift on the stretch, miscalculating how wide and low he was as his wheels got up on the sidewalk, scraping his front bumper in the process.

Circling around the last blocks with him in tow, he raced up to you, catching speed until he reached you again.

Now it was finally head to head.

Eight hundred meters stood between his dignity and your career getting knocked off and thrown into the river. None of you backed off, increasing the speed to inhumane limits. Not even the rally cars went this fast. The tyres gripped the asphalt hard, engine thundering under the hood, wheel quivering in your hold the faster you drove.

Five hundred meters.

On your left, his R8 got closer, trying to take away from your ascent. A lower portion going under a bridge came up ahead with a tight corner between the pillars. You veered under it, drifting with his car at the same time. He took the inside pushing you off into the rocky sidewalk as payback for his scratched bumper. Your rear wheel caught onto it, swaying the car off the road. The tremors shook your seat the more you drove over the rocks and you managed to get off it just before you smashed into the pillar, sliding back on the road.

Motherfucker.

You pushed the car even faster to catch up to him. You played fair and square and he was pulling tricks. Fairplay was in the trash at this point when it comes to him. What was worse was that you expected more, but maybe that was a mistake.

Three hundred meters.

The size of a football stadium stood between you and the finish line. The docks were now in view, tall and shabby warehouses littered on the sides of the road. Time for Plan B.

Just because I don't have one between my legs doesn't mean I can't act like a dick too.

You let go of the throttle, slowing down to fall behind him and tailed him, sticking to his end like a leech. He liked to play dirty. At least he could have a taste of his own medicine.

He tried to shake you off, going in chicanes and slowing down in the process. He was growing impatient and it showed because you weren't letting off his tail not in even a little, keeping close to his end. If you had more horsepower you could've kissed his back bumper for shits and giggles.

He tried his hardest to lose you, turns getting Once he steered right really wide, you took the opening and accelerated, speeding through ahead and leaving him behind. You turned to wave at him with a smile as you passed by, bolting through to the end.

You whizzed past the redhead waving the checkered flag, getting the crowd yelling as you drifted around them, lifting some of the dust up in the air as you did some victorious doughnuts. Naozumi pulled up behind you and you circled him a few times before you stopped in front of him.

That dark look in his eyes was full of hatred just a few hours ago. Now, it turned furious with rage, pride absolutely shattered. He took a gamble on your inexperience and he lost the game he started so confident in his own powers.

Everyone rushed to your car to cheer on you. You got out shocked at the crowd pooling in. Akira bolted through the endless mob of people, reaching you and bringing you in a bone-crushing hug you couldn't help but melt in.

"That was batshit crazy! We could see everything from down here."

"I know," your voice came out muffled from being tucked in his shoulder. "I can't believe I did that."

"Well," he pulled apart to hold onto your shoulders, "believe it 'cause you absolutely just did that."

The crowd started chanting your name and you couldn't help the giddiness overtaking your senses. Some of those people were either drivers or really famous and they were calling out your name with excitement.

You might have fallen off the track today but you won the crowd tonight. This was yours to enjoy fully and no one could take it away from you. You earned it. You proved that you belonged on the road.

Naozumi finally cut the engine off. He slumped back in his seat for a moment before he got out to inspect the damage on the front of his car. You walked over to him to see him threading his fingers over the scratched paint stretching over to a dent, covering a good part of the corner in front of the right wheel.

"That looks nasty," you said.

He shot you a look filled with hatred. That graze looked worse than nasty could describe and from how he grinded his teeth in annoyance, it looked like it was entirely your fault in his head.

Not one word was uttered between him getting back in his car and speeding away, leaving his victory celebration for you to enjoy.

I think I scratched his ego too.

Akira slid in beside you, eyes trained on the back of his car, watching it drift away until you could no longer see it.

"Is it wrong that I feel bad for him?"

"Nah, you earned this. He's just complicated." Then he paused, rotating to you. "Frankly, I don't think anyone threw him off his high horse this hard before. Not even me," he said with a grin, happy at Naozumi's demise.

Maybe he was right. Naozumi was a really complicated person. But the more you faced each other on and off track, the more you got to know more about him. And the more your hands inched closer to unravel that puzzle on the shelf with his name on it.

One thing was for sure.

After today's events, that plastic foil on his puzzle box was entirely gone. And one of your dying curiosities was satisfied tonight.

You now knew what made Naozumi tick.

And it wasn't losing.

🏎️Glossary of terms and other useful information 🏎️

The Points - Points in rally get awarded on a top 10 places basis. Depending on the placement at the end of the final stage, the score one gets differs. First place can get as high as 25 points, while tenth place gets only one point. *The last stage is called the Power Stage, giving drivers in top five extra points in the overall standings.

Drivers Championship standings - The overall points gathered over the course of all rounds. If you're familiar with F1, it is the equivalent to the Drivers' World Championship standings.

Downshift - One of Raiko's favourite things. Changing gears from an upper one to an inferior one, where the car revs up before it speeds up. Also the sweet spot where the rotations align and the engine roars.

Next

Thank you for reading! Please leave a note, comment or reblog :)

Taglist: @ellisaworld @howimeetyoukit @jonnelpunk @nadlx33333

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: November 21, 2024

Reworked Group #1: Rebel Army

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, fanaticism, drug usage, and SA.

Overview

Multiple terrorist organisations began to form near the start of the 21st century, fueled by rapid technological advancements and escalating violence. For most of the past 20 years, these groups lacked cohesion and were merely a nuisance to the Regular Army, who didn't consider them a significant threat. However, everything changed in 2023 when the Central Park bombing claimed the lives of Field Marshal Donald Morden's wife, daughter, and son, forever altering the course of events.

He was deeply disturbed by this news and learned that the Regular Army had opportunities to prevent the tragedy, but failed to do so. He attributed this failure to systemic issues within the government and military. Following a period of personal struggle and disillusionment, he resigned and eventually disappeared from public view, accompanied by a group of loyal troops who admired him as a leader.

Behind closed doors, Morden began to slowly build up his army, establishing a unique structure for his military organisation and specialised divisions such as the Japanese Infantry and Arabian Infantry. He even acquired ancient technology that had once belonged to his ancestors, the Tuatha Dé Danann. Most of his troops were genetically enhanced using Tuatha Dé Danann technology from the Hadean Eon, which explains why many of them shared a pale complexion and identical physical characteristics—the varying shades of black and blonde hair, and eyes that ranged from deep blue to vibrant cyan. Additionally, Morden consolidated various extremist groups and insurgent forces into his organisation and procured some military technology from the Regular Army through clandestine means.

They prove to be more than a match for the Regular Army, boasting horrifyingly vast and varied resources as well as legions of fanatically loyal infantry equipped with an array of weapons beyond imagination. Their troops are known for their devotion to duty, but have been observed to flee when faced with a particularly dire situation. Although their ranks appear endless and their weapons are brutally effective, some of their arsenal seems somewhat outdated. Furthermore, their combat skills and strategies are arguably less sophisticated than those employed by the Regular Army.

In 2026, the Rebel Army emerged, revealing itself as a military organisation. Led by General Donald Morden, the Rebel Army launched a series of coups aimed at purging the government and military of corruption. However, Morden's ambition was tainted by a megalomaniacal desire for global domination. As a result of this tainted ambition, the main goal of the Rebel Army shifted to overthrowing the Earth Federation and establishing a worldwide authoritarian state under the iron-fisted rule of General Morden. Despite suffering numerous defeats at the hands of elite forces, including the Peregrine Falcons Squad, S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Ikari Warriors, and Division 6, the Rebel Army remained resolute in their goal to expose the corruption within all governments and military forces. They have gone to extreme lengths to achieve their objective, forging alliances with the Amadeus Syndicate, Pipovulaj Army, and Ptolemaic Army.

Insignia

It features a white circle, outlined in scarlet, with a black dragon at its centre. The dragon's wings are outstretched, and it grasps a human skull with its sharp claws.

Uniforms

Cadet Uniform

They wear a champagne-hued sleeveless shirt, paired with a light grey armband featuring the Rebel Army insignia. Over the shirt, they wear a short-sleeved jacket with an olive green, terracotta, and sandy beige camouflage pattern. This jacket has four pockets for storage and two hidden strapped compartments. Their headgear consists of a black beret with a scarlet stripe and a white stripe, and a rolled light grey neckerchief secured with a terracotta woggle. They also wear a dark brown utility belt for carrying essential gear, sandy beige army cargo pants tucked into black combat boots, and olive green knee and elbow pads.

Commanding Officer Uniform

They wear a feldgrau military coat with the Rebel Army insignia emblazoned on the left side, adorned with silvery epaulets and gilded aiguillettes featuring rhomboid-cut reddish amethyst pieces. The coat has dark green cuffs and a rise-and-fall collar, a silver-white eight-button front, and a scalloped rear vent. Their attire is completed with a red-violet necktie, crimson gloves, navy blue trousers, and charcoal grey jackboots. On their head, they wear an Imperial Italic-style helmet, embellished with alternating black and yellow plumes.

