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callmewrinkles3 · 2 years ago

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All Too Well - DR3 x Fem!OC

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

Word Count: 12.3k

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

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

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

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

SUB: Resignation Letter

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Blake,

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

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

Kind regards,

Emma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t wait. Who’re you here with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got you something.”

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

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

“Yeah! She’s always pretty.”

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Back to the hotel?”

“You read my mind.”

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

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

“Night, Dan.”

“But I thought…”

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

“I thought we’d be sharing a room.”

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

“Not particularly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you there.”

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

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

“What’s this for?”

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

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

“Miss you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home.”

“Emmy…”

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

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

“Because I have to go back.”

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

“You want the truth, Dan? All of it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair. Love you, kiddo.”

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

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

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

“My Uber’s outside, I need to leave.”

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

“Yeah, sure.”

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

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

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

“He seems like a good guy.”

“He’s one of the best.”

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

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

Em, what’s this email about?

What’s going on?

Tell me you didn’t mean to send this

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

“See you then.”

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

It felt so, so wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny,

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

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

Emma

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

Blakey,

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

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

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

Thank you for everything.

Love,

Ems

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

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

Mike,

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

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

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

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

Love,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok. Go shower and head out.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Em? I’ve got my key, I’m coming in.”

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

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

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

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

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

Until he saw the boxes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you read any of what she wrote?”

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

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

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

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

“She told me to leave!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet. Please. Let me f—“

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

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

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

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black-amortentia · 1 year ago

Text

Under the Mistletoe with Remus

Professor Lupin x Professor!Reader

Christmas was in the air, and the preferred way of older students to celebrate was snogging under mistletoe. Teachers took points and handed out detentions when things got too heated, but you were much more lenient. As a newly appointed professor, and romantic at heart, you didn't want to interfere unless a couple was truly out of line.

This was how your classroom came to house a rather large and elaborate sprig of mistletoe. A safe haven for secret snogging, it hung just inside the doorway. You had long grown used to the sight of it, to the point you forgot it was there most of the time.

A knock on the open door drew your attention from the essays you were marking. You looked up to find the friendly Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher standing in your doorway. He seldom visited your classroom like this.

"Remus! Something you need?"

You stood up from your desk, stretching. You'd been at it for hours, with no end in sight.

Remus held up a book as he stepped through the doorway. "You left this in my office yesterday. Thought I might return it."

"Oh, thank you. I was wondering where that had gotten to." Funny, you were certain you had it in your hand when you left his office yesterday.

You visited Remus a lot lately. Subtle flirting was the nature of your growing relationship ever since the start of term. The two of you danced around whatever was forming between you, little touches, and affectionate words amounting to nothing outright.

Remus's fingers brushed yours as you took the book. Your cheeks grew pink at the contact.

Looking at him now, seeing the mistletoe hanging from the stone above him, thoughts of kissing him kept bubbling to the surface of your mind.

"Quite an impressive display." Remus thumbed at the mistletoe behind him, catching you looking at it.

"You can thank my students for that," you told him, laughing. "I made the mistake of letting slip that I think kissing under the mistletoe is a romantic tradition. They think it gives them a free pass."

Remus chuckled, glancing away. "Yes, well…"

"Something on your mind, Remus? You seem a little distracted today."

"Yes, there is something on my mind, actually." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You."

You faltered, setting the book on a nearby table. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He took a step closer, closing the distance between you.

"You're so beautiful, intelligent, kind…" He reached up to touch your face, fingers grazing your flushed cheek. "I have a hard time finding the right words."

You leaned towards his touch, closing your eyes at the sensation. "Those words sounded like a good start."

Remus's eyes locked on yours, your faces tilting closer. There was a pause just before your lips touched, the moment of anticipation hanging in the air.

Then Remus bent forward to kiss you.

His lips were soft and warm, mustache brushing against your skin with a whisper. You kissed him back softly, lips parting.

You'd thought about this moment, but the reality of Remus's lips on yours, surpassed every fantasy you've had.

He held the kiss, grasping at your waist to pull you closer. A hand ran up the back of your neck, cradling your head, fingers curling in your hair.

Your hands found his hips, your hold light and steadying. The kiss was sweet and tender and dizzying, and when Remus finally pulled away, you weren't sure which way was up.

Breathless, Remus touched his forehead to yours. "Then again, maybe words are overrated."

Remus's voice was soft, his breath ghosting over your cheeks.

You smiled up at him. "Maybe they are."

A noise in the hall startled you both, evicting you from the little world of your own you'd fallen into. Remus reluctantly let you go, stepping back.

You peered outside your classroom and into the hallway, finding two Hufflepuff girls, whispering and peeking around the corner. They were both in your class and fancied themselves a couple of matchmakers.

You folded your arms in front of your chest. "Miss Woodhouse? Miss Fairfax? Shouldn't you be packing for your holiday?"

Remus touched your shoulder as he moved past you into the hall. "We'll speak later?"

You answered him with a smile and a nod. The Hufflepuff girls erupted into giggles, looking pleased with themselves.

"Five points," you announced, and they fell silent. "To Hufflepuff. For getting into the Christmas spirit. Now, off with you."

The girls took off in another direction, while your eyes remained fixed on Remus. Feeling you staring, he threw you one more smile over his shoulder.

It was going to be a very happy Christmas.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x professor!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction

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https-florals · 2 years ago

Text

you said, baby, no attachments - r.c.

part one || part two

word count: 2k

summary: after a very stupid, very impulsive night with rafe, you make a lot of questionable decisions.

warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive!!! friends-with-benefits but without the friends, mentions of drinking, cursing, little angst, little fluff.

a/n: FIRST EVER RAFE FIC!!!!! i have such a massive crush on drew starkey and tbh i’m shocked ive waited this long to write my bae rafe. anywayssss if this doesnt flop lol there may or may not be a pt 2 im working on!!! my plan is for this to have four parts, but that could change and i might condense it. this is based on casual by chappell roan!!

Stupid things have good outcomes all the time. JJ lives by that phrase, and after hearing it for years, it’s rubbed off on you. But apparently, that’s not a good excuse in an argument with him, and here you are, palms sweaty and slipping off your bike handles, repeating the words over and over and over like you’re trying to convince yourself they’re true.

Today’s stupid thing? Responding to a text from none other than Rafe Cameron. Okay, that’s been your stupid thing for about a month.

You had a little thing going with Rafe. It started at a party, a drunk hookup, neither participant quite realizing who the other was until they woke up in bed together. You had practically run from Tannyhill like the house was on fire, only after both of you fought a little, fucked a little more, and then promised never to speak of it again. You had thought that this pact also entailed speaking to each other, but about a week later Rafe caught you at work, smiled at you, and hit you with some stupid line you couldn’t quite remember. Something about being the prettiest girl in the room, which wasn’t exactly hard, considering you were indeed the only girl in the room as you worked the counter at the country club’s pro shop. When he slipped back his signed receipt to you, there were 10 digits scrawled across the bottom below his signature.

“Rafe, what is this?” you had to ask, tone a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

He shrugged, and attempted to grab his bag and run out, but you slid the fancy paper bag away from him. “I thought that we said we weren’t gonna talk to each other anymore,” you had stated softly, smiling at the way his cheeks tinted a little pink.

“Nah, I said I didn’t wanna talk about it,” he stressed, “But talking to you is way different.”

You just rolled your eyes and pushed the bag back to him, and he waved you goodbye as he left.

You can count on one hand all the interactions you’ve had with that boy, and that had to be the oddest. Well, maybe not as odd as having sex with him.

A week passed before you texted him. It wasn’t for anything really important, a scolding, if anything. All you did was remind him that again, he can’t just randomly take his shirt off while golfing. It’s a sophisticated establishment, the old ladies complain, blah, blah, blah. His response?

rafe c. - so you’re saying i distract you?

Yes, unfortunately, that is exactly what you’re saying.

The situations just get weirder, when the first time the two of you hang out is when you call him for a ride to the grocery store. No one’s at the Chateau, you’re out of gas, and every form of transportation you could possibly steal for a bit is with their respective owners. You doubt you could’ve balanced on JJ’s bike anyways.

The ride is a little awkward, but by the end you feel.. Comfortable. At peace, almost, in the Kook prince’s passenger seat with his hand ghosting over your knee. In the grocery store, it’s painfully obvious Rafe has never been shopping for food in The Cut. He’s wrinkling his nose at the cheap prepackaged salmon you buy, with generic bread crumbs. But then he helps you comb through the bell peppers to find decent ones, and carries your groceries to his truck. He even lets you play whatever you want over the aux.

You’re waking up with him in your bed the next morning, pushing him out the window so no one sees him.

And that’s how it starts, and how it continues- brief text convos, long hangouts, good sex and fake nonchalance. He stays true to what he said, and you don’t talk about it. To anybody. That was the whole thing- it was understood that it was a secret. No strings attached, forbidden kind of kook and pogue relations that would have your friends livid.

So why are you so nervous on this particular evening? Maybe it’s because Rafe let it slip to Sarah that you’re hooking up. Maybe cause Sarah just had to say something to John B, who then told JJ, who then fought with you in front of the entire group. Everyone knows, and everyone is telling you you’re crazy. It’s not something you can handle, so when you see that Rafe asked you to come over, you’re hopping on your bike and speeding to Tannyhill.

When you get there, you automatically rush into Rafe’s room, a sweaty mess.

He’s laying on his bed, in just boxers as he scrolls on his phone. He jumps when you walk in, setting his phone down quick and standing up like you’re the queen or something.

Your gaze tracks to a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues on his nightstand, and you groan and fake gag as you flop facedown onto the mattress.

There’s an almost soundless little intake of air, but you do hear it, and cut Rafe off before he can even speak.

“I’m not helping you get off!” you declare loudly, and the boy visibly deflates.

“Come on,” he whines, like a little kid not getting his way. “You came in at the perfect time.”

You roll over so he’s in your peripheral vision, and huff. “I’m mad at you.”

He sticks his bottom lip out, a little mocking as he crawls onto the bed beside you. “Awe, what’d I do now?” Rafe lays on his side, head propped up on his hand as he watches you. He likes to watch the way his lamp reflects in your eyes, and how you roll your eyes everytime you catch him staring at you. His fingers creep up your side, but you push him off. Oh. You really are mad, he thinks.

“Why would you tell Sarah?” you ask, voice quiet as you stare him down. The apples of his cheeks turn a little pink, and his eyes widen.

“Uh, what did I tell her?” Rafe lies, because he remembers exactly what he said to Sarah, and the way her jaw dropped after he spoke.

“I just- I really like her, Sarah. Forget about the sex and all that shit. When I’m talking to her, it feels like…” He’s stumbling over his words, not quite able to say what he wants. “She’s fresh air, and I feel like I’ve been stuck in a room without windows, or some shit.”

He was never much of a poet. He also remembers the vise-like grip she had on his arm as she told him she would kill him if he ever hurt you. Rafe promised he could never.

But right now he lies, lies and tries to level his voice. He’s a little shocked that you believe him, or at least don’t press the topic further.

“You told her we were sleeping together!” You hiss, lightly smacking him on the side of his head.

He winces, but internally he’s heaving a sigh of relief. He makes a mental note to never get drunk with his sister ever again as you continue to rant. It’s something about the Pogues wanting to kill him (nothing new), along with a couple of jabs about how he’s just the worst, and that he's annoying, and blah, blah, blah. Rafe isn’t really listening, rather just thinking about his stupid decisions. One of which is looking real pretty as she yells at him. Pretty enough to fall in love with. He absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear and you instantly exhale, losing your train of thought altogether in record time. It’s like you have the attention span of a damn goldfish around him.

You just groan again, and murmur, “I can’t stand you,” right before you press your lips to his.

Rafe laughs against you, pulling you on top of him in one smooth motion. “Good thing you’re sitting on top of me then.”

His hands slip under your shirt, and your fingers push through his hair. The calluses on his hands scrape against the soft skin of your stomach and catch on the lace of your bra. Hard hands for daddy’s money, you think. Your fingers tuck against his jawline, cradling his face while his tongue slips against yours, his lips curling up when you make any little noise.

You pull back to catch your breath, and Rafe just stares up at you, kind of punchdrunk.

“Rafe?”

“Mhm?” He reaches up to brush his thumb over your lips.

You’re silent for a second as you think about what you’re about to say. ‘What- What are we doing?”

Rafe’s mouth is parted, and you can’t quite decipher his expression as you watch his eyes flick over your face. He swallows, and says, “Whatever you want.”

You don’t really hear him, and blurt out, “I need this to be casual.”

“Casual?” he repeats.

“Strictly like, sex. No strings attached.”

He sits up, pulling you with him so you’re still on his lap but he’s eye level to you. He’s hard underneath you, but you ignore it as you continue to speak.

“Okay, just sex. Why?”

It’s actually very hard to ignore, literally and figuratively. Rafe is thinking the same thing when you clear your throat and move a little on him, subconsciously.

You shrug. “Listen, I don’t have the time for anything more than that. Plus, we know we couldn’t date, like ever.”

He nods, fake-stretching as a means to buck up against you. “And why couldn’t we date?” When you give him an incredulous look, he continues, “Just to play devil’s advocate. Not that I don’t agree with you, cause I totally do. I just wanna know what you’re like, thinking, if we’re on the same wavelength, or whatever…” He trails off, knowing he’s babbling and should stop.

You laugh a little nervously. “Okay, Cameron.” You take a deep breath, and hope that what you’re about to say makes sense. “I have an itch to scratch, and the only thing I want to do is scratch that itch.” You pause to think. “Itch that scratch?”

“You had it right the first time,” Rafe laughs, but the lilt of it is a little annoyed.

“Okay, whatever. Anyway, you’re good at scratching that itch.”

He grins with pride, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and just the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm.

“Really good at scratching that itch,” you exhale a little shaky. “But y’know, I don’t really like you as a person.”

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “The fuck? Thanks a lot.”

“You’re an asshole, Rafe. Plain and simple. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but come on.” You’re thinking of all the times he’s been an absolute dick to your friends.

He’s thinking about all the things he’d lay down for you. “Not to you.”

Your words evidently sting him a bit, and you go red. You hadn’t really meant to hurt him.

You groan. “You know what I mean. My friends hate you. We just couldn’t work.”

Rafe doesn’t really know what to say. This isn’t really the way he thought this would go, but then again, what did he really expect? Everything is jumbled in his head, and all he wants to do is get high and forget about the conversation. But, even though you basically just told him that he's unlikable, you’re still regrettably pretty, and still on top of him. He grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he rolls against you. “So fuck buddies, but we can’t stand each other?” One hand snakes underneath your shirt to unclip your bra, and he does it faster than you can blink.

“Exactly,” you say somewhere in between both of your shirts coming off. “Just stress relief.”

His hands are hot all over you. There’s a hardness in his gaze that’s so different from the softness of his touch.

“We have to have rules,” you manage to state when you’re shimmying out of your shorts, breathing hard while Rafe toys with the little pink bow on your panties.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.”

It’s a filler phrase, you think. He must desperate for you to shut up and fuck him, so he’s saying anything.

He’s still thinking about how he’d do anything for you. Anything.

You still for a second to catch your breath, and say, “No feelings. No staying overnight. And we can’t go anywhere together that we would be seen.”

“Why not?” Rafe groans as your clothed heat slips over him.

“Rafe! People will talk. They’ll think…”

He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. “That we’re fucking? Well, hate to break it to ya, baby, but we kinda already are.”

“And no calling me baby.”

Rafe ignores you and slips his hand between your legs, and you forget that you’re supposed to hate him.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx2 #obx fic #obx netflix

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

Note

I just thought what type of personality is thier child like and what type of dad they are.

Example: Daniel's child will be a chubby child like he is, probably shy and cute child. Daniel would be a dad that give confident to his child so they won't exprience hardship like and also both of them will have a shenanigans of eating in the middle of the night.

Gun's child would be mini Gun but doesn't look for fight like his dad. You can say the child is more of gentleman than Gun tendency. The child probably be like "Mom, How and why did you marry dad" Points at thier father who is rampaging in fight.

Thanks for the ask Sam and sorry it's taken so long 😭

Agree with your HC altho I wonder if Daniel might swing too much the other way being a health nut (after all the bullying and Lookism) and you would have to help him find a happy medium??

Lookism Boys as dads + what their kid is like

Wow that's a mouthful. HC for Jake Kim, Samuel Seo, Warren Chae, Goo Kim, Ryuhei Kuroda, Eugene, Vasco, Zack Lee, Johan Seong

General HC

Most would take after their dad and be at least adept with fighting

Unless specified they would turn out pretty ok. We all know the flaws these men have (except Jake he can do no wrong 🙏) so the coparent needs to balance that out

Jake and Samuels kids would be bff, much to chagrin of Samuel lol. He ends up seeing Jake far too much for his liking but his kid is happy so what can he do

Warren's kid and Yenna bff. Duh

Goo's and Ryuhei's hate each other at first. Always getting each other into trouble. Until. Wow, think of the chaos we can cause TOGETHER

Gun's kid IMO would probably get on with someone like Eugene's. But would be hilarious if they got swept into the Vasco/Zack/Johan dynamic

Eugene's is a bit of a loner. All the fancy upbringing means they have connections and networks rather than close friends 😔

Vasco's, Zack's and Johan's would be like siblings. Constantly pick on and insult each other. They're allowed to. But if someone joins in - WTF DID YOU JUST SAY?? YOU WANNA FIGHT?

Jake Kim

As a dad

Listen. I don't know whether my levels of delusion are way off with this man but he can do no wrong. He would be the best dad, best househusband. He would be harsh but fair and sooo much fun. Unfortunately your kid would be spoilt rotten with all the Big Deal Uncles and Auntie.

The kid

Like father like son/daughter. Absolute unwavering sense of right and wrong, maybe sometimes not too understanding of the shades of grey. A confident kid and heartbreaker - not purposely tho but their rizz will be off the charts like their dad. Of course a natural born leader. That runs in the family too.

Warren Chae

As a dad

Oof. If you thought he was protective over Sally then you have another thing coming. Needs a bit of talking around to give them their freedom and experiences. Apart from that you really can't complain. Warren has an infinite amount of patience. Also reads to them all the time to stop himself missing out words.

The kid

The cutest kind-hearted little soul! Would just be so nice and sweet! Super well adjusted and surrounded by loving adults (Hostel), and also Grandpa Manager Kim. Yknow the kids who are also constantly dirty? Like constant speck of dirt on their face? Yeah also that.

Samuel Seo

As a dad

It might be better if you're a single parent because he is gonna pass on some gnarly generational trauma. Your child will either end up like a mini-Samuel or fingers crossed there will be shitloads of therapy (for daddy and child).

The kid

Strives for perfection, and super ambitious. There's no avoiding some traits. Another natural leader, but rules less with an iron first than Sammy. Would be vain af, and looks after their appearance a LOT. A bit shallow and judgemental but will eventually grow out of it.

Goo Kim

As a dad

Shrewd af and always knows what's going on. Good luck to their kid because there is no lying to Goo. He'll play along and then drop the hammer. However, a bit too lenient so you would have to be the disciplinarian. Lets the kid just get on with things and learn by experience. "Oh you wanna play with the sword? Have fun!" "GOO NO-!"

The kid

Little shit. Sorry there's just no way they wouldn't be a mouthy little asshole. Goo would make sure they respect the parents, but otherwise they are a danger to society. A troublemaker. Figures out all the loopholes to any rules and laws... A constant headache but you can't help but be impressed.

Gun Park

As a dad

Does a lot of research before their kid is born. This guy is pretty thorough with things he is interested in, so if he's taking an active part in the kid's life then he will be meticiulous. Initially. Then, like Goo, will let their kid make their own mistakes. Otherwise, very hands on, doesn't believe in outdated parental roles. After all, this is Gun's ultimate masterpiece.

The kid

Christ. This kid could be the most intimidating child to have ever lived. Not as intense as their dad, but they are playing 5D chess while everyone else is just learning their shapes and numbers. They're cocky and confident, with the skills to back it up.

Ryuhei Kuroda

As a dad

Extremely similar to Goo imo. Would also love to embarrass the kid. Not purposely mind, just he can't keep his hands off or kissing you and no kid needs to see their parents so grossly in love.

The kid

An absolute menace, just like their dad. Huge prankster, mostly harmless. Don't get them together with Goo's kid because jfc they would be absolute terrors together. Unlike their dad in his youth, they would respect the shit out of women. You've seen to that.

Eugene

As a dad

Probably a little cold and severe, putting a bit too much emphasis on grades and perfection. Despite that, would actually be pretty good. Someone that reads up a lot on how to raise a kid, bonding with them etc etc. to form a somewhat healthy relationship.

The kid

Private school little wunderkind. Will grow up with the absolute best of everything and spoilt too so you would need to keep them grounded. Expected to take over Workers. Business acument and ambition will be drilled into them from an early age.

Vasco

As a dad

What is there to say about Tabasco that we don't already know. Would dote on them hand and foot. An absolute pushover! Their kid pulls out the puppy eyes and it's game over. Would teach them to protect themselves but probably draw the line at anything more.

The kid

Really creative? Vasco would place less emphasis on grades and would help to nurture their interest in the arts. But actually super smart too thanks to Uncle Jace's influence. Tbh I think the kid would be pretty perfect and with the kindest heart and stands up to bullies just like dad!

Zack Lee

As a dad

So so similar to Vasco. Has all these ideas on what they should and shouldn't do as a parent. Kid pops out, and Zack's a goner. Literally would do anything and everything for their child. Go absolutely crazy with pride if the kid is interested in boxing.

The kid

Would have no game... Like dad. Sorry. Good job they would be good looking af to even it out. Not a huge emphasis on education and grades thanks to Zack's influence. More focused on athletics. A little shallow and arrogant, but a huge softy underneath.

Johan Seong

As a dad

Panic and anxiety from the day their kid was born and every day after. First because of worrying about their eyes, second because he's just not comfortable with having an actual dependent. Tries to teach them about the evils of the world. Eventually chills out overall and reverts back to being the gentle-hearted boy he used to be.

The kid

For practical reasons, taught braille from an early age just in case. But otherwise a mini-Johan but without the trauma. Very softly spoken and sweet. Just an absolute ray of sunshine. Always accompanied by their dog, their bff and partner when a fight arises.