Special Forces

They wear dark green gas masks with orange-tinted lenses and an industrial tube connected to a bulky metallic grey air tank with three light blue stripes centred on it, which is strapped to their shoulders. They wear olive green gloves, a coffee brown Kevlar vest, beige combat boots with crimson spiked soles, and a gilded armband bearing the insignia of the Rebel Army. Their uniform consists of saffron-yellow, navy blue, and black camo army cargo pants and field tunic, featuring a luxor gold collar and four front patch pockets with scalloped flaps and pleats.

Their coffee brown belt, adorned with a gilt-brass buckle, features seven black pouches for ammunition and a scarlet waist pack containing basic medical supplies, such as bandages. They carry olive green rucksacks bearing the Rebel Army insignia, containing a wide range of supplies, including tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, canteens filled with water, weapons, additional medical supplies, gas masks, and walkie-talkies.

Bodyguards

They wear bulky, neurally-controlled exosuits with a dark, iridescent nanoceramic coating, providing adaptive protection and augmented mobility. The suit features AI-driven strength amplification, thermal regulation, and self-healing joints for unparalleled flexibility. Their armour is complemented by a holographic visor helmet emblazoned with the Rebel Army's insignia, equipped with a neural interface offering real-time tactical projections and voice command. They don a chromatic gas mask with retinal implants, granting enhanced low-light vision, dual nano-filter mounts, and a voice modulator encircled by fractal-patterned, silver-nanowire spikes.

Their integrated load-bearing backpack stores additional supplies, including ammunition, medical kits, tactical gear (e.g. smoke grenades), rations, and hydration pack. Underneath their exoskeletons, the bodyguards wear a tactical, high-coverage ballistic bodysuit made from a dense, flexible kevlar-latex hybrid material. Their bodysuits are a deep, rich scarlet colour and feature strategically integrated, articulated padding at the shoulders, elbows, and knees.

They’re primarily armed with a Mauser C96 pistol for close-quarters engagement, FG 42 rifle for versatile, high-accuracy firepower, and an MG 42 machine gun with bipod foregrip for sustained, heavy suppressive fire. The Mauser C96 can be equipped with an extended magazine and silencer attachment, the FG 42 features a telescopic sight and folding stock, and the MG 42 boasts a high-capacity drum magazine and quick-change barrel system.

Land Troops

Troops in woodland areas wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a brown, beige, and olive green camouflage pattern, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. They wear earthy green army cargo pants with two additional pockets on the back and field tunics with a six-button bronze front closure. They also wear an earthy green ballistic helmet, a ruddy brown belt with a bronze buckle, dark green paratrooper boots, and a fern-hued armband bearing the Rebel Army insignia. They wear dark green bandoliers that form an X-shape, holding additional ammunition. They carry moss-green load-bearing backpacks with reinforced webbing and waterproof linings, containing supplies provided by special forces such as emergency shelters and high-calorie rations.

Troops in snowy areas wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a white, frosty grey, and pale blue camouflage pattern, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. They wear snow-drab army cargo pants with two additional pockets on the back and insulated field tunics with a six-button silver front closure. They also wear a snow-drab ballistic helmet, steel grey belt with a silver buckle, and an azure armband bearing the Rebel Army insignia. They wear black paratrooper boots lined with warm polar bear fur and equipped with crampons, which provide traction on icy ground.

They carry arctic white tactical backpacks with black accents and reinforced insulation, containing supplies provided by special forces such as thermal blankets, emergency bivvy sacks, and high-energy rations. They carry spiky riot shields made of blue-grey metal, rimmed with a scarlet stripe and a black stripe. Additionally, they carry a bluish-white canister on their back containing ice mist, which enables them to launch shards and spikes of ice at enemies.

Troops in desert areas wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a sandy beige, terracotta, and light grey camouflage pattern. They wear khaki army cargo pants with two additional pockets on the back and field tunics with a six-button brass front closure. They wear a khaki ballistic helmet, light brown bandanas that cover their necks, crimson-plated tactical goggles, and ivory-hued ponchos adorned with the Rebel Army insignia on the back. They also wear a reddish-grey belt with a brass buckle, tan leather paratrooper boots, and a dusty brown armband bearing the Rebel Army insignia.

They wear three reddish-grey bandoliers with two forming an X-shape across their chest, holding ammunition, and a third one positioned above their belt, holding sticks of dynamite. They carry dune-beige tactical backpacks with built-in hydration bladders and MOLLE attachments, containing supplies provided by special forces such as water purification tablets, desert survival kits, and emergency rations.

Troops who operate as fanatics are required to wear a black sheath or drop leg holster for their combat knife or electrical baton and carry their improvised weapons, including fireworks, rolling bombs, and hammers, in their backpacks. Fanatics are trained to sabotage enemy vehicles and are infamous for their lethal leaping knife attacks.

Troops who operate as grenadiers are required to wear a crimson waist pack and seven black belt pouches, each filled with grenades.

Troops who operate as bazooka wielders are required to carry an anti-tank weapon that closely resembles the American M1 Bazooka, but is emblazoned with the Rebel Army insignia. Some bazooka wielders carry around an energy-blasting bazooka similar to the one used by the Future Bazooka Soldiers from Metal Slug 7/XX. They serve as the backbone of General Morden's ground forces regiment. Bazooka wielders are specialised in tank destruction and sometimes arrive on the battlefield by parachute, typically laying down fire on any enemy soldiers on the ground.

Troops who operate as shielded soldiers are required to carry simple riot shields made of grey metal and wield a machete alongside a Desert Eagle-designed pistol. They slash at enemies with their machete when they get too close or shoot them with their pistol when they're out of machete range. They serve as a line of defence to help protect the main body of the army from enemy fire.

Troops who operate as vehicle drivers are required to carry a rocket launcher capable of firing homing missiles. Once the vehicle they were operating has been taken down, they fire one or two shots before fleeing.

Troops who operate as minelayers are required to wear a gilded or silvery drop leg holster for their combat knife and carry mines in their backpacks. Once a mine has been laid, they often flee or launch a frenzied attack against their enemies. They specialise in laying mines to eliminate careless enemies, employing stealthy tactics to sneak onto the battlefield and deploy their explosives. Alternatively, they may rush in and drop mines in strategic locations, catching their foes off guard.

Troops who operate as bikers for the Rebel Army Bike Squad are required to wear grip-enhancing greyish-brown gloves, glossy black combat boots, and bronze-plated goggles. They utilise two different types of motorbikes, the Micka Horn and Thunder Moto, for quickly reaching their destination or attacking alongside moving vehicles. Sidecar bikers have an attached sidecar with a trooper carrying either a bazooka that fires homing missiles or a highly reliable automatic rifle. Fanatic bikers perform wheelies with their motorbike and will jump off when close to an enemy, allowing the motorbike to crash into the enemy. Missile bikers have a large missile secured to their back with three ropes; when ready, they’ll detonate it, sacrificing themselves in the process and launching a massive fireball.

Troops who operate as snipers are required to carry rifles that closely resemble the Mauser Karabiner 98k, along with a crimson waist pack for their special ammunition. These rifles have a slow rate of fire and are surprisingly unreliable, often jamming after only a few shots.

Troops who operate mortars are the light artillery of the army, being required to bombard oncoming enemies with high-explosive mortar rounds.

Troops who operate as Gatling soldiers are required to carry a heavy minigun with a back-mounted ammo supply. Due to the intense recoil, rapid overheating, and high ammo expenditure, they only fire in short bursts. Their large ammo containers, made of dark grey metal, are designed to withstand several shots.

Troops who operate as flamethrower soldiers are required to carry flamethrowers connected to canisters containing flammable induction particles, which enable them to control the shape and direction of their attacks.

Marine Troops

Troops wear a specially designed mottled grey and blue camouflage wetsuit, featuring a horizontal front zip and a hood with an integrated communication earpiece pocket. They wear durable flippers with rugged spikes in a rusty orange finish, which provide stability and traction on underwater terrain. Their underwater goggles are plated with durable copper and brass for corrosion resistance and clear visibility. Finally, they wear bronze-hued, waterproof gloves, ensuring dexterity and protection while handling equipment in wet conditions.

Troops who operate as rocket divers are required to hold a giant missile on their back. They're often positioned in medium-depth waters, sneaking up on enemies before jumping out of the water and tossing their rockets at them. The camouflage wetsuits of rocket divers have a bright yellow sheen, and they use a self-contained underwater breathing apparatus connected to two bulky air tanks.

Troops who operate as marine divers are required to carry an oil drum on their back, strapped to their shoulders by sturdy rope, which is fitted with explosive charges. The camouflage wetsuits of marine divers have a reddish-black sheen, and they wear rebreathers that allow them to reach a depth of 2,000 feet (609.6 metres).