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darksigns-exe · 3 months ago

Text

it's just you and me now - nicholas ruffilo x jolly karlsson

warnings: swearing, anal sex (m receiving), a lot of feelings

word count: 3.2k

masterlist | Part 1 | taglist sign-up

They’ve been home for almost three days and Nick still hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her. It doesn’t help that they’ve been texting basically non-stop.

He doesn’t know why it’s so different this time. He’s sure that it wasn’t jealousy - maybe it is in a weirdly twisted way because he never wanted to get involved with it as much as that night.

Nick had very quickly figured out that he liked to watch Jolly with other people, but that he didn't necessarily need to get involved. He’s more than fine with watching Jolly. And then they’d picked her up, and now everything feels different. Nick doesn’t quite know what this is going to be. All he knows is that he feels his chest warm just a little bit when her name pops up on the screen of his phone.

He’s kept himself busy working on his art, trying his hardest to avoid the conversation they should probably have. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have it, or that he’s afraid of it. It’s rather that he knows that it’ll change things, and Nick isn’t sure that he could deal with that kind of change. The fear that it this could bring the end of them lingers somewhere in the back of his mind, no matter how genuinely irrational it is.

He successfully manages to hide away in his little office for another hour, before a knock sounds on the door. Nick can’t bring himself to reply. Another knock.

“Nick?” he hears Jolly ask from the other side of the door, “Can I come in, darling?”

The pet name always makes him shudder a little.

“Door’s open.”

Jolly pushes into the room, a steaming cup of something in hand.

“Thought you might want a coffee?” He places the cup on the desk in front of him, before he places his hands firmly on Nick’s shoulders, “What’re you working on?”

He’d been smart enough to slam his sketchbook shut before Jolly had entered. Nick doesn’t need to know that the visual of him hovering over their pretty little bed guest had burned itself into his mind.

“Nothing important.” he replies quickly, fully knowing that Jolly won’t let it go that easily.

“Everything you do is important.” Jolly presses a kiss to his cheek, “I won’t force you, though.”

Nick feels his arms slide down, as Jolly leans on top of him a little more comfortably. The weight of him settles the anxious mess of nerves in his belly a little bit.

“Are you still going back to Noah’s later?” Nick asks, hoping that he’ll say no.

“Already been. You’ve been hiding away in here all day, Nick. It’s almost four.”

He’s suddenly so very aware of the ache in his back, the oncoming cramp in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed.

“Alright.” Jolly tightens his grip around him a little more, “Enough work for you. You’re coming with me.”

Another kiss is pressed to his cheek. Jolly detaches himself from him. Nick knows that he can’t worm his way out of this, and so he shuts down the computer. He doesn’t know why he’s so hesitant to let Jolly see what he’s been working on.

Jolly waits patiently for him, wraps his arm around his middle when Nick tries to pass him.

“Do you want to go out for dinner? We haven’t been on a real date in ages.” Jolly says as he walks him into the kitchen.

They’ve gone out, sure, but it’s been a while since one of their outings was actually marketed as a date.

“Doesn’t have to be fancy, either. We can just go to the Italian around the corner?”

It’ll be nice to get out of the house for a couple of hours.

They’d found this particular restaurant not long after they’d moved here. A cosy little spot just down the street from the apartment.

Things had somehow just fallen into place. The romantic side of their relationship had always felt like a natural progression. And the decision to find a place to share had been easy. Finding a good place on the other hand had been a struggle.

In the end, Nick thinks that he couldn’t have made a better choice. It’s a comparatively small neighbourhood, a good thirty minutes from where Noah lives. They have their regular places where people know their names, their orders, and really that’s all he could ask for.

They’re not even through the door when they’re asked if they want their usual orders. Jolly leads the way to their favourite little spot. A seat in a quiet corner, perfect for long talks. It’s nice to have time for each other like this.

“How was the studio?” Nick asks, while they wait for their orders.

“Good. We got everything on the plan done.” It’s a surprisingly curt answer, “You wanna tell me what’s been eating at you? You’ve been quiet since we got

back.” Jolly’s hand finds its way on top of his, all warm and comforting, “I know we haven’t had a lot of time to talk about all of that.”

Nick turns their joined hands over so that he can entangle their fingers. Jolly lets him manipulate their hands to his heart's content. At least for a while.

“Nick?” he finally asks, “You know that you can tell me everything, right? I just need you to talk to me.”

He’s silent for a moment longer, before he finds the courage to will the words past his lips.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Her?”

“That entire night.”

Jolly nods in a familiarly solemn way, “She was different. It didn’t feel like the other times. Not just because you joined us.”

“You just looked so good together. I couldn’t help myself.” Nick feels himself smile around the words.

“Is that the only reason you came over? Nick, I know you. You never get involved with it, it’s okay if it made you feel —”

“I’m not jealous.” He snaps before Jolly gets a chance to say it.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that.” Jolly replies calmly, “All I was going to say is that it’s fine if it made you feel different this time. Even if that’s jealous. You’ll always be my number one.”

Nick doesn’t think that it’s jealousy in the traditional sense. It’s more akin to regret. He wishes that he’d allowed himself to join them sooner. At the same time, Jolly seemed to enjoy his time with her alone just fine. Nick knows that he’s the one who said that he’d be fine with just watching. He hadn’t really expected that he’d ever change his mind on that.

“I can’t read your thoughts, darling. You’ll have to say what’s on your mind if you want me to do something about it.”

“When you said she felt different. Did she — was it better than —”

A wave of sudden realisation that washes over Jolly’s face, “Oh god no. I know this all went different from how it normally does, but that doesn’t change anything about us. Whatever we do with her going forward is a decision we make together. If you don’t feel comfortable with it, it doesn’t have to happen again. No hard feelings extends to us too. I want you to feel good about this. If you can’t in good conscience say that you want us to meet her again, we don’t have to.”

Nick doesn’t get to say much more as the waiter arrives with their orders, and really he doesn’t need everyone to know that he likes to watch his boyfriend fuck other people from time to time.

He mulls over the whole thing while they eat. Tries to figure out how he can adequately express that he wants to see her again and that his misplaced jealousy doesn’t come from them doing this, but rather from him not getting to feel as much of her as he had wanted.

Their little date had turned into a little stroll around the neighbourhood, into a few drinks with friends, and when they fall back through the door it’s almost ten. He’s tired, but not so tired that he doesn’t feel a little restless.

He can’t wipe the image of them from his mind, and he needs something else to replace it with. Something that’ll take his mind off it entirely.

Nick finds Jolly in the kitchen, typing away at his phone. He contemplates his approach for a moment before deciding to unceremoniously drape himself over the other's back.

“I’ll be with you in a moment. Just let me text Ma-”

“No.”

Jolly stops abruptly, thumbs hovering over the screen, “No?”

“Now.”

He places his phone on the counter, stands still for a breath before he turns around to face Nick.

“Demanding. Alright.” His hands find their way to the sides of Nick’s face, “What do you need from me? Talk to me, my love.”

“I think I just need to know that I’m yours.” Nick admits, sounding a little more meek than he’d hoped.

Jolly pulls him in for a kiss, all soft and gentle.

“You’re always mine. But I’ll gladly give you a reminder.” His voice is so soft, so tender.

Nick loves when he sounds likes that. That tone always sinks into the cracks of his mind. It settles in between the parts of him that doubt and binds them back together. Jolly has always been good at solving his issues. He picked up on Nick’s insecurities early on and did whatever he could to diminish them. Nick knows that he can’t rely on him to solve all of his problems, but when Jolly tends to him like that, he swears that all of his troubles disappear.

Jolly guides him into their bedroom, hands still interlinked.

Nick sinks down on the mattress, Jolly towering in front of him. He’s captured in another searing kiss. He shifts further up the bed, Jolly chasing after him so that they won’t be apart for long. The weight of his body is comforting against Nicks. He’s warm and broad and when he slots himself between Nick’s thighs like this, he couldn’t ask for more. Jolly shoves his t-shirt upwards somewhat unceremoniously. As soon as his skin is bared, the others hands drift up his sides. Lips soon find his neck, and he gasps when Jolly leaves his first mark on his skin.

He feels dizzy with it already.

Nick sighs when the tip of his tongue flicks across his nipple.

“You always sound so pretty for me.” He hears Jolly say, but the words feel warped and distorted by the time they reach his ears.

Between his hands and lips, Nick doesn’t know what he’s supposed to focus on first. He settles on the way his fingers feel so light and tender when they descend towards the waistband of his jeans. He squirms when Jolly’s fingers brush along his sides.

Another bruise is sucked into the skin just below his ribs. Nick can’t possibly keep his eyes open when Jolly treats him so well.

“Lift your hips for me, love.”

He follows quickly and allows Jolly to remove the garments from his body. Nick sighs when he feels his hands drift along his thighs, down his calves. The attention Jolly gives him is unlike anything he’s experienced before. It’s almost overwhelming at times.

“Get comfortable for me, I’ll be right back with you.”

Jolly places a barely there kiss against his cheek, before he pulls away and begins to strip his own clothes down. Nick watches as he moves across the room, gathering a few things, before he’s back in front of him.

Jolly lowers himself across his body, and Nick feels the room dim behind him. His vision narrows down on the man in front of him. He’s not sure that he’ll ever get used to this.

Nick feels one of Jolly’s large hands skating across the inside of his thigh again. Jolly makes space for himself here.

“You wanna get on your knees for me, love?”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice. When he sits up to move, Jolly pulls him in for a quick kiss. Hands cover his hips, adjusting his position until he’s exactly where Jolly wants him.

“Gonna be cold for a second.” he warns, before he feels a lube slicked finger brush against him.

He’s somewhat used to this by now, but the first push of his thick finger still makes him shiver. He whines at the feeling, the stretch of it. Jolly always takes his time with him, always makes sure that he’s sufficiently prepared for the next step. It’s still a lot. Especially tonight. Nick knows that he won’t last long, but he also knows that Jolly won’t stop until he’s reduced to a whining mess.

By the time Jolly works a second finger into him, Nick is unable to hold himself up and lets his body sag against the pillow. He whines so unashamed when Jolly’s fingers curl into him just right.

“You should see yourself.” Jolly says, sounding almost a little cruel, “You’re a mess already, and we’ve barely started. Looks like you really need this, huh?”

Nick only gives a whine of his name in reply, already struggling to keep his composure up.

“I want you to cum like this first. Can you do that for me, love?”

Nick tries to turn his head so that he can catch a glimpse of him, “Yes. Please.”

“Do you need more than this, or are my fingers enough?”

“More — I need more.”

Without further question, Jolly’s hand leaves his waist and wraps around his already leaking cock. The touch is too light, too gentle for what he really needs, but he can’t bring himself to be bratty about it tonight. Jolly knows how to switch his brain off entirely, and he’ll trust him with this, even if it means that he won’t get what he wants immediately. It really doesn’t take much for him to spill his release on to the duvet below. He curses when it hits him. The warmth that blooms through him is so very comforting.

The hand around his cock disappears all too soon, and he barely registers Jolly humming contently behind him. Nick winces, shifts uncomfortably when Jolly goes to remove his fingers from him again.

“I know.” he soothes, “It’s a lot — fuck I love how sensitive you are. Do you need a moment?”

Nick shifts his hips back against him, trying to get back into contact.

“Don’t stop.” he whines, feeling not an ounce of shame for the desperation in his voice, “Please don’t stop.”