Troops who operate as cannon divers are required to carry bazooka-styled cannons, utilise flotation devices or life preservers, and hide under bridges and cliffs to wait in ambush for their enemies. The camouflage wetsuits of cannon divers have a greyish-green sheen, but some of them wear only white boxers with crimson spots beneath their flotation gear.

Aerial Troops

Troops who operate as pilots wear fire-resistant Oxford blue flight suits, adorned with multiple pockets for storing essential gear. A transparent plastic pocket on the thigh holds aeronautical charts, while a built-in utility belt features a drop leg holster for their combat knives. They wear oxygen masks and helmets with communication speakers and bronze-plated goggles to ensure clear visibility and are equipped with night vision mode. They don steel-toed muddy brown safety boots with ankle support and flotation collars that automatically inflate in water.

Their uniforms are completed with woollen champagne-hued scarves, each featuring two scarlet stripes at both ends, and lapis lazuli blue armbands bearing the Rebel Army insignia. They carry desert tan load-bearing backpacks containing supplies provided by special forces, including survival radios, high-intensity flashlights, signal flares, aeronautical compasses, and whistles.

Troops who operate as special airborne soldiers comprise the female units of the aerial division. They don a cutting-edge, neuro-linked exosuit in a sleek, obsidian blue finish, reinforced with adaptive, impact-absorbing smart materials. The suit is integrated with a motorised helicopter backpack, enabling seamless transitions between ground and air operations. Advanced, high-resolution optics are embedded in the sleek, silver mirrored piloting goggles, providing real-time data overlays, low-light enhancement, and AI-assisted navigation. A compact, high-pressure air supply system is mounted on the chest plate, incorporating advanced oxygen recycling and CO2 scrubbing technology for extended high-altitude missions.

Beneath their exoskeleton, they don a sleek black tactical jumpsuit crafted from high-strength, bullet-resistant latex, reinforced with strategic padding at vital joints. Over this, they wear a ruggedized, tan-coloured MOLLE vest, equipped with four utility pouches. These soldiers are armed with either a portable Gatling gun or an AR-10, which fire homing missiles. Additionally, they wear a sturdy waist belt holding six canisters of flammable acid and eight smoke bombs, which can be thrown at their enemies.

Vehicles

Combat Vehicles

Type-2 Di-Cokka

Type-3 Bull Chan

Type-4 Girida-O

Type-5 Iron Iso

T-2B Melty Honey

Shoe & Karn

M-15A Bradley

Denturion

Big Shiee

LV Armor

Iron Nokana

Formor

Rebel Gigant

Emain Macha

Tani Oh

Iron Sentinel

Aircraft

R-Shobu

MH-6J Masknell

Tetsuyuki

Flying Tara

Eaca-B

Hi-Do

The Keesi II

The Keesi Mk. III

Hairbuster Riberts

Naval Vessels

Jet Hammer-Yang

Hammer-Yang

U25U

Mini-Sub 88

Hozmi

Morden's Battleship

Support Vehicles

MV-280B

Nop-03 Sarubia

MG-36

3-ton Utility Truck

Landseek

Rebel Van

M-3 Rocket Launch Support Van

Dararin Dara Dara

Mini-Bata

Mini-Blimps

Kaladgolg

Walking Locomotive

Vigilance

Balor

Pipe Spider

Jupiter King

Dragon Nosuke

Working Machines

Bull Drill

Aeshi Nero

Miscellaneous

Cabracan

Fall Climber

Special Weaponry

Support

TM-1 Missiles

Turrets (Anti Aircraft, Spike Bunker, Double Bunker, and Hill Turret)

Vigilance

Laser Drone

Patrol Robot

Metal Mole

Supervisory Cameras

Sensor Mine

Pods

Rebel Walker

Mosque Artillery

Spider Droid

Biological Weapons

Mutated Soldiers

Flying Killers

Enormous Moray

Chowmein-Congas

Ohumein-Congas

Huge Hermit

Rebel Army Base

The Fortress of Königsdrache serves as the strategic headquarters for Rebel Army operations and the residence of General Morden. Notably, its design bears a striking resemblance to Morden's Castle from Metal Slug 3D. Four large dark red banners, emblazoned with the Rebel Army insignia, flank the castle on all four sides, while advanced surveillance and monitoring networks secure the interior.

Beneath its foundation, the castle features a robust hexapedal locomotion system, comprising six arachnid-inspired, cybernetic legs. These legs are reinforced with insulated dark mahogany and myrtle green wiring. The wiring interfaces with an intricate network of brass fittings and copper pipes. Notably, the design of its mechanical legs is virtually identical to those found on Morden's Castle from Metal Slug 3D.

The castle's core houses a centralised arsenal, featuring four Denturion-like cannons that launch AI-guided, quantum-entangled TM-1 Missiles. These missiles employ real-time adaptive guidance, countering evasive maneuvers with precision. Flanking the primary arsenal are dual high-energy laser cannons, their prismatic lenses pulsating with intense, supercharged plasma. Supplementing the primary arsenal, sixteen omnidirectional, auto-targeting turrets are strategically positioned along the castle's periphery. These turrets unleash hypervelocity, explosive cannonballs at detected threats, guided by sophisticated real-time predictive analytics.

The grand hall boasts a large fireplace, a circular rosewood table, a gilded throne with a turquoise-dotted crimson seat cushion, and fifty mahogany business chairs, where General Morden's strategic command team convenes, supported by communication arrays and a holographic map of the world. The central courtyard boasts a fountain showcasing a unique four-winged angel with the head of a crocodile, carrying a water jug, while a crowned swan follows closely behind. The courtyard is surrounded by lush greenery and vibrant flower beds, adorned with a variety of blooms, including foxgloves, delphiniums, peonies, clematis, honeysuckles, lavender, sunflowers, dahlias, and castor oil plants.

The castle features a stunning chapel adorned with vibrant stained-glass windows, depicting angels with magnificent wings, shown assisting humans and battling demons. It also boasts a sunny retreat for General Morden, a vast library housing a diverse collection of manuscripts and books across various genres, and a kitchen accompanied by a well-stocked pantry. Additional facilities include a dungeon designated for holding special prisoners, an infirmary for medical care, a bathhouse for relaxation, and a gatehouse for secure entry and exit. 

The personal quarters of General Morden, Sagan, and Logan include three bedrooms, three private offices, a situation room, a secure storage facility for their personal arsenal and tactical gear, and direct access to the grand hall and other critical areas of the fortress via secret passageways and elevators. General Morden's Space Tank and the original Shoe & Karn, which belong to Sagan and Logan respectively, are housed in a garage that doubles as an entrance to a subterranean chamber. The basement houses 30 cyborg replicas, consisting of three sets of 10 identical units, modelled after Morden, Sagan, and Logan. Additionally, the room features a vast wardrobe, storing a customised outfit for each cyborg duplicate. The replicas stand upright in cryogenic tubes, lining both walls, receiving a vital, tar-like liquid that prevents mechanical corrosion and digital decay.

The fortress also comprises an armoury and munitions room, a heavily fortified storage facility for advanced weaponry, ammunition, and equipment; the barracks, special accommodations for elite Rebel Army personnel featuring personal quarters, training facilities, and armouries; and an intelligence hub, a cutting-edge facility for gathering, analysing, and disseminating critical information to support Rebel Army operations. Within the castle, other rooms include:

A crystal-clear sky dome with an automatic emergency closure system featuring a dark grey adamant barrier.

Comfy beds and toys for the elite’s German Shepherds and Doberman Pinschers, complete with a doggy playground and a pet grooming station.

An environmental aquarium suitable for four Enormous Morays (Helen, Linda, Jenny, and Barbie) and a few Flying Killers with a simulated ocean current and a treasure chest feeder.

A central tubular fish tank full of tiny jellyfish, surrounded by a circular seating area with velvet cushions.

A hidden passageway behind the aquarium leading to a secret room with a doggy cinema playing canine favourites.

A dog treat bar offering healthy snacks and refreshing drinks for the furry friends.

A veterinary care station with state-of-the-art equipment for any medical needs.

Extra Information

Most pilots and special airborne soldiers are Rebel Army cadets with either sufficient or barely passable piloting skills. However, some are kidnapped Regular Army cadets who have been brainwashed and enticed with promises such as financial aid—and, if female, subjected to emotional manipulation—to serve General Morden's cause. To maintain their obedience, they are forcibly administered amphetamine pills and methamphetamine injections on a weekly basis. This potentially explains why some pilots exhibit self-destructive behaviour, such as kamikaze attacks.

Fanatic land troops are known to ingest hallucinogens, believing it will render them numb to the emotional pain associated with taking lives. They also believe it will intensify their conviction to eradicate all governmental and militant corruption. They claim to receive visions revealing strategies to annihilate their enemies and words of encouragement from General Morden, who’s revered as a deity-like figure.

Many soldiers fear the fanatic land troops due to their unpredictable, drug-crazed, violent behaviour, which targets not only enemies but also perceived threats to their well-being and anyone who insults them. However, other soldiers resent these troops for receiving disproportionate attention and praise from General Morden, who favours them for their veteran status, bravery, and unwavering loyalty. Furthermore, they’re troubled by their unsettling dynamic with Sagan. They lavish her with gifts of devotion and gratitude, including the severed heads of their enemies and traitors. In return, Sagan reciprocates with a mixture of hallucinogens, other drugs, alcohol, and sexual favours.

Similar to the fanatic land troops, marine divers known to be suicidally fanatical and extremely loyal to the Rebel Army's cause, willing to sacrifice themselves to secure a better future for their faction.

Some male fanatic land troops, bikers, and marine divers have been known to engage in coercive recruitment tactics, including love bombing to manipulate women into joining the Rebel Army's land, marine, and aerial divisions. Additionally, there have been instances of sexual assault perpetrated by these individuals against women in opposing factions.

The bodyguard armour stands at an impressive 8 ft (243.84 cm) in height. However, many individuals inside these suits exist in a severely degraded yet remarkably functional state, despite suffering from adverse reactions caused by their genetic enhancement. This enhancement involves the forced integration of Tuatha Dé Danann DNA into their genome through chemical means.

Certain cadets turn to stimulants to stay alert and focused, while others use them as an escape, attempting to dull the psychological impact of warfare and the moral weight of harming others.

Some soldiers have a habit of slacking off, engaging in activities such as calling loved ones, taking smoke breaks, gossiping, cooking food, dancing to music played on the boombox, drinking, flirting with those who catch their attention or playing games on their handheld consoles.

[jumpingjoltiks]

A Risky Flirtation

Warnings: Jealousy, Sugar Daddy-esque relationships

(Sugar Daddy!Submas x Reader)

The Twins bring you to lots of events. Charity galas, premiers, battling contests - they're invited to plenty of things that they can't always say no to, so you end up at fancy parties two to three times a month, maybe more. Not that you're complaining. Your little side job pays very well, and ever since they asked you to be their "regular" date, they've been quite generous with other gifts too.

It's at one of these parties that you happen to meet four of the most prestigious battlers in the world - Unova's Elite Four.

The twins have introduced you to plenty of gym leaders by this point, and of course, you knew Elisa even before you knew them, but the Elite Four are different. They're curious about you, a newcomer to the scene. It's hard not to notice when they go out of their way to talk to you.

And it's hard for Ingo and Emmet not to notice when the Elite Four start openly encouraging that interest.

Whether you're admiring Marshall's muscles, laughing at one of Grimsley's jokes over a game of poker, talking to Shauntal about her new book, or having a quiet moment with Caitlin over champagne, the twins are capital J Jealous.

It takes them a few events to realize what this strange mix of feelings is - the anger, the despair, the longing, the frustration - and by the time they have some tabloids have already caught on. Part of why it takes them as long as it does is that ... they really shouldn't be feeling this way.

They definitely can't say anything to you outright, because technically your relationship is strictly business... isn't it? They won't forbid you from spending time with anyone else. You should be allowed to have fun with whoever you want, as long as you're still fulfilling your job as their (secretly platonic) date. It doesn't, shouldn't matter how they feel. But they just can't get it out of their heads whenever the E4 are around.

Fortunately for them, there are two of them. One of them can always swoop in to distract you, even if the other is held up. Emmet pulls you square into his lap during poker and has you pick cards for him. He whispers in your ear to stay focused while his thumb rubs circles on your hip. Ingo whisks you into a dance and away from Marshall and Shauntal, his graceful movements take your breath away. It feels like dancing on air with him. Both twins saddle up on either side of you when you're with Caitlin, placing a hand on each hip and offering you a new flute of champagne.

The Elite Four are not blind. They can see how deep in Ingo and Emmet already are for you and have discussed it among themselves. It's become a little game for them to see how quickly they can rile the boys up.

As for yourself, you love the attention. Your heart warms each time the twins tumble over themselves to be near you. And sure, maybe that's them trying to prove to the cameras that they're good dates (they DO get a lot of good press in the days following). But could it be something more? It felt real, but can your feelings be trusted? Or are you just trying to see something that's not there? What would really be the harm in flirting a little more to find out...

[bullet-prooflove]

3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did - Part Two: Sassy - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark @thiashazzywriting @whateversomethingbruh @trublu2u @stelacole

3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did:

Part One: Adjustment Period - Nik decides it's time to propose.

Sabatino’s going to propose tonight.

He’s ready, he thinks you’re ready.

You’ve been happier since he quit the CIA. He thought the transition period would be a little more awkward, that you’d fight over stuff like emptying the dishwasher, but you don’t. That’s all-petty shit compared to what the two of you have been through.

You’d been ecstatic when he suggested dinner at Elixir, it’s been on your radar since you saw the reviews in the LA Times a couple of months ago. It had been impossible to get a reservation, until Fatima had pulled some strings. She’d made arrangements with the manager for some private time on the rooftop terrace, they’re going to set up some champagne, add a few touches to make it special. Sabatino owes that woman big time.

It feels like the stars have aligned, because everything is going perfectly. The weather is balmy, the sky is clear. Somehow the two of you are both home at a reasonable hour which almost never happens in your line of work, giving you plenty of time to get ready.

He’s pulled out his best suit for the occasion, it’s blue with tailored fit, he wears a crisp white shirt underneath. He doesn’t get much opportunity to wear a suit anymore now that he’s with the US Marshalls, he’s missed it. He catches a glance of himself in the mirror in the living room, smoothing his palm over his hair once more. He’s feeling good about tonight, he looks good. His hand drifts to his left interior pocket, checking for the ring. It’s the millionth time he’s done this in the past hour, and it still resides in the same place.

When you step out of the bedroom, he thinks he could just marry you there and then. You’re wearing a black, off the shoulder dress that clings to your form like it was made for you. You’ve always been beautiful but this, this is next level.

“You’re stunning,” He tells you, the edges of his mouth twitching up into a smile. His hands come to rest on your hips, his thumbs chasing over the line of your panties through the fabric as his lips brush over the curve of your jaw. “So gorgeous, I’m not sure we’re gonna make it out of the house.”

You laugh as your fingers lace at the back of his neck. The scent of your perfume floods him, it’s new something a little darker, a little sexier. You really are pulling out all the stops tonight.

“Wait until you see what I’m wearing underneath.” You whisper, your breath ghosting in his ear. It sends a thrill chasing through his nerve endings. It’s an exhilarating feeling to be desired by you and he treasures that sensation.  

“How about a sneak peek?” He asks you, his voice husky before he holds up his fingers to indicate the measurement. “Just a little one.”

“Nik…”

He fucking loves the way you say his name, when you get back home, he’s going to spend the entire night making you say it.

When the doorbell rings he wants to ignore it but then there’s the knocking. The rapid, incessive raps that he knows can only belong to one person.

No, he pleads, not tonight.

Any other time, just not tonight.

As soon as you open the door, he knows his night is over.

Your younger sister Sassy stands on the doorstep with a Louis Vuitton overnight bag slung over her shoulder and mascara running down her cheeks. Your sister is an adult version of a Valley Girl, selfish and over the top. It’s going to be one of those nights he can tell.  

The thing about Sassy, she’s a hot mess. She hasn’t met a wellness craze or a man who earns more than six figures she doesn’t like. She switches careers more than she hops fiancés, which by his reckoning must be coming up to double figures soon. The other thing is she’s also the only family you have in this world so when she’s in ‘crisis’ you drop everything.

Sabatino sighs before stripping off his suit jacket and folding it over the back of the couch. He undoes the cuffs of his shirt before rolling his sleeves up towards his elbows. He knows you’re not making that reservation; he also knows you skipped lunch in anticipation of tonight, so he busies himself in the kitchen. He makes linguini alfredo while he listens with half an ear to Sassy as she tells a story he’s heard a thousand times before.

She was engaged to Anton, who caught her in an intimate embrace with Tobias, now he’s broken off the engagement and she’s realised he was the only man she ever loved. She’d said the exact same thing about David and Juan before him. He gives it a week until she finds some other rich, young thing to torture.

It’s when you disappear into the bedroom to get changed out of your dress that something in his chest just sinks. He glances at the clock and sighs because that special moment he’d planned, it’s passed. Dinner and a rooftop proposal at Elixir was a one-time thing and now it’s been wasted.

“You’re usually a lot more vocal.” Sassy says as she picks up the half empty bottle of red wine and tops up her glass.

It’s the good wine of course, the one you usually buy for special occasions. She’d taken it out of the wine rack the second she’d step foot in the kitchen, helping herself.

“You don’t want my input.” He warns her as he takes two plates out of the cupboard and sets them down on the counter.

“That’s never stopped you before.” She points out before gesturing at the space between his brows. “You’re in a mood, you have that little crease you always get when you’re trying to bite your tongue.”

Despite the fact Sassy is a complete disaster in every aspect of her life, she’s emotionally intelligent. She reads body language like a pro, it’s the reason she’s managed to ensnare so many affluent men.