A gentle kiss is pressed to his shoulder, before Jolly adjusts his position behind him. Despite what comes next, Jolly is always so gentle and careful with him when he presses inside. He takes his time, reacting to the sounds Nick makes and stilling when he feels him tense around his cock. He pauses for a moment when his waist presses against Nick’s backside.

The hand on his waist drifts along his back and over his shoulder. For now, it remains there, as Jolly begins his slow and steady rhythm. Every thrust into him unravels a little more of that knot in his tummy.

“God you feel so fucking good.” Jolly groans above him, “You’re always so good for me.”

His pace picks up rather quickly. The harsh thrusts push Nick further into the pillows. The constant stream of whines that falls from his lips is muffled by the fabric below. Jolly’s hand grips into his waist, pulling back against him over and over again. It’s all so much.

“I’m the only one who gets to have you like this.” Jolly sounds a little worn down already, but that commanding edge is this so very present, “You love being all mine, don’t you?”

Nick can only whine in response, unable to find the right words. He feels spread thin in the best way possible. The ends of his nerves feel frayed and raw. Every thrust Jolly gives into him sends him closer and closer to the edge. It’s dizzying. Above him, Jolly continues to whisper the sweetest filth to him. The words wrap around his mind, unravelling whatever bit of anxiety still had a grip on him. Nick feels himself falling apart faster than he had hoped. His release hits him before he’s really ready for it again. The desperate whines that fall from his lips rise in pitch and frequency as Jolly works him through his orgasm. Just when Nick thinks that he can’t take more of it, he feels Jolly spill inside of him. He rests himself against Nick’s back, his chest warm and heaving as he rides out the final waves of his own climax. Warm breath spills against the side of Nick’s neck, before he feels lips pressing against his skin.

“You’ll always be mine, Nick. Always. Nothing and no one can change that.” another kiss, nearer to the edge of his jaw this time, “I love you.”

Nick barely manages to return the words, still feeling so utterly breathless.

After an indulgently long shower, Nick finds himself curled up in front of Jolly. The comforting weight of his arm around his middle soothes the last shreds of worry. He knows that Jolly would never leave him for someone else just like that, and by now he isn’t even sure that that was what he had actually agonised over.

Since they had left the hotel that morning, Nick had wondered what her hands would feel like on his body, how she would feel around him. He’d always gravitated more towards men, but he can’t deny that she’d wrapped herself around his mind entirely after just one night. And he hadn’t even been involved with the goings-on. He can’t imagine what it’d be like if he actually gets to feel her touch on his skin.

“We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” Jolly asks quietly, “Try to get some sleep.”

Nick turns the thought over in his head a few times. He isn’t entirely sure how he’s supposed to breach that conversation. It feels impossibly big, and he knows that it’ll change so much about them.

He decides that he’ll leave the page from his sketchbook in a place where Jolly is guaranteed to find it within the next few minutes. And he’s barely back in his little office when he hears Jolly approaching. He doesn’t knock this time and instead pushes into the room, thought the ajar door.

“So that’s what it looked like from your angle?” Jolly asks, and Nick doesn’t have to turn around to know that he has that amused smile plastered across his face.

“I told you that it looked good.” Nick finds himself sounding awfully quiet.

Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Jolly come towards him. He squats down next to Nick’s chair.

“Look at me, will you?” there’s a trace of concern in his voice that stings just a little bit, “Nick, you know that it’s okay if it affected you, right? It’s perfectly fine if you’re curious about her. Just because it hasn’t happened before doesn’t mean that it’s not okay.”

“I just can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I know. I don’t know what it is about that one either.” Jolly takes Nick’s hands into his, “We’ll figure this out too. This doesn’t have to become anything at all. It can just be a once in a while thing, if that’s what we all want. Whatever it ends up being, we’ll be just fine.” Nick’s hands flex around Jolly’s, “Promise?”

Jolly presses a gentle kiss to the back of his hands, “Promise.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken

#bad omens fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo x jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo fic #jolly karlsson fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo smut #jolly karlsson smut

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junkissed · 2 years ago

Text

not so holy night

member — teacher!jihoon x teacher!reader genre — smut with plot, a teeny bit of drama (barely any), lots of fluff at the end word count — 6.9k warnings — reader has a vagina and breasts, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), grinding, fingering, cumshot, some begging, please lmk if i missed any warnings! notes — this is the sequel to "not so silent night", which is posted on my sfw blog @junkissed! i would recommend reading part 1 first, since there's quite a bit of plot in this one! dedicated to @onlymingyus because she was going to murder me for that cliffhanger in part 1 hehe. so voila here is part 2! enjoy :) fyi i only read this like once bc i really wanted to post it tonight so if there's mistakes look away

this work contains nsfw content. minors dni or you will be blocked.

drinks and dinner. dinner and drinks. that’s all that’s going to happen tonight. why are you so nervous?

when saturday finally rolls around, you stand in front of your bathroom mirror an hour before jihoon is supposed to pick you up, scrutinizing your outfit choice. the holiday staff party is always hosted at a fancy restaurant downtown, the whole place rented out for all the teachers and administrators for dinner, with music and mingling afterwards.

in the four years you’ve been a teacher at the middle school, this is the first year you’re actually going to bring a date.

is it a date? is it friends? is it coworkers? you think it’s a date; after all, you did get coffee before school with jihoon twice this week. it could be a friend thing, but the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re distracted makes you think otherwise.

it’s going to be a long night, you already know. nothing like the little half-hour meetups for coffee or eating lunch together in the back corner of the teacher’s lounge. a solid two, three hours for the dinner alone, not to mention the drinks you’re getting with him beforehand and however long you’ll end up staying afterwards.

you’re mentally counting the time and figuring out when you might get home so you can put on your ratty pajamas and nurse your inevitable wine headache as you reflect on the evening. god, when did dating get so exhausting?

you twist in the mirror, checking out the way your ass looks in the dress. not bad. is it too forward of you to have put on your nice lingerie underneath, “just in case”? probably, but it’s not like you get an opportunity like this every day. if you’ve understood correctly, jihoon’s stuck in the same boat you are: painfully single, and not getting any younger.

and your mind starts to wander when out of nowhere your mind brings up a mental image of his long, slender fingers, and you can’t help but think about jihoon’s hands sliding up your legs and parting your folds, adding one finger, then another, then a third until you’re crying his name in relief, and–

jesus, it’s been way too long since you’ve gotten laid.

but even with just the passing thought of him, the nervous butterflies in your stomach travel lower, and you’re trying to will yourself to stop thinking about him before you ruin your only cute pair of panties.

you flick the bathroom lightswitch off and head to the living room to put something on tv, anything to clear your mind.

eventually your thoughts subside, and before you know it your doorbell is ringing and you’re scrambling to turn off the tv and make sure everything on your coffee table looks like it was put there intentionally and that you haven’t been anxiously adjusting it for the past hour.

you take a deep breath and turn the doorknob, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the man standing outside your door.

it almost feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you look at him. the sleek grey suitjacket that’s tailored perfectly around the broad shoulders you never noticed before (how the fuck did you not notice that before?). the too-tight white button down that frames the muscles in his chest. the way the cuffs of his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, exposing forearms that are so toned, they look like they could deadlift a piano.

you don’t know who this man is, but he’s definitely not the shy mr. lee you’re used to seeing across the hall every day.

for some reason he seems to be equally taken aback by your outfit, which you honestly can’t understand why he would be, when he himself looks like that. but with the way he’s eyeing you up and down like he has to physically hold himself back from pouncing on you, suddenly this night just got a whole lot more exciting.

“hi,” you manage, still unable to take your eyes off of him. “you, uh… you look really good.”

it’s like he doesn’t even hear your compliment, he’s so focused on you. “i’ve, um– you–” he exhales sharply. “wow.”

you blink a few times, trying to clear your head of the barrage of dirty thoughts swirling around and get yourself back on track. “so. drinks?”

his eyes dart up to your face, seeming like he’s snapped out of it. “yes! yes. my friend owns a bar near the restaurant, so i thought it might be fun to start there.” he clears his throat, muttering under his breath. “although now, i think i have better things to do.”

you smile and nod, pretending you didn’t hear him, but oh my god you heard him and oh my god you’re not gonna last long tonight. you’d hate to bail on your date, but if things keep going how they have in the five minutes you’ve seen him, you don’t know how long you’ll be able to handle sitting next to him and not having his dick inside you in some way, shape, or form.

you grab your purse and keys and lock your front door, following jihoon to his car. he pulls on the passenger side door handle, holding it open for you and even offering his hand to help you in.

you don’t know where this man came from out of nowhere, but you really kinda like it.

the drive across town is… tense, but somehow in a good way. it feels comfortable riding in his car; though you’ve only done it once before, it feels like you’ve been in his passenger seat your whole life.

“drinks are on me,” he says as you pull up in front of the bar, a swanky little place squished in between a used bookstore and an italian grill in a long line of shops.

you smile politely, still fighting the heat creeping up in your cheeks. “jihoon, please, you don’t have to. i know how much you make in a year.”

he pulls his keys from the ignition, and the car falls silent. “and? tonight i’m spending it on you. it’s a special occasion.”

you don’t reply, partially because you’re already planning on paying for your own drinks when he isn’t looking, and partially because wtf does he mean it’s a special occasion?

you’re still immersed in trying to figure out what he means that you don’t notice when he check his side mirror for traffic and flings his door open when there’s a lull in cars whizzing by. he jogs in front of the car around to your side by the curb, opening your door and helping you out.

“thank you,” you mumble, trying to avoid staring at his chest that’s coincidentally right in front of your face.

at 5pm on a saturday evening the sidewalk is packed with people, and jihoon slides his arm around you, placing a hand gently on your lower back to guide you to the bar’s entrance. you have to force yourself not to shiver; despite the fabric of your thin sweater on top of your dress, it feels like his hand might as well be pressed against your bare skin.

you manage to find two seats at the bar, and a bartender in a black embroidered apron walks up when jihoon raises a hand to wave him over.

“if it isn’t lee jihoon,” the man grins, putting both hands on the counter. “nice to see you, buddy.”

“nice to see you, too, gyu.” jihoon turns to introduce you. “this is my friend, mingyu. he runs the place.”

you smile, offering him a polite greeting.

“so this is the lucky girl, hm?” mingyu asks, winking at you.

jihoon coughs, and you almost think you see him glare at the man, but his scowl quickly fades when he turns back to you. “ignore him. what do you want to drink?”

you give mingyu your order, and he smiles, pulling two glasses from the rack behind him. “the usual, uji?” he asks, and jihoon nods.

finally settling in, you shrug off your sweater, folding it carefully over the back of the chair before you notice jihoon staring at you.

“i’m gonna… go to the bathroom,” he says hurriedly. “i’ll be right back.” he gets up and dashes towards the back of the room, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

you turn to watch him disappear into the crowd, offering him a smile as he leaves. as soon as he’s out of sight, you grab your wallet from your purse, seeing your chance. jihoon is sweet, but you don’t need him to pay for your drinks, too. just being here with him is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

you catch mingyu’s attention and wave him over, pulling out a few bills. you start to hand them to him, but he shakes his head. “sorry, no can do. i’ve been told not to let you pay for your drinks, it’s jihoon’s treat.”

you sigh and stuff the money back into your purse. fine.