“We had plans tonight.” He says, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. “And as usual you bulldoze your way in here with your melodrama and theatrics. You don’t care about this guy, just like the fact you won’t care about the next one. You just like being the centre of attention and when you’re not getting it from them, you come running back here to get it to your sister. It’s the same thing everytime.”

“Oh Vostanik.” She tuts, his full name rolling off her lips harshly. “You haven’t been around long enough to judge the relationship I have with my sister.”

“Almost five years.” He informs her, his mouth setting into a grim line. “That’s how long I’ve been with Alana.”

“You were barely in her life for four of them.” She reminds him, swilling the wine glass in her hand. “She’s the girl you fucked when you came to LA, I’m sure you had one in every port, you private security guys always do.”

Private security was the cover story you both used to explain his absence in your life. He was away in foreign countries ‘consulting’. Sassy thought he’d been living it up with sheiks in Dubai instead of evading capture in Iran. She’s accused him before of fucking his way through continents. He’s denied it of course, but when that woman gets something in her head there’s no telling her otherwise.

“You do know the only reason she’s with you is out of obligation.” She tells him as she takes a sip from the wine glass. “My sister is extremely loyal, and I think if you hadn’t taken that bullet for her in Afghanistan then we wouldn’t even be here. She’d be happily married to a man who deserves her, instead of stagnating in a relationship that’s going nowhere.”

It's a slap in the face, one that hits him hard because he’s always had this doubt, this tiny insecurity that the reason you’re with him is because you feel indebted to him on some level. Sassy’s picked up on that, he realises. That’s what your sister does. She finds the weak spot and she pushes it and pushes it until it gives.

Every single part of him wants to kick her out, to tell her he’s sick of all the drama, that she needs to grow the fuck up and take a long, hard look at her life choices. The only reason he doesn’t is because the only person it’ll be hurting is you and he would do anything to prevent that.

You step out of the bedroom just as he snatches up his jacket from the coat hooks. You’ve changed into one of his old band t-shirts and leggings, a pair of his socks are pulled up over the calves. His heart warms at the sight of you because no matter what Sassy says, it’s these moments that mean the world to him.

“I’ve made dinner.” He tells you, tipping your chin up so you can look into his eyes. He hopes you see the love there, that he’s not running from you right now but from the situation because he knows if he sticks around, he’s going to say something he regrets. “I’m gonna go out for a while, catch up with Deeks, give the two of you a little space.”

He sees the slight furrow in your brow, you know that something’s happened, but he can’t bring himself to explain it, not with Sassy still sitting there watching the exchange over the rim of her wine glass.

“I love you.” He says as his lips brushing over yours tenderly. He’s not ashamed to say it or to show it. He doesn’t give a shit if Sassy believes him or not, all that matters is that you do. You smile as he pulls away and he knows he has nothing to worry about, that Sassy’s just yanking his chain the same way as always. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 26

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Reader has left the country to try and deal with her breakup with Em. She thinks it's over until she gets a call... from Hailie.

Tags : ANGST, Comfort

Y/N’s POV

You’d been back in France for a few months and you were finally a doctor. You had successfully defended your doctoral dissertation over zoom and it was one of the happiest, most relieving days of your entire life. It was quite an accomplishment and you felt extremely proud. Of course, it wasn’t the whole ordeal it would have been if you had stayed in Michigan : the university would have organized a designated event and you would have invited a lot of people to celebrate this milestone with you. Instead, it had been you, wearing a blazer in front of your computer for a Zoom call with the jury, while people you knew watched the livestream. It was a little sad, for sure, but ultimately, you knew that coming back to France was the best decision for your mental health. 

The breakup with Marshall had taken quite a toll on you and you had not been able to function properly. Everything made you think of him and you had come to the conclusion that you would never heal if you had constant reminders. Talia and Jamal were sad to let you go, but they did it for your sake. Also, you did not want to impose and be a burden for your best friends. A few weeks after the breakup, things had gotten so bad that Talia had to help you shower and monitor your eating. Back then, you weren’t doing much : trying to work on your dissertation and crying, only sleeping when you were exhausted. It wasn’t a proper way to live and you knew it. Hence your decision to go back to France and live with your Dad. For university as well as most people you knew, the official reason for your departure was that you had family issues that required your presence. It was a blatant lie and you felt guilty, but you did what you had to do to go forward. Everyone had been nice and supportive, especially people you knew from the studio. Even Paul was kind to you and, when Jamal told him you were leaving, he even offered for you to take the private jet. You had refused, but you appreciated the thought, even though you suspected that he just wanted to make sure that you were leaving for good and wouldn’t be a disturbance to Marshall’s work life. 

Regardless of the distance, your friends came through for your dissertation defense and they watched the livestream as you achieved your long-term ambition of becoming a doctor. You were truly touched by everyone’s support. They had even sent gifts to be delivered to your place the day after. You were treated to bottles of champagne (from people who did not know you were sober), gourmet baskets, bouquets of flowers… The biggest gift of all, though, came from Marshall. 

FLASHBACK 

Upon landing in Paris, you found that Marshall had tried to reach you while you were on the flight. Of course, you had the urge to call him back, after all the texts you had sent. 

Hello ? You heard his sleepy voice say on the phone. 

Oh my God, am I waking you up ? You asked as you were suddenly reminded of the time difference. 

Mmmh yeah, he said. It’s ok though. Thanks for calling me back. 

Sorry I missed your call, you said sheepishly. I just landed in Paris. 

How was the flight ? He asked. 

Good. Got an upgrade so I flew in business class instead of the coach, so  it was pleasant. 

Good, he said softly. Look, I… I’m sorry it took so long for you to get a hold of me. I completely unplugged and by the time I checked my phone, you were gone. I want you to know that I would have come and said goodbye. I was too late. 

Thank you, you whispered in a sigh of relief. I thought you didn’t want to see me… 

Of course I did, he replied. Also, thank you for the package. Jamal gave it to me and I’m… speechless. You know what I mean ? It means so much. I’m touched. 

You’re welcome, you said. I was afraid it would be too much. 

It’s definitely too much, he said with a small laugh. You shouldn’t spend too much on me. But the pen and the notebook are beautiful. 

I’m glad you like them. They made me think of you. I was saving them for your birthday, but… You know. 

I should have been the one treating you to fancy stuff, he mumbled. If I’d known you’d be leaving, I would at least have arranged for you to fly private. 

I know, you said softly. Paul offered the jet when he knew I was leaving, but I refused. 

Marshall went silent on the phone for a few seconds - enough to make you wonder if he had actually hung up on you. 

I see. I read your letter. I get it, he said. 

I’m sorry, you said flatly. 

I’m sorry, Y/N… I wish I had known you were struggling. I wish you would have called me. 

I couldn’t, you replied in a creaky voice. It’s too hard, Marshall. 

I know, he said softly. But just so you know… You being on another fucking continent doesn’t mean I’m not here if you need, alright ? You can call me if you need anything. I mean it. 

Promise I will, if I ever need a plane, you chuckled. 

You know what I mean, he said sternly. 

I do. Thank you, you said softly. 

Anyway… Congratulations are in order, I guess ? You’re finally done with your work, he said. 

I am, you said with a smile. Thank you. 

Thank you for the acknowledgement, too. That was the sweetest thing ever, he said softly. 

Not too cheesy ? 

Just enough, he said with a laugh. Jamal told me you’d do the whole defense over Zoom and that they’d be watching. Can I watch too ? You know, I would have loved to be here on your big day if it had been in Detroit.

Please don’t, you found yourself saying. I appreciate the support but I just can’t do it if I know you’re watching. 

I get it, he said sheepishly. But I know you’ll do great. I’ll be thinking of you. I always am anyway… 

Thank you, Marshall, you said in a whisper. I always think about you too…

I read that, yeah, he whispered back. 

Silence again. 

I should probably let you sleep, you said. 

…Ok, he replied. Thank you for calling, Y/N. Take care, alright ? 

Bye, you said softly. 

You heard him hang up the phone and whispered “I love you”, on the verge of tears. Now that you were back in France, something painful hit you : it may be the place that you were born, but it wasn’t home. Home was the place you had left six weeks ago. Home was Marshall. And now, you had to start all over again. 

END OF FLASHBACK 

About a week after your dissertation defense, you received the most enormous package you had ever seen in your life. You weren’t even sure how it could have been handled by the postal services. It contained the biggest bouquet of flowers you had ever seen - some real Dubaï Housewife Instagram stuff - a black velvet box containing an exquisite diamond solitaire necklace, as well as a gorgeous watch from Cartier. Of course, it was from Marshall. You didn’t even need to read the card. He knew this watch was your dream one - the one you wanted to get when you had achieved something significant, when you truly became successful. The box also contained a letter, written in his penmanship that you loved so much : 

“Dear Y/N, 

It’s my turn to make a big gesture. Congratulations on your achievement. You were absolutely amazing (unsurprisingly so). I might have hidden in a corner of the room when Talia and Jamal watched your defense (hope you don’t get mad at me). I hope you like the necklace, though it won’t do you justice. The watch is set in the Detroit time zone, just in case you want to call any of us. We’re all thinking of you. Especially me. 