“between you and me…” he starts, and you look back up at him curiously. “uji’s been really happy lately, and if i had to guess, you’re probably the reason why. so if things go bad on your date tonight, just… don’t break his heart, ‘kay?”

your eyes widen. “no, i wouldn’t– i wasn’t planning on–” you stammer, but he’s already walking away to refill somebody’s cocktail, and you’re left wondering what the hell he was talking about.

it was only supposed to be a couple of friendly outings. you can’t feel this way about your coworker, someone you see right across the hall for eight hours a day every monday through friday… right? but if mingyu’s right (and you have no reason to believe he isn’t), then jihoon feels the same way about you. shit, this is deeper than you thought.

before you started… whatever this is with jihoon, you didn’t really talk to him much, even though your classrooms were right next door. you just never happened to see him in passing.

sure, you heard the off-key guitar solos from his students at nine in the morning on mondays and wednesdays, and every once in a while you saw him sitting alone in the teacher’s lounge, earbuds plugged in, nodding his head to whatever song he was listening to and tapping his fingers on the table. but it’s a big school, anyways; it’s easy to not know every teacher that works there, especially ones in a different department.

eventually jihoon comes back, and you spend the next couple hours sipping your drinks, chatting and laughing like you usually do. before you know it he’s looking down at his watch and cursing. “we should go, if we don’t wanna be late,” he says, downing the rest of his drink.

of course, it’s just your luck that now you have absolutely zero appetite for food, and an insatiable appetite for jihoon. his hair is messed, glistening a little as if he ran his fingers through it with water, and his cheeks are practically glowing.

jihoon reaches out for you, and you take his hand, letting him lead you out of the bar. mingyu waves goodbye, a grin on his face as he watches the two of you walk away.

the ride to the restaurant is more tense than you’d like it to be, but it’s probably imagined tension from you more than it is actual tension.

while you’re desperately trying to pretend you don’t want him to pull the car over and fuck you in the backseat, you don’t notice how he’s pretending he doesn’t want to turn the car around and drive home and fuck you there instead of going to this whole stupid dinner in the first place. you stare out your window, keeping your hands planted firmly in your lap, and he stares out the windshield, keeping his hands firmly wrapped around the steering wheel.

too quickly, you arrive at the restaurant and he parks in the lot out back. again, he gets out and jogs around to the passenger side to open your door for you again, offering his hand to help you out. your cheeks warm, and you hope he can’t tell how nervous you are.

walking through the lot towards the building, you recognize a few of your coworkers’ cars. past you that used to attend the teacher parties alone would’ve been a little disappointed that you’re so late to the event, but you that’s here now couldn’t care less about how late you show up, when you could be spending time alone with jihoon instead.

although, the amount of people around you tonight is probably for the best, because if they weren’t there you don’t think you’d be able to stop yourself from jumping him and fucking him in the middle of the restaurant.

he opens the door and smiles at the greeter, who leads you back to the private room where the rest of the party is. you feel jihoon’s grip on your waist tighten imperceptibly when the man glances at you for just a beat too long before showing you the table, and you force yourself to ignore the way your stomach does backflips at his touch.

the room is huge, with two long buffet tables for all the employees who are laughing and chatting. you find two empty seats near the end of the table and quickly a waiter comes over to offer you drinks. having already had enough to drink at mingyu’s bar, you settle for water, wanting to stay sober for whatever happens later. jihoon orders a coke.

some of the administrators order appetizers for the table, and as you wait for them to get passed down to you one of your coworkers walks over.

you look up at her and smile. “hey, jan–”

“hi, jihoon,” she purrs, completely ignoring you as she wraps her arm around your date’s shoulders, the martini in her hand sloshing with the movement.

your smile drops, and you look away, focusing on the ice cubes in your glass as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. at least, it’s more interesting than watching your married coworker shamelessly flirt with the man you’re supposed to be on a date with. you should’ve known a man as attractive as jihoon would have women throwing themselves at him all night. maybe this was a bad idea after all.

he stiffens, brows knitting into a scowl when he sees you avoiding him. “mrs. walker,” he greets her in response, tone flat. “is your husband not able to make it tonight? i had such a nice conversation with him last year about his business trip.”

she giggles. “oh no, he’s working tonight. but…” she trails off, smoothing a hand down his arm. “we could always go have a conversation about another kind of business instead.”

you nearly snort water out your nose at her forwardness, and for a second you contemplate ordering an uber and just going home right now. god, were all the teachers usually this bad, or had you just not noticed it until you were seated next to somebody like jihoon?

he clears his throat, a little too loudly. “sorry, but my date and i have plans,” he says.

at the mention of your name you glance over your shoulder, giving her a short nod before you return to staring at the water droplets rolling down the side of your glass.

her grin falters, but she recovers quickly. “oh! i didn’t know you two came together,” she says, giving you a look as she sips her martini.

jihoon doesn’t respond, his arms crossed and staring at his empty plate. your coworker stands behind his chair in silence until the awkwardness is too much, and she lets out another forced laugh. “well, i’ll leave you be, then. but you have my number if you change your mind and wanna do something more fun tonight,” she mutters, downing the rest of her drink and stumbling off in search of the nearest waiter for another round.

the restaurant is filled with loud conversations, but an uncomfortable silence settles between you.

so what if you are a little jealous? you surely have no right to be; you’ve only gone out with this man a handful of times, not nearly enough to call him yours. but for tonight, for right now, he’s your date, and you feel entitled to at least a little bit of sulking.

jihoon coughs a little, finally breaking the silence. “i’m sorry about her.”

you stir your straw around your water glass, still avoiding his eyes. “not your fault.”

“yeah, but still,” he says with a sigh. “she didn’t have to be an asshole to you.”

“it’s fine,” you say halfheartedly, bringing the plastic straw to your lips to take a small sip. “all the teachers get plastered at the staff parties.”

“you don’t, though,” he says after a pause.

“neither do you, looks like,” you say, pointing to the coke can in his hand.

he laughs. “no, not really… not when i have more fun things to do.”

for the second time that night you almost spit out your water. “that’s not funny, jihoon.”

“but you’re smiling,” he says, a grin of his own rising on his face, and you can’t hide the way your smile mirrors his.

you give in, letting out a laugh at his stupid joke, somehow both hating and loving how he was able to brighten your mood.

he smiles, his eyes sparkling under the restaurant lights. “do you maybe wanna… leave?”

ten minutes later, after a rushed goodbye to the assistant principal who was probably too drunk to even recognize you, your back is pressed against the side of jihoon’s car, your hands tangled in his hair as you moan into his mouth. his lips crash against yours, hands falling to your waist again as he pushes you into the passenger door.

when you pull away to take a breath, you can see his hair’s messed up again in that effortlessly sexy way that makes your heart race.

“can we go– someplace else?” you breathe. fuck if the back of your dress is totally dirty now from the car, you’re itching to get out of it—or have it taken off of you.

“shit, yes,” jihoon answers in between kisses up your jawline. “my place or yours?”

you whine at the feeling of his teeth against your skin. “anywhere, fuck– whatever’s closer.”

you find yourself in yet another extremely tense car ride as jihoon floors it down the highway, probably breaking more than a few traffic laws in his rush to get home. his house ends up being closer to the restaurant, so that’s where you decide on going.

he pulls in the driveway and you don’t even give him a chance to come around to open your door for you, jumping out of the car as soon as it’s turned off.

his hands fumble with his keys, but finally he gets the front door open and you both fall inside his house. the door slams shut behind you and immediately you’re shoved against it, jihoon’s hips pushing into you to keep you in place as you frantically grab at his broad shoulders to pull him closer. kissing him is addictive; the dizzying rush of his tongue in your mouth and his hands exploring your body makes you weak in the knees.

after a while you break apart, heaving for air as the lustful intensity starts to melt away into something more careful, but no less alluring. it’s finally starting to sink in that you’re kissing jihoon, you’re in his house, and you’re definitely getting laid tonight.

a sudden burst of confidence has you slipping one hand down, feeling his hips jerk when you palm him lightly over his pants.

“god, i’ve been hard for the past two hours,” he mutters through gritted teeth as your delicate fingers play with the top button on his slacks.

“you act like i haven’t been wet for the past two hours,” you reply, and he groans in relief when you undo the zipper, releasing some of the tension around his cock from how tight the dress pants were.

his hands grab at your waist, spinning you around to face away from him so he can unzip your dress. with how desperate he is—how you both are—you expect him to tug it off you as quickly as possible, but to your surprise, he moves slowly.

his hands smooth across your shoulders, running over your body through the fabric, and you shiver; the feeling of his touch is almost too much, even while you’re still fully clothed. his hands slide down your back, slowly moving to the sides of your breasts and traveling lower until they come to a stop at your waist.

he pulls you back against him, lightly grinding against your ass, and you whimper. you could already see he was, but now you know he really is as hard as he said, his clothed cock pressing into you.

his fingers move back up your body to toy with the zipper at the base of your neck, sending chills down your spine. he leans closer, and you can feel his breath on your neck as he leans in to press a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath your earlobe.

“is this okay?” he breathes.

you whine, shifting on your feet to bring his lips back closer to you. “yes! please, jihoon.”

you can feel his smile against your neck before he dives back in, sucking lightly at your skin, burning hot under his touch. you’re sure he can feel your pulse racing a mile a minute as your legs start to buckle at the pleasure.

before you can stop yourself, you let out a loud moan, your head rolling back to rest against him and inadvertently exposing more of your neck to him. you feel his grip tighten around you, beginning to suck harder until you’re sure it’ll leave dark bruises. but for some reason, you don’t care. you want to carry around his marks on your neck. you want it to be a little obvious. if not for you, then to show that bitch jan what she was missing.

he pulls his mouth away from you and you whine again, but he just hums and puts his hands against your back, finally beginning to pull at the zipper.

he stops once it’s halfway down your body, moving his fingers back up to your shoulders to slip the fabric off, letting it hang around your waist.

he turns you around to face him, and you hastily reach around to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. he leans down and pushes his face into your bare breasts, moaning as he begins to sink to his knees in front of you.

if you hadn’t completely soaked through your panties earlier, you definitely have by now. you can feel the throbbing heat between your legs, begging for him to touch you, to do anything.

he must read your mind, because immediately his hands reach behind you to grab onto the zipper again, tugging it down the rest of the way. he leaves a trail of kisses as the fabric falls to the side, starting in between your breasts and moving down lower, lower, past your belly button until he’s kissing the hem of your panties and your dress is in a pile at your feet.

you slip out of the dress, stepping out of your shoes as well as jihoon’s hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his face. he groans, his nose smushing against your clit through your underwear, and you gasp at the sudden contact.

he looks up at you, half his face obscured by the way he’s pressed against your body, only his eyes meeting yours, silently asking to continue. you whine out his name and another “please”, and that seems to satisfy him enough to loop his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear and tug them down to your knees.

the moment he presses his mouth to your pussy is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. the way his tongue darts out, laving over every inch of the skin between your legs, has you squeezing your eyes shut in pure bliss and begging him not to stop. your hand shoots to his head, struggling for something to hold onto to keep you grounded at the sudden pleasure.

but just as you start to feel your orgasm approaching, he pulls off of you in a rush, panting as he sits back on his heels. he couldn’t have had his tongue on you for more than a few seconds, but it was more than enough to build you up before he tore you right back down.

he pulls your panties back up your legs, fixing them back at your hips as he stands up. you shoot him a panicked look. he’s not about to eat you out, not let you finish, and then bail on you… is he?

but he just wipes his hand across the back of his mouth and picks your dress and shoes up off the hardwood floor. “we’re still in the front doorway,” he chuckles. he puts his hand on your lower back, your warm skin prickling at his cool touch as he leads you down the hall to what you assume is his bedroom. “thought you’d be more comfortable here.”

he flicks on the light and tosses your dress and shoes at the foot of the bed while you look around. his room is small but tidy, a keyboard in one corner and a few different guitars mounted on the wall.

it’s a pretty cool room, and if you weren’t so incredibly horny right now, you’d ask him to tell you about all his things, but right now all you can focus on is the tent in his pants that you’re praying will find its way between your legs sometime soon.

you’re still on edge from the orgasm he pulled you away from earlier, so you fall onto his bed with no hesitation, hoping he’ll get the hint as you lay in nothing but your underwear.

and he does, immediately coming over to you and beginning to strip down.

you should be embarrassed about how wet you are right now, but when your insanely sexy coworker is hurriedly pulling his shirt off, practically ripping the buttons off at how fast he throws it off, you have more important things on your mind.

he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, so close you can feel his breath on your cunt. you throw your head back as his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties for a second time, effortlessly tugging them all the way off and tossing them into the pile along with the rest of your outfit.

he hums, collecting your wetness on the tip of his finger as he drags it through your folds. his hands are freezing cold in contrast to the heat between your legs. “so it wasn’t just me,” he says to himself, admiring the way his finger glistens with moisture.