Love you always, 

Marshall.” 

You immediately sent him a thank-you text and the two of you texted for a bit but you didn’t really keep in touch. In the following weeks, your former roommates mentioned him when you were on the phone, but that was about it. You didn’t really know what he was up to, although you guessed he was working, as usual. The only other type of information that you had was from his official social media accounts so, really, there was no way for you to know how he was actually doing, apart from tweets about the Lions games and a few Instagram posts managed by his team. 

Weeks went by and you received a package from Shady Records. It contained a CD version of the new album as well as a small box with a vintage portable CD player and Beats headphones, along with a note from Marshall. 

“Dear Y/N, 

I don’t know if you’re old enough to own anything that can play a CD, so I included one of my own players for you to listen to the album (take good care of it, it’s one of my favorites). We’re finally done with the new album. Thank you for every minute you spent in the studio, for all the time you spent encouraging and listening to me and for all the times you listened to some of these tracks. This album would not be the same without you.

Love, 

Marshall.

PS : whenever you get a CD, always check the booklet :)” 

You knew the album was coming. Jamal had mentioned it, although he was probably not supposed to, knowing how secretive Marshall and his team could be about this. However, holding a physical copy of the album felt different, not to mention how thoughtful and personal the gift from Marshall was. You immediately opened the case and looked at the track list. It included some of the songs you liked the most - some of which you had actually witnessed the recording of. You remembered the times you gave him your opinion and it seemed like he had taken it in consideration. There were some newly recorded tracks as well. 

Before listening, you took a look at the booklet. You found your name in the acknowledgement section. 

“To Y/N. Thank you for everything. You deserve a whole album, but I hope a song will do. Check track n.12”. 

Curiosity got the best of you and, of course, it was the first track you listened to, as you skipped the first eleven ones. It was a track you had never heard before, so you could only assume it was recorded after your breakup. It was a feature with Skylar Grey, a dark, sad yet beautiful love song. It seemed like a conversation between two lovers parting ways. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard a line you distinctively remembered writing in your letter : “Every little thing is a reminder of what once was and will never be again. And being reminded that I had everything and lost it all is too much pain”. 

You shed an emotional tear at the idea that your letter had inspired him to write such beautiful, yet sad lyrics. You listened to the whole album with your eyes closed, letting Marshall’s soothing voice fill your ears. You had always liked the way he could play with his voice, conveying so many different emotions. For a minute, it seemed like he was in the room with you. 

Once you were done, you immediately texted him. With a newly released album, there was no doubt that he would be busy and you didn’t want to disturb him. 

To M : Thank you or the album. And the CD player. And the acknowledgement. And track 12. Loved every second. PS : Let me know if you ever need a ghostwriter again 🙂

Much to your surprise, he responded immediately. 

From M : Glad you liked it. Though I should tell you that ghostwriters usually aren’t credited. 

To M : For you ? I’ll skip the credit. Just write me a big, FAT check. 

From M : Check the booklet again… Credit section. Is wire transfer ok ? 🙂

Your heart skipped another beat. He didn’t… Did he ?! 

You looked at the credits for the song and noticed that the list was surprisingly short compared to the rest of the album, prompting you to think that fewer people had been involved in the making of the track. It mentioned Marshall, Jamal, Skylar Grey and… yourself. Your name was mentioned as a lyricist. 

Without a second thought, you FaceTimed Marshall who immediately picked up with a smile on his face. 

You didn’t !!! You exclaimed. 

I did, he said with a chuckle. That’s your line after all. 

You didn’t need to credit me ! 

You know I give credit where it’s due, he replied. I’ll send a contract your way. I can even get Paul to talk numbers with you. Just keep it reasonable, ok ? It’s one line. 

I don’t want money, you said with a laugh. I just can’t believe you did this. You turned a part of my letter into a song and dedicated that stuff to me ! That’s just…

Yeah ? 

Well that’s crazy, you simply said. 

Well I’m crazy about you, you know ? He mused. 

After all this time ? 

Always. 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. 

Harry Potter reference ? You giggled. 

You’ve been on my back about these movies and how I haven’t seen all of them so I caught up, he chuckled. I actually watched the last one a few days ago. 

You should read the books now, you said. 

Not a chance. 

You stared at the screen and watched his face, or at least the part you could see, since he was holding his phone in weird angles, as the boomer and technophobe he very much was. He seemed to have lost a bit of weight but you weren’t too sure. 

Y/N ? He asked as you went silent. 

Sorry, you said. I’m a bit tired. 

Yeah, you look like a panda, he said with a smile. Or a raccoon. 

That’s what happens when you make me cry with your music and acknowledgements, you replied as you playfully rolled your eyes. 

Her smiled and chuckled. Hearing his laugh was medicine. Talking to him felt good too. It was the first time you felt alive in weeks. 

What are you doing ? You asked. Did I wake you up ?

Nope, it’s still daytime here, he said. I’m at home, resting a little and packing my bag for some promo tour. I have a couple interviews planned in New York and LA next week. We’re also looking at actual tour dates for this autumn. 

That’s soon, you pointed out. 

Yeah, it’s a surprise tour, he said. A small one. Just a couple of dates here and there, US and Europe, to see if I can still attract the crowds, I guess. 

Of course you can, you scoffed. People are going to go crazy. Are you excited ? 

Yeah, I like performing, he said with a smile. I don’t really like tour life, though. I’m just afraid I’m a bit rusty. I haven’t done that in a while. 

You’ll do great, you said reassuringly. A couple of sold out stadiums and you’re good. Where are you performing ? 

So far, I think we have Detroit, New York, LA, Berlin, London and Amsterdam, he explained. We’re also talking about some festival dates, but that’ll be for next summer. We’ll see. 

You found yourself a little sad that he didn’t mention Paris. It would have been the perfect excuse and opportunity to see him perform. After all, he was known to put on quite a show. But perhaps it was for the best. Maybe it was a bad idea. After all, you had literally fled to another country so that you could heal from your breakup. Talking to him was one thing, but seeing him in person was another. 

How about you ? He asked. What’s up with your career ? 

My career as a lyricist ? You joked. It’s going great. 

Seriously, I want to know, he said with a smile. 

Not much. I teach a couple of hours a week at university, you said. It’s not a fancy position or anything, and it’s actually ending soon, but it’s the best I could find. I’ll have to apply to other jobs. 

Your students must be lucky to have you, he mused. 

I’m kind of a bitch when it comes to grading, you chuckled. 

Do you enjoy it ? 

Love it, you said with a genuine smile. I can’t wait to  have an actual job in the field and make a living out of it. 

You don’t, yet ? He asked. 

Right now, I don’t work much so the income is not the best, you admitted. But it’s fine. 

You manage to pay the rent alright ? 

I’m living with my Dad so I don’t need to, you shrugged. Plus, you know me, I’m not high maintenance so it’s fine, really… 

You know, if you need money…, he began. 

I don’t, you said. 

Let me at least pay you for the lyrics, he offered. 

Not a chance, you said sternly. If you give me a dime, it means you’re sending the letter back and you don’t want it. 

Fine, he groaned. But can you promise me you’ll be alright ? 

Yes. Promise me you will be alright ? 

Promise. I’m sorry, I have to go, he said with a sad voice. The girls are coming to my place. 

Enjoy, you said softly. It was great talking to you. 

Thanks. Take care, alright ? 

Take care. 

The call ended and, for the first time in weeks, you had an actual smile on your face. You were happy you got to see him and hear his voice. You were also giddy and emotional over the fact that you had a song on his album that you could actually claim as yours. It was by far the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you. 

Weeks went by and you got a chance to catch a few interviews of Marshall talking about his new record. Obviously, it was doing really well in sales and streams and fans were obsessing over it - yet another surprise album he had quietly dropped after years of anticipation. Track number 12 turned out to be a fan favorite too. You liked watching the interviews as it allowed you to, once more, see and hear him. It was almost like a guilty pleasure and you could get where his Stans were coming from. He was always fascinating. By watching them, you could confirm that he had lost quite a bit of weight. He still looked good, obviously - to you he always did. But you did notice a few comments about his appearance. Some said he looked sick and tired. One journalist even confronted him about it. 

I have to ask, because the Internet is obsessing over it at this point, man. You have lost some weight haven’t you ? 

Yeah, I have, he confirmed quietly. 

Are you on some sort of diet ? 

Nope. I’m just eating healthy, exercising… staying in shape, you know ? 

So you’re healthy ? Everyone seems worried about you. 