“h-huh?” you stutter, lifting your head to look down at him. the way he’s crouching between your legs like he’s about to devour you makes you forget everything else that’s happened tonight.

he ghosts his lips over your clit, giving you a quick kiss. “for a while i thought you were only being friendly, when you went out with me all those times.”

“but look how wet you are,” and he holds his finger up for you to see. “so it wasn’t just me that wanted you so bad. you wanted me too.”

he pushes his finger back into you for just a moment, spreading your juices around and wiping his fingers on the inside of your thigh. “wanted to bend you over that table in the coffee shop, the one in the corner we always sit at,” he groans out. “the counter in the teacher’s lounge, by the window. the bathroom sink at gyu’s bar earlier. and especially at the table at the restaurant. wanted to fuck you goddamn everywhere.”

“jihoon, please,” you whimper. him confessing how much he likes you turns you on, more than you’d like to admit.

“please, what?”

maybe it’s a little much to be asking for the first time with you, he’ll admit, but you’re both so desperate for each other, and you’re really enjoying it, so he figures he might as well go all out.

you throw your head back, but you give him what he wants. “please, will you eat me out, jihoon?”

and as much as he loves the way his name sounds falling from your lips, he’s not done with you yet. “soon,” he replies simply, and you start to protest until he shoves his finger back inside of you.

you try to hold back a yelp at his sudden touch, but it escapes you. he tsks, slowly adding a second finger and ignoring the way you shiver. “don’t be quiet, baby. with all the noise we make in my classroom, i never hear a peep out of you across the hall. i know you can be loud when you want to.”

and you do want to. it’s almost frightening how suddenly his personality has flipped– the shy man you only saw briefly in the halls now has you completely wrapped around his finger, begging him to touch you. and you don’t even care.

the next time he pumps his fingers in and out of your dripping hole, you don’t hold back your moans, breath catching in your throat as he begins to speed up. “there you go. good girl,” he coos in a low voice that makes you clench automatically around his fingers, and he grins mischievously. “you make such pretty sounds. should fuck you in my classroom next time, they’ve got better acoustics in there so i can hear your pretty voice better.”

you’re much too focused on the way his thumb is flicking your swollen clit to comprehend the way he says “next time” as if this isn’t a one time thing. but after, when you’ve recovered enough to remember the things said in the heat of the moment, those words are something you won’t forget.

“jihoon, please, don’t talk about work while you’re fucking me,” you manage.

he just grins and laughs, pushing his fingers into you faster. before you know it you feel your orgasm building back up, and you have to resist the urge to reach down and tug on his hair to get him to go faster.

but somehow he must know you’re getting close, because he leans forward and wraps his lips around your clit and starts sucking, hard. your back arches and you gasp, not expecting the sudden warmth of his mouth on you.

he flicks his tongue as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you, and with a cry of his name he finally lets you cum. your cunt clenches hard around his fingers, so tight he can barely keep moving them, but somehow he does, helping you through your orgasm as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

you lay on his bed, panting, trying to catch your breath as he stands up, finally removing his own underwear.

“are you alright?” he asks, and you sit up on your elbows, your vision returned enough to see him now standing nude in front of you.

your eyes are glued to his cock when you answer, staring at how gorgeous it looks and how badly you want him in your mouth. “yeah, i’m–”

“then get up.”

your eyes widen. “huh?”

“do you wanna be on top?” he asks, but you’re already shifting to move off of the bed.

“yes, please.”

he grins. “good.” he sits down where you were just laying, cock resting against his defined abs as you climb up to straddle him. immediately his hands find your waist, guiding you over him.

you push your hips down to grind your clit over his length, not putting him inside you just yet, but moving so he slides through your folds, coating him in your juices.

it’s almost pathetic how eagerly you’re writhing against him, sliding up and down his abs desperately. your eyes are squeezed shut as you concentrate on the pleasure, so you miss the way he stares up at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

what you don’t miss is the way his hands begin to grip more roughly at your hips, helping you ride him until he forces your movements to stop. you pry your eyes open to look at him.

“can i fuck you now?” he asks, and the sudden breathiness in his tone gives you a rush like you’ve never felt.

“please, jihoon,” you whimper in response, voice equally as breathy. “please, been waiting all night.”

he leans his head back against the pillows and exhales, letting his eyes fall closed for a second. “good, because i was about to cum from that.”

you giggle, placing your hands flat on his chest. “well, that wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing.”

he groans. “i know, but then i wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

you lean down to kiss him and he melts into your lips, his hands sliding up your back to grip at your shoulders and pull you closer.

he pushes up and manages to flip you over onto your back again, pressing one more kiss to your lower lip before shuffling down the bed. you spread your legs apart to give him better access, and he positions himself between them, looking down at you with a woozy smile on his face.

he begins pushing into you and you moan. the feeling of being full is something you haven’t felt in a while, but the feeling of being full of jihoon is a completely different story, and you don’t know whether you could go back to anyone else, even if you wanted to.

he pauses for a minute to let you adjust, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you finally feel him pull out and slowly push back in.

“god, you feel so fucking good,” he whines as he starts to increase his pace, hips rocking against yours.

you let your head fall back against the pillows in open-mouthed pants. “more, jihoon, please.”

he leans down and pushes your thighs up against your chest, holding your legs as he continues to pound into you. you vaguely register the praises that fall from his lips with how good he feels inside of you, each thrust angled perfectly to have you already coming closer and closer to the edge.

“jihoon– please! ‘m so close, please let me cum,” you sputter, hands fisting at the sheets for something to hold on to. you don’t know where this side of you came from all of a sudden, asking him for permission, but you can’t deny you kind of like it.

“go on, baby, cum for me,” he says, his voice low and breathy.

and with one more thrust you do, falling apart around him as pleasure burns through every inch of you. all you can do is whimper and let him fuck you through your orgasm, your vision going blank for a few seconds from so much stimulation all at once.

he keeps pushing into you, only easing his pace when you blink up at him, slowly coming back down to earth. your walls spasm around him in the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you when you murmur out his name. his thrusts get sloppier and more hurried as he begins to chase his own orgasm.

“wh–where do you want me to–”

“on my face?” you interrupt, answering his question for him.

he curses under his breath, immediately followed by a low moan. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters. you clench around him and he swears again, finally pulling out of your cunt and holding his cock above you.

his hand moves quickly back and forth along his length as he chases his high, and it hits when you open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out, the lustful look on your face making him lose his mind.

his thick spurts of cum cover your upper half, painting your chin, your neck, your collarbones with white. the little bit that lands on your tongue you eagerly swallow, opening again to show him your empty mouth afterwards, and he groans at the sight.

he rolls over onto the bed, spent. the room is quiet for a minute, the only sound your soft exhales and his labored breathing as it begins to slow.

he presses a kiss to your cheek and slides off the bed, leaving the room for a second before he returns with a cool, wet washcloth, gently cleaning you off. in the moments he’s gone you sigh, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath you and basking in the fading glow of your orgasm.

since it’s saturday night and your sundays are usually free, you decide to spend the night with him. both of you are too exhausted to drive, and jihoon is more than happy to let you stay over. of course he would never force you to stay and he would happily pay for your uber home if you wanted, but he won’t deny that he secretly was hoping to spend a little more time with you before school on monday.

you scrub the makeup off your face as best you can and slip into the clothes he offered you, a t-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts. after getting cleaned up and comfortable, he makes a small pot of coffee and shows you the rest of his house. it’s a cute little place; not the biggest, but just right for him.

there’s an instrument in almost every room, and now you sit at the edge of his bed wrapped in a blanket, working up the courage to ask him if he’ll play something for you. “i always hear your students, but i’ve never heard you,” you laugh.

he smiles and pulls one of his guitars off the wall, just a hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks as he adjusts the tuning pegs. he strums a couple notes, humming along quietly as he settles into a gentle rhythm.

later, you’re lying in bed with him (he offered to sleep on the couch and let you have his bed to yourself, but you insisted on him staying). the colored lamp on his bedside table is on, casting a soft red glow around the room.

the sheets rustle as he rolls over onto his side. “i’m sorry if it was… intense, earlier,” he says quietly. “i was–” he pauses, thinking of his next words carefully. “i was excited. you’re so… i really admire you. so i might’ve been a little too eager.”

with a little effort you manage to roll over to face him. you reach across the sheets to run your hand through his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear. “don’t apologize,” you whisper. “it was perfect.”

he sighs, and even in the dim red light you can see his shoulders visibly relax. “i’m glad you decided to spend the night,” he whispers back.

you smile. “me too.”

“so you have a boyfriend now?”

you glance up, trying not to instinctively rub at the fading marks on your neck. “and what makes you think that?” you say. okay, so maybe you do technically have… something, now.

“i saw pictures of you and mr. lee on the school’s facebook from the christmas party,” heather says nonchalantly.

before you can even think of a response, something like, “why are you searching for pictures of me,” or, “since when does the school have a facebook profile?”, she shrugs and goes back to her grammar assignment. you were so caught up in jihoon at the party that you honestly don't even remember anyone taking pictures, but you can only hope they didn’t catch the way you were looking at each other in a decidedly not pg-rated way, right before you decided to leave the event.

you hold in a laugh, watching her. she doesn’t say anything more, so you look back at the homework in front of you, waiting to finish being graded. a shiver runs down your spine at the memory of jihoon’s hands roaming your body over the weekend, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you with his fingers and his tongue and his beautiful cock.

“if you two get married, can i be the flower girl?” you hear a minute later, interrupting the silence—and your naughty daydreams. “since it was me that got you together.”

“we’ll see,” you glare playfully, raising your eyebrows. after saturday night spent together and the following lazy sunday afternoon filled with soft kisses in between heated touches, you can’t say it isn’t entirely out of the question. but that’s not something you’re about to tell heather and her little gossip group. those details, you’ll have to keep to yourself.

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voltaspistol · 17 days ago

Text

Hey everyone, it's your friendly neighborhood gold star mental patient here with secondhand therapist advice.

For those of us with a lot of anxiety who tend to get "stuck" trying to take in ALL of the information because your brain is desperately looking for the "AHA!" moment that will make the brain gremlins go away?

That information ain't out there as of the evening of November 6th.

At least not yet.

And if your brain is operating in crisis mode, you will be tempted to say and do things that might hamper rather than help.

Now might be a good time to look through your game and movie backlog to find a title that will help you "come up for air", so to speak. Something that will allow your brain to stop making cortisol & adrenaline, because right now? Your ego is basically doing that I Love Lucy bit where she works in a chocolate factory. That shit is not good for your brain, not good for your body, not good for whatever we have left that passes for a soul.

It doesn't free you from the obligation of getting involved in your community.

It just gives your brain some time to process some things in the back of your mind while your conscious mind takes a break. Here's some suggestions to start: ✅ Lord of the Rings (Not the recent show, the ones from the early 2000s) - The obvious choice which I think a lot of people will be gravitating towards on their own. ✅ Tank Girl (Movie, 1995)- If you need your story of overthrowing tyranny to be filled with swear words, sexual innuendo, and high levels of camp along with a decent 90s soundtrack, this might get you pumped enough to organize. ✅ Amelie (Movie, 2001) - A comfort watch if you feel alone and isolated. If you are too scared or too shy to run headlong into a formal political action group, this french film documents how small, creative acts of kindness and justice can make the world just a little bit better. It will renew your faith in humanity a bit. ✅ Disco Elysium (video game 2019) - A sprawling choose-your-own adventure set in a post-war capitalist dystopia alternate reality. Soothing for those of us who have made apology tours after losing our shit, illuminating for those of us who struggle with intrusive thoughts, and compelling for everyone who likes those stories where reality and unreality are a bit wobbly and elements of the fantastical seep through in unexpected ways. It doesn't have much to do with current events, but maybe that's what you need right now. ✅ Hades (game, 2020) - A game all about being stuck in hell, and fighting to get out, and although you get help from allies along the way, you're the one who has to do the dirty work. If you need some lessons on resilience and a compelling story besides with lots of interesting characters (including non-cis romance options!) and you want to get revenge on an oppressive father figure, try it on for size. ✅ Superliminal (2020) - If you need a high-end creative physics-based puzzle game that is light on story and operates on dream logic that relies heavily on linear perception just to distract you? This one is short but will have you distracted long enough to let your brain breathe a bit. ✅ The Room (2014) - For low-end systems and mobile devices, this is basically an elaborate digital puzzlebox, like one of those fancy desks with lots of hidden drawers. Atmospheric but not scary.

Also, don't discount the obvious ones: Cat videos, re-watching beloved old shows, guilty pleasure music etc.

You are not helping anyone, not even yourself, by doomscrolling until something goes --SNAP!-- in your brain.

Come up for air, give your brain metabolize the nasties, and THEN you will be able to strategize. Though for obvious reasons, now is not a good time to go back to old addictions like World of Warcraft. The idea is to take a break, NOT to drown in old waters. This list is not comprehensive, obviously, please add your own in reblogs

#election 2024 #disability #politics #us elections

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kdogreads · 2 years ago

Note

Your imagine of being chibs old lady is the cutest, sweetest, loviest thing I’ve ever read 😭😭😭😭. Could I pretty please have more? Maybe when they meet or the early days of the relationship

Thank you so much, sweet anon💕 I’ve been traveling a lot for work so I haven’t had time to turn this into as long of a fic as I would have liked. Part 2 will dive deeper into the early days of this sweet relationship. :)

I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Very Soon

Summer, early 1990s, Charming, CA

You’d lived in Charming your whole life and worked at the same damn diner since you were 16. Until very recently, that is, you started working at St. Thomas Hospital.

The Sons were familiar to you, and you to them, most of them calling you by your first name when you’d cross paths. They’d come in to your little diner regularly over the years and you’d built a friendly relationship with the club. They were the only mechanics in town you trusted to do good work for a fair price, so when you blew a tire just down the road from the shop, you started walking that way.

You walked around to the garage where the guys were working on all kinds of bikes and cars. Tig was the first one to spot you and headed your way. He shouted your name with his normal enthusiast demeanor.

“Hey, darlin’. How ya doing? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, thanks, but I hit a pothole or something just around the corner, tore my tire and rim all up. You guys got time for a tow?” You asked him in defeat, slugging your bag over your shoulder.

“Oh, anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll pull the truck around,” He waved for the chestnut-haired Scotsman who was working away on a Harley, “You need a lift? Got somewhere to be?” Tig put a hand on your shoulder gently, careful to keep the interaction light, respectful.

“Nowhere to be but here,” You teased back, punching him in the shoulder playfully.

“Good thing Chibs here has a clear schedule then to keep you company, darlin’,” He patted the Scot on the back, a grin spread wide across his face.

Tig gave you a wink and a turned around to go pick up your incapacitated car. Chibs smiled and extended his arm out, pointing you in the direction of the clubhouse. You’d never been inside before, but you’ve apparently been around enough now to be invited in. You’d always been friendly with Chibs, not unlike the other guys, but there’d always been an extra sense of flirtation with him, his eyes lingered a bit longer on you after every interaction.

He held the door open for you as you stepped into the dimly-lit barroom. The smell of cigarettes, weed and booze invaded your senses. A few heads turned when you walked through the door, but as soon as they spotted Chibs behind you, they just nodded your way. A blush suddenly crept onto your cheeks knowing you were only allowed in because you were being escorted by a member.

“Fancy a drink, sweetheart?” You nodded with a smile, and Chibs handed you a cold beer before leading you to the end of the bar top where two barstools sat empty.

“Thank you, Chibs,” You chirped as you slung back a swig of the icy liquid.

He muttered something you didn’t quite catch, so you raised an eyebrow his way. Playfully questioning his words.

“It’s Filip,” He spoke nonchalantly between sips, “Figure someone oughtta use it.”

You smiled at his openness towards you. The only interactions you’d really had with him before now had been in passing at the diner or when he’d been patching up your car, but there was always something in the way he spoke. A certain lilt in his tone that always made your heart flutter. You thought it might just be his accent, but you were happy to learn you might be wrong about that.

“Alright, Filip,” You spoke, just a hint of flirtation in your voice, “However will you entertain me for the next several hours?” You leaned an elbow on the counter top and smiled up at him.

He looked around playfully, nodding his head towards the other side of the room.

“Know how ta play, lass?” He motioned towards the worn pool table, the hint of a smile tugging one side of his mouth.

“Yeah, kinda. Haven’t played for a long time, but I’m sure you can remind me,” You took a sharp breath in before setting your beer down and hopping off your barstool.

When you stood up, Filip didn’t move at first, so you extended your hand to him, a playful, “come on,” dancing from your lips. That was all it took to lift him to his feet, his gaze drifting to the floor momentarily, probably to disguise the blush flooding his scarred cheeks.

He took this new job of teaching you how to be a star pool player very seriously. He’d squint his eyes and get down level with the velvet tabletop, explaining something about the angles and torque needed to get the ball where you wanted it to go. You kept up as best as you could, all of his strategy and technique basically just flowing in one ear and straight out the other.

Sensing your patience thinning, Filip decided it was time to show you how to properly shoot the ball. It was exactly as you’d seen it in the movies. He planted himself firmly behind you, each of his broad arms in line with your thinner ones.

“Nice ‘n’ easy, now,” He spoke quietly, his breath close enough to tickle the hairs flowing over your shoulder, “No’ too much force, righ’ there on the far side o’ the ball.”

You tried not to react to his close proximity, but you couldn’t stop the shiver that shot up your spine. A shaky breath fell from your lips.

“Nervous, lass?” Filip’s lips almost brushed against your ear this time. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Not at all, Filip,” You popped the “p” a bit more than necessary, turning your head slightly to meet his deep brown gaze for a beat before sinking two balls into the corner hole.

“Aye, s’pose no’ then,” He growls with an amused look on his face.

You turn to face him, comfortably trapped between the old wooden table and Filip’s broad body, his arms resting on the oak on either side of you. He takes a deep breath and sinks down so you are face-to-face. You just stare into each other’s gazes for a moment, both of you thinking about your next move.

“Yer beautiful, lass, always thought so,” Filip whispered, his hand raising to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

A blush crept up your chest and spilled onto cheeks. His gaze was not demanding, but invasive. He filled all of your senses like a rushing waterfall, waves breaking above your head over and over again without giving you a moment to breathe.

“Can I —,” You began, knees feeling like they could buckle at any moment under the weight of his presence, “Can I kiss you, Filip?

He didn’t respond for a beat, a smile daring to creep onto his face. He lifted his other hand from the table behind you and cupped both sides of your face, leaning his body into yours. His lips were softer than you expected as he pressed them to your own, planting a sweet peck onto them.

“Aye, lass, only if I can kiss you back,” His words sparking a smile to spread across your face. You leaned back into him and kissed him again, deeper this time. Your lips crashing together and apart time after time. Filip’s tongue licked a swipe across your bottom lip, sliding into your mouth to explore each part of it. You were so lost in the feeling of tongues melding together that you must have missed the recognizable squeak of the heavy clubhouse door.

“Uh, hey,” An amused Tig began, you straightened up quickly with an embarrassed giggle rising in your throat, “If you’re done sticking your tongue down Chibby’s throat, sweetheart, you car is ready to roll.”

You let the laughter spill out of your mouth as you leaned your head down to rest on Filip’s chest. He wrapped one arm around your waist as the other pretended to shield you from Tig’s view, a chuckle escaping Chibs’ cheeky smile, too. You nodded at Tig with a smile still on your face. He turned around to head back out the door shaking his head and laughing.

“I guess ya better be on yer way then, darlin’,” Chibs smiles to you, his hands still planted firmly on your waist. You only nodded up at him before leaning back into his chest and snaking your arms around his broad torso. His strong arms wrapped around you again as he planted a kiss on the top of your head. The two of you stayed there a moment, wrapped up in nothing but each other before you pulled away from him.

“I’ll be seeing you soon then, Filip?” You asked as you a stepped towards the bar top to grab your bag. Before you could register it, your hand was caught in Chibs’ tight grasp. You spun your head around with a confused look on your face.

“Aye, lass,” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into your knuckles, “Very soon.”

Part two here 🥰🤪

#chibs telford x reader #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs smut #chibs x reader #chibs imagine #soa chibs #chibs telford #kdogreads #soa imagine

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strawberijasper · 5 months ago

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I talked about this on my Twitter but I’m STILL thinking about it so I’m gonna talk my shit again.

Just a heads up for the anime only’s however, this post will contain heavy spoilers!

Hot take, I don’t think Deku should get his quirk back. I know I know— HEAR ME OUT BEFORE YOU BOO ME OFF THE STAYE THO!!

I know a lot of people would be upset if he stays quirkless, and I fully understand why, but think about it. Bakugou passing the embers of OFA that remain in him onto Deku, while it’s cool in theory and I do think would be an interesting plot, it feels like a cop out to me? Narratively Deku losing his quirk and simply not getting it back is poetic in a way and I think for the kind of story that MHA is, works much better.