I’m good, he chuckled. I’m just not twenty anymore, you know. I’ve been working a lot on the record so that’s probably where the extra wrinkles and dark circles come from. Plus, i kind of had to get fitter. We’ve been shooting a couple of music videos and, at this point, I can officially announce that we’re going on a few surprise dates to perform in a few months, so… if people want to make sure I’m healthy, just come to the shows, ok ? There’s gonna be some dates in the US, UK and Europe, to be announced really really soon. 

He smiled as the audience clapped and easily got the conversation to shift. 

It's quite a surprise isn’t it ? The journalist asked. We haven’t seen you perform in forever ! 

I have to get back into it, right ? I miss the fans, the energy. Recording music is great, but performing, it’s another thing. I like both, you know ? 

Why didn’t you plan more dates ? And why so soon ? 

As I said, man, I have to get back into it. I didn’t want to wait too long to perform the new tracks and that’s kind of the downside when you drop surprise albums like that, you can’t exactly plan a tour easily. Otherwise people will know about what’s coming. Plus, I’m at a point where I’d like to see if I can still sell out venues without advertising a year and a half in advance. 

The interviewer went on to ask some more questions about the tour but Marshall wouldn’t give too much information. 

Eventually, the interview ended and you had to refrain yourself from actually searching for the tour dates and booking tickets for whatever show. You knew it would probably be a mistake. Plus, even though you weren’t strapped for cash, you couldn’t really afford concert tickets and travel. It wouldn’t be reasonable. After a while, you ended up realizing that watching those interviews on loop was messing with your brain. It only made you miss him more and it wasn’t helping you to get better. You were still struggling, even though it was not as bad as when you had left Detroit. You had lost quite a bit of weight too - about thirty pounds to be exact and, even though you fought hard to stay clean, you didn’t exactly lead the healthiest of lifestyles, barely eating and struggling to sleep at night, only passing out when you were exhausted. 

You figured out it was yet another thing to recover from : your addiction to Marshall Bruce Mathers III. You had to, otherwise you would never move forward. Although, as time flew by, you couldn’t help but think that leaving him was your biggest mistake. You didn’t care about kids and marriage nearly as much as you cared about him. But you had to move on. What was done was done, you were in another country and there was no going back. 

At some point, you stopped checking the interviews, even unfollowed him on social media. Eventually, you stopped mentioning him and his music altogether when you spoke with Talia and Jamal. You decided that denial may be the best option you had for the time being. The only thing you did indulge in was track number 12. But only because you were one of the lyricists, so that made it ok, right ? Right ? 

A couple more months went by and it was autumn. You fought against the thought that Marshall would soon be in Europe. Closer than ever. Your contract with university had not been renewed and, in spite of a lot of applications, you hadn’t found a job yet. So you were left alone with your intrusive thoughts and spent most of your days mindlessly watching movies and reading books. You didn’t go out much and most of your social interactions were through your phone, with Talia and Jamal. When it rang, you picked up without even looking at the caller ID. Who else would call anyway ? Hiring season was over, so it wouldn’t be for a job. 

What’s up Talia ? You asked as you closed your book. 

It’s not Talia, you heard Hailie’s voice say. 

Your heart immediately began to race. If she was calling you, it couldn’t be good. After your last interactions, it was clear that she wasn’t your biggest fan and wouldn’t be calling to check up on you and have some girly chat anytime soon. For a second, you were worried that she was calling to tell you something awful had happened to Marshall. 

Oh my God, what’s wrong ? What happened to him ? You immediately asked. 

What ? She asked. 

You’re calling me. We both know it can’t be good. 

You heard her sigh on the other end of the phone. 

You’re right, it’s not, she said. 

What’s wrong ? 

What’s wrong is that Dad is miserable without you, she stated. What’s wrong is that you left him months ago and now he is a mess. 

I was trying to do the right thing, you said sheepishly. I guess you made some pretty valid points, Hailie... 

Look, I hate to admit it, but I was wrong about some of it, she said in an annoyed voice. I guess you made him happy and that you were good for him after all. I’m… sorry for saying some of those mean things. 

Thank you, you whispered. 

Did you really love him ? She asked. 

Of course, you said. With all of my heart. 

Do you still ? 

I… Yeah, you sighed. I do. 

Then I need a favor, she said. 

You were surprised. Hailie calling you was the last thing you expected. Especially not for a favor. You knew how proud she could be. 

Go on, you said. I can’t promise I’ll say yes, though. 

Will you please come to the Amsterdam show ? She asked. It’s the last of the tour and it falls on his birthday.

Do you think it’s a good idea ? You asked. I’m not even sure he would want me there. 

He still loves you, Y/N, she sighed. Of course he would want to see you. Look… Do you want to be with him or not ? 

You sighed. Of course you wanted to be with him. In fact, it was the only certainty you had about your future : that you actually wanted to be with him. You had done a lot of soul-searching in the past months, and you had come to the conclusion that, even though you had always wanted to get married and have kids, you didn’t care as much about your hypothetical future husband and kids as much as you cared about Marshall. When you imagined your future, you only saw him. You had ever met anybody as good for you as him. 

Y/N ? Hailie asked after you’d been silent for a minute. 

Sorry, you said. Yes, I do. I want to be with him. 

Then please come to Amsterdam and get back with Dad, she said. He needs you. I’m still mad at you, but I’m not too proud to admit that you were good for him after all. Looking back, I had never seen him so happy than when you were in his life. 

Are you actually giving me your blessing to date your dad ? You asked in disbelief. 

Don’t read too much into it, she said in an annoyed voice. If you’re what it takes to make him happy again, I will find a way to put up with you. I’ll e-mail you with your plane tickets and we’ll discuss the details later ok ? 

I’ll get my own, you said with sass. I would hate for you to think that I’m taking advantage of your family money. 

Please shut up, she groaned. I’m doing my best to be nice to you and you’re not making it easy. I will book your tickets and you will accept them. 

Thank you, you said as you eased up a little. 

I’ll talk to you soon, ok ? For the details of the surprise and stuff, Hailie said. 

Ok, you said. By the way… I heard you guys were engaged. Congratulations. 

Oh you heard about that ? She asked as you could hear her smile. Congrats on the PhD. 

Thank you. 

You smiled. You were pretty sure she still despised you, but at least, these words meant that you could be civil towards one another. After another exchange of words, you said your goodbyes and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. After nearly six months apart, you were going to see the love of your life. 

In the following weeks, leading up to your trip to Amsterdam, you were a nervous mess and Talia spent a lot of time on the phone with you, convincing you that it was, indeed, a good idea. For the first time in months, you were looking forward to something and it was quite a feat. Hailie had booked first class tickets from Paris to Amsterdam, which was extremely generous. It seemed like she was intent on making it a good surprise for Marshall and convincing you to come. She even texted back and forth with you to make sure you were actually coming and would not miss the flight. She even bought a fancy hotel room for you, just in case. 

When you got out of the plane, she was waiting for you, along with Stevie and Alaina. The reunion with Hailie was a bit awkward but her sisters were all smiles. You made small talk in the car that was taking you from Schiphol Airport to the hotel everyone was staying at. 

How was your flight ? Hailie asked in an attempt to make small talk. 

It was good, you said shyly. Thank you again for the first class ticket. I would have flown in economy, though. It’s a short trip. 

Well, we want the surprise to go well, Stevie giggled. Putting you in a good mood is part of the plan. 

Shouldn’t you be spending the day with him ? You asked. 

We arrived in Amsterdam yesterday to surprise him, Alaina explained. We also spent this morning with him but now he is doing sound-checks and rehearsals. He won’t even notice we’re gone. 

So, what’s the plan ? You asked. 

We have a few hours before the show, Hailie said. We’ll sneak you in the arena with a bit of help from Porter and Paul. We’ll hide in the crowd during the show and go backstage afterwards, so that you can go and see him. 

Ok, you said nervously. 

You stared at the three of them. The whole situation was definitely weird. 

Don’t be nervous, Alaina said with a smile. It’ll be fine. 

It’s been six months, you said sheepishly. What if he’s mad at me ? 

He’s not mad at you, Hailie said softly. He misses you. A lot. 

Are you sure ? 

In the past few months, we’ve never seen him as happy as the few times he got off the phone with you or texted you, Stevie said. 

You know about that ? You asked in confusion. 

Here’s the thing about Dad, Hailie said with a grin. He believes he’s not letting on, but he sucks at hiding anything from us. 

Doesn’t help that he doesn’t know how to lock his phone, Stevie giggled. 

So you… snooped ? 

Believe me, if you’d seen him, you’d have done the same thing, Hailie sighed. At some point, I was scared that he would relapse or something. So I checked his phone to make sure he didn’t have a drug dealer. That’s how I saw your texts. So I told my sisters. 

And as time went on and he wasn’t doing better, we decided to help  the two of you get back together, Alaina said. 

Was it that bad ? You asked in a worried voice. 

He’s a bit better now, Alaina said reassuringly. Touring helps getting his mind off things. But yeah… He wasn’t doing too good. 

You nodded. You had no idea it was that bad. The thought of him being unhappy broke your heart. After all, on the rare occasions the two of you had talked, he seemed to be doing alright. But obviously, you weren’t there and his daughters knew best. 

I’m sorry he had to go through this, you said on the verge of tears. And you too. Do you think he will forgive me ? 

It’s not your fault, Alaina said. You’re the one who left but, from what I gather, you had your reasons and relationships end all the time. We wouldn’t have had you come all this way if we weren’t sure of what we were doing. No one’s mad at you. 

Well, I am, Hailie said sternly. But it’s not about Dad. So, yeah. 

And how about… you girls ? You asked Alaina and Stevie, whose stance you didn’t know about. 

I couldn’t care less, Stevie shrugged. I mean, it’s Dad, so it’s weird to think of him being with someone but I guess I’m glad he found someone who is actually willing to put up with him. Didn’t think it would happen, so… 

Steve ! Alaina giggled. But yeah, she’s not wrong. You know, Dad was single for so long, we were a bit worried. All we want is for him to be happy. 

Ok, you said shyly. 

It was reassuring to know that they didn’t hate you. Still, you were a bit unsure how you should navigate the situation. 

We have a few hours before the show. We can get you set in your hotel room and after, we can do some shopping and help you find an outfit if you don’t have one, Hailie offered. 

You looked at your outfit. It was nothing extravagant but you had made an effort to find clothes that fit you pretty well - which was a challenge since you had lost weight and your whole closet had become at least two sizes too big. You were wearing a casual short black dress, black tights, leather boots and the jacket Marshall had bought for you in New York. 

What’s wrong with my outfit ? You asked. I didn’t think I would need to dress up for an Eminem concert… 

Not the concert, Alaina giggled. For Dad’s birthday dinner, tomorrow night. Hailie told you, right ? 

Oh my God, I forgot, Hailie said. I’m so sorry ! I’ve been so busy with planning… So, basically, we’re just celebrating casually after the show tonight, dinner in his suite. But we’re staying and enjoying Amsterdam for a few days after, and tomorrow, we arranged for people to fly in and have dinner to celebrate Dad’s birthday as well as the album’s success. Porter is already here, obviously, but Talia and Jamal are coming too, Royce, Dre and Fifty as well. 

Are you sure I should be here tomorrow ? You asked, definitely nervous. I’m happy to just leave you guys to it, you know… 

Believe me, if I have to be there, so do you, Stevie chuckled. 

I’m definitely having the two of you sit next to each other, Hailie sighed. It’s Dad’s birthday, make an effort. Of course you should be here, Y/N. You’re his girlfriend. 

Not yet, you pointed out. We’re not even sure he wants me back. What if it goes wrong ? 

It won’t, Alaina said. Just relax. Look… I shouldn’t tell you, but I know for a fact that he made plans to fly to Paris after the tour. He wanted to see you. You’re just beating him to it. 

Ok, you said nervously. I’m sorry, I know I sound like a broken record, it’s just… I guess I’ll feel better when I see him. 

When you got to the hotel, they took you to the room that had been booked for you. Then, they convinced you to do some shopping. Apparently, the next night’s dinner was to be held in the hotel restaurant, which was five star. You were a bit nervous since it was your first time shopping in six months but they helped you find a nice outfit. 

Hours later, you were in the crowd, waiting for the show to start, nervously playing with your pendant, which had never left your neck. 

Is that Dad’s pendant ? Alaina asked. 

Yes, you said. He gave it to me when we first met, to wish me luck on my recovery journey. I never really took it off. 

For how long have you been sober ? 

Almost a year and a half now, you explained. It would have been longer but I relapsed a while ago. But Marshall… He helped me through it. And I’ve been sober ever since. I owe him everything. 

Even after the breakup ? She mused. 

Well, yeah… I mean, the only thing that kept me from using again and numbing the pain with pills was that I wouldn’t want him to be disappointed, you said earnestly. He changed my life. He is the reason why I got better and stuck to it. 

You guys are good for each other, she pointed out. 

I don’t know, you replied. But… If he lets me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be good enough for him. 

Taking you by surprise, she engulfed you into a big hug.

Thank you for coming, she whispered. And thank you for loving him like this. I know Hailie is mad at you, and Stevie is just grumpy to be without her boyfriend, but… We’re really thankful for you, you know ? 

You hugged her back and smiled as the show started. Suddenly, you understood what the big deal surrounding Eminem was. He was clearly born to perform and make music, he was literally oozing charisma. He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a simple black tee-shirt. Obviously, he didn’t need anything else to look good. You were literally unable to take your eyes off him. 

Now, he said on the mic, we’re gonna perform a very special song. It’s my favorite one on the album and I know you guys love it. I need someone for that. Please welcome the incredible Skylar Grey, Amsterdam !!! 

Everyone cheered as the singer stepped on stage and the first notes played. You knew what was coming : your song. Track 12. For three minutes and thirty seconds, the whole crowd sang along to the words of the most beautiful song ever written. It felt like they were singing it for you. You were flabbergasted and overcome with emotion : your mouth was wide open and tears were welling in your eyes. Hailie, Alaina and Stevie smiled at you, rubbing your shoulders. 

Marshall and Skylar performed a couple more songs together and the show came to an end, with the crowd singing happy birthday to Marshall, who was smiling. Seeing him on stage made you fall for him all over again. When the crowd started to vacate, the girls took you backstage and Porter immediately came to greet you, as well as a few other people you knew from the studio. 

We’re on a mission here, Hailie recalled. No one is supposed to see her before him. Where is he ? 

Showering in his dressing room, Porter said. Paul is searching for you girls. Something about guests for tomorrow… 

Can you take her while we sort this out ? She asked. 

He nodded and she gave you a pat on the shoulder. 

Breathe, she said. 

Ok. 

As Porter led you to the corridor, he made small talk. 

It’s great that you could make it, he said. We all miss you at the studio, you know ? 

I miss you guys too, you said with a smile. I had to go back because of some family stuff. 

Quit lying, he chuckled. Marshall told me about the two of you. 

Oh, you said, embarrassed to be caught in a lie. Who else knows ? 

I think I’m the only one, he shrugged. Paul had suspicions, though. Here we are. 

You were in front of a closed door and, suddenly, it became real : you were about to see Marshall after six months. You weren’t sure if you were about to faint or not. Before you got cold feet, Porter knocked on the door. No answer. 

Bro, it’s me, he said. I have a birthday surprise for you. 

Can this wait ? You heard Marshall’s voice say. I just got out the shower. 

No. Open the door now, his friend insisted. Someone is here for you.

I swear, if it’s that prostitute joke, I’ll kill you. 

Believe me, this one is out of my price range, Porter giggled. 

The door swung open and you were faced with a shirtless Marshall, looking at you in shock, his jaw almost on the floor. You were staring at each other but none of you said a word. 

I’ll leave you guys to it, Porter said with a wink. Happy birthday, man. 

Hey, you whispered. Happy birthday. 

[cancerian-woman]

Just saw ur last post abt Hope not having a powerful witch mother and you mentioned of she was biracial you would cast Bailey Bass as her (which I agree she would be such a good Hope) - and idk if you’ve seen iwtv but if Klaus had lived i’d imagine his relationship with Hope would be similar to Claudia (Baileys character) and Lestat (idk what the point of this ask is but yk) 😭

Do you mean the never ending tumultuous mother/daughter coded relationship for Lestat/Claudia? Or how Claudia becomes a mini Lestat in her own way thus being the consequences of his actions. I think the second right? Sorry if I’m wrong 💜

Hear me out. I think if Klaus lived, we’d have more of that S5 characterization in Hope very far removed from her legacies personality. Klaus would be her number one supporter in her wrongdoings or not-so-wrong since Hope was studying who Klaus was and following his footsteps lol. (Applies to Marcel too) Quoting my friend here @occulthours kidnapping your mother and blackmailing your father to come to you is a very Mikaelson move.

Klaus is a nightmare to just about everyone but he couldn’t even face Hope after she saw one of his many lil murderous tyrants I don’t he’d ever grow to be a real aggressor to Hope. While he snapped and “fought” with Marcel he never killed him or did anything damaging too long lol. Klaus is just twisted like that.

I do think if Hope felt like Klaus was being wrong she’d hold him accountable. Hope seemed more upset about the abandonment than Klaus ever being a “monster” yes it was confusing but all she wanted to do was talk about it and for him to be there. Hope was at her happiest in that season surrounded by her family at Freelin’s wedding. Babygirl ain’t give a fuck about what he did. Hope had her daddy and some champagne it was all good 😭(I’m laughing as type this.)

I understand why Hayley/Freya’s parenting of Hope consisted of making sure she stayed “good” or “calmer” ig..for her own safety. As we can see Hope was not doing well with staying the “good little Hope Marshall” and Klaus gave her the freedom to snap. My own headcanon is that Klaus/Marcel and Hope traveled the world at the end of s5. I think Hope would’ve loved that.