Deku starts the story quirkless. He’s this boy with all these goals and ambitions, he wants to be a hero despite everyone telling him he can’t. He’s quirkless it’s just not possible right? But he believes so wholeheartedly that he can, even his childhood best friend turned bully can’t discourage him. He had the drive to be a hero even when powerless.

Then All Might comes, gave him the opportunity he never thought he’d have. Not just to be a hero but to have equal footing with the rest of society. To be a hero who isn’t doubted or looked down on because he’s different. And All Might passes the torch, and in doing so, he unknowingly was passing the job of defeating AFO onto Deku. It was now his job to defeat the world’s greatest evil, because that’s what OFA was cultivated to do. It’s purpose was always to defeat it’s creator. And Deku did just that (or at least had a hand in it I’m aware he had help, the power of homosexuality can defeat all great evils ofc ofc).

AFO is defeated, OFA’s main purpose has been fulfilled. The war is over, the users can finally be laid to rest (because remember part of them remained in the quirk in order to help the next users, even in death they fought). Deku doesn’t have a quirk anymore but that doesn’t mean he CAN’T still be a hero. It doesn’t mean he’ll be forced to leave UA (which is what I’ve seen a lot of people say). First of all, UA wouldn’t do that, we know they wouldn’t because we are explicitly told in the first episode that UA changed the rules on quirkless people being in the hero course, Deku explicitly tells us this. So we know for a fact they wouldn’t do that.

The school also knows that Deku CAN fight, he’s fully capable of fighting because he’s been training for over a year, he’s improved a lot and that’s not just his skills fighting with a quirk, that’s overall skill. He has more work to do and needs to learn how to fight without relying on a quirk but they know he’d be able to do it. He’s a quick learner and even without a quirk he’s strong.

We also know now for certain that there are ways for a quirkless person to hold their own in a fight, they have a real chance at being a hero (All Might in the war arc, WHICH I’VE BEEN SAYING THIS FOR YEARS AND NO ONE BELIEVED ME!!). Deku could easily iron man it, he doesn’t NEED a quirk when this is a world where support gear exists specifically to help heroes. There are plenty of heroes that fight virtually quirkless, take Aizawa for example, or Shinsou. They have quirks that help in battle but they fight without any power, it’s not impossible to be a hero without a fancy quirk.

The cycle ends with Deku, and now he’s been given the chance to do what he always believed he was capable of doing. He can prove to a world who doubted him and put him down, that you can be a hero without a quirk. Not only would he be the new symbol of peace, but he would be the symbol of change. He would be the one to really start the conversation around quirkless rights, and isn’t that beautiful?

It’s one thing for Deku to fight for quirkless rights while being a hero with a quirk, but it’s another to be the face of a movement. Narratively this works a lot more in my opinion.

I could be wrong and Deku could end up getting his quirk back and if that’s the case I won’t be upset, but in my opinion I’d much rather he stay quirkless. If Deku says goodbye to OFA for good, gets to be the reason the past users finally get to rest in peace, then that would be beautiful. Genuinely I would love that as an ending so much, and I hope there are people who agree because I can’t be the only one who sees this. Please tell me I’m not the only one T-T

#been thinking about this a lot recently and had to ramble #like you guys see the vision right?#quirkless hero Deku would be SUCH a good way to take the story #Bakugou being the one to encourage Deku not to give up too like THING ABOUT ITTT #Deku going to Bakugou’s dorm one night crying #he’s doubting himself saying how he feels like he doesn’t belong without his quirk #and Bakugou pulls him in and tells him how strong he is #“don’t you dare give up nerd… not when you’ve worked so hard to be here #DO YOU SEE THE VISION??? TELL ME IM NOT THE ONLY ONE #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #mha rant #bnha spoilers #midoriya izuku #mha deku #beri yaps

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vidavalor · 6 months ago

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So I'm on a bit of a roll from just having finished some writing (probably post in the next day or two), so have some random thoughts!

Legit can't remember whether or not your linguistic analysis of Bildad the Shuhite touched on 'cobbler' as Cockney rhyming slang for either testicles (as in 'kick in the...') or nonsense (as in 'load of old cobblers') -- the latter meaning especially feels kind of appropriate!

What kind of 'madeleine memories' might an amnesiac Aziraphale get from a roast beef sandwich???

Do you think actual madeleines are likely to appear on screen in some capacity in S3?

Tiramisu has coffee, chocolate and alcohol, and thus feels like a VERY Ineffable-Husbands-speak dessert :D

Was poking around the Royal Albert Hall website for research purposes and found this: https://www.royalalberthall.com/tickets/tours-and-exhibitions/afternoon-tea/ Not quite as hyper-fancy as the Ritz, perhaps, but lots of little bits of Ineffable-speak meaningfulness in the food as well as being potentially a lovely little engagement celebration date???

Ehehehe

Hi, luv. Looking forward to reading your new writing! So many goodies to ponder here! 😍I actually have some madeleines today. And good coffee. It's raining here and ah, this is all a heavenly combination. 😊 Throwing this under a cut because your mention of tiramisu led me to write about two, related words in Ineffable Husbands Speak that I've noticed repeated: might and found...

We'll do the sea ties to insinuate while we're at it... 🐟

1- Cobbler: I need to do a whole thing on cobbler actually and will add & credit the findings you shared to you. I mainly just wanted to quickly make a post about how cobbler connects to sherry but there's actually a whole web of overlapping words they're using. It also ties to the root kob-- which quite literally means "good omens." 😊 I'll put a longer post on cobbler on the list.

2- Roast beef sandwich madeleine memories?:

*Bildad voice* You tell me... 😉

3- Madeleines on screen in S3?: I'm not expecting it but it would be fun. Would actually also go with the theme of the literal-and-the-figurative, especially with the food, so I guess it might actually be more likely than some other things. I mainly just want Aziraphale to eat something because he had a sherry and a couple of sips of tea in the present in S2 and that's why everything went sideways, really. That angel needs a sandwich in the worst way and in both ways that you can read that sentence.

4- Tiramisu: Yes. It actually also has one of my favorite meanings for any food, as it means a "pick-me-up" in Italian, which is very cute, no? It is very Ineffable Husbands-y for the reasons you mentioned and now you've got me going on about a word that we haven't heard them say lol but I can connect it to two words that they have said, so...

Tiramisu (originally from "tireme su") is thought to have been invented by the owner of a brothel in Treviso sometime around 1800. This innovative Mrs. Sandwich would offer it to clients as an aphrodisiac or as an after-treat and it was basically considered the Viagra of the 1800s in Italy. Coffee, alcohol, chocolate, as you pointed out... food + seamstressing = no way this isn't an Ineffable Husbands Speak thing.

It is perishable, as we know, and it was invented in a time before mainstream refrigeration so it originally wasn't as available outside of bigger cities, which is why it was often offered at the end of a client session as well, before the clients were sent home-- yeah, medicinal tiramisu was a thing. 😲 The actual origins of the dessert apparently weren't really discussed publicly until sometime around the 1980s as, once it became easier to keep things chilled, generations of Italian ladies were making tiramisu constantly and it got a bit awkward to acknowledge that all these adorable old nonnas for generations were passing down how to make this sexy dessert that was created in the first place by a lady bordello owner for, um, reasons...

But tiramisu would, by The Ineffable Husbands' wordplay rules, mix the origins and meanings of the word with its phonetic soundings in English and, as we've seen, French... so, it would also be spoken as: "tier a me sous."

A tier is an arrangement of things in an order and, also, in keeping with our amusing seamstressing origins of the dessert, rows of overlapping trim on a dress. Sous (the last s is silent) means under and/or below in French. In that way, expressing a desire for some tiramisu is expressing a desire for a tier in which you are sous your partner.

[Sidebar but this is reminding me that the sous vide style of cooking translates literally from French as "under/below the vacuum" and... I feel like Crowley does not have the willpower to have never not connected this to Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets in some way 😂... *doesn't look up from his book* "Oh, the Whickber Street Monthly Whatzit's getting takeaway? Gonna get the sous vide chicken this time, angel?"]

Tiramisu means a "pick me up"-- a mood-booster-- but "pick me up" is also obviously both tongue-in-cheek expression of wanting to be seduced and a request to be quite literally picked up, as in lifted off the floor... which is how you know that tiramisu is likely a dessert that Crowley thinks is the tops.

Since we're taking apart a word not in the series, I'll give you two others that tie to it that on their little vocab list: might and found.

There are at least two scenes that I've noticed so far where one of them is using the word might as innuendo in reference to Aziraphale. Might falls into the category of words like wily, thwart, smitten, etc..-- words that are amusing in how they have wildly different, often contradicting, definitions, and where at least one definition is a bit suggestive, allowing them to use it around angels or demons or in public with one definition on the surface and the flirtier one underneath.

On the one hand, might is the past tense of may and involves gentle suggestions or polite requests asking permission. On the other hand, the word might also has a real oomph when used in its other definition, which is to express the strength and power of a nation, a natural force, or a person.

It's basically Aziraphale in a word-- unfailingly polite and gentle on one level and full of raw strength on another.

The other word is found, which can be, uh, found lol, in the Crowley-penned Aziraphale entry in 'Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings...'. The sentence is actually constructed around the inclusion of 'found' and what makes that extra-amusing is that it suggests Crowley was eager to get the word in there, likely because of its nautical definition.

In seafaring terms, for a ship to be described as found is a very positive thing and, to be defined as such, it must meet both of two requirements:

The ship must be both well-equipped (*cough*) and, equally important, fully stocked.

A person who is stocked or stocky is, as we know, one who is broader, more shoulders and chest than height, and of a fuller and thicker build in thighs and arms. Someone like Aziraphale, who is physically strong and brawny and who would not have much difficulty picking up what would be being thrown down if Crowley were to order a tiramisu for dessert, if ya get mah drift...

Insinuate: To subtly introduce slowly into hearts and minds; to maneuver someone or something into a desired position; to thrust in, push in, or wind one's way into; to introduce with torturous slowness; and, of course, the best one: to hint at obliquely (ha!)

The sinu part of the word comes from sinus, a word that I've *achoo* been cursing all damn week because the gorgeous trees and plants are trying to kill me but which is Latin for all sorts of things a lot more pleasant than 'the part of the head that is often pounding during Spring.'

English-language writers of the dreamy sort-- the poets who call rainstorms "tempests", like a certain red-headed demon we know-- would also use sinus back in the day to describe a gulf, a bay, or "the arm of the sea", as well as any hole or cavity in the Earth.

Insinuate = In sinu ate. In the sea, eating. 😂

Why ever [eve/"temptation"/"sin"] would [wood] Aziraphale insinuate that Crowley might [mmm strong] possibly [which shares roots with potent] want [to want; also contains ant, the humans in the insect analogy] something [so/sew, me, thin; opposite of might]? = the actual dessert isn't invented yet in this scene in 1601 but seems like Crowley wants to get tiramisu'd something fierce...

5- Royal Albert Hall: Love this idea. It reminds me of how The British Museum also has an afternoon tea but how they've met in the cafe and how they've probably both wanted to get tea there. While I was on the Royal Albert Hall website, I was laughing over the copy on the menu for the box service, especially the *very* rare modern use of rhubarb in this way:

Choose from a wide range of canapés, sandwiches and sharing plates, finishing your meal with sweet treats. All food is prepared with the finest seasonal ingredients and is always presented with signature rhubarb style.

Aziraphale, back away from the copywriters... 😂

Cheers as always for the amusing stuff to think about @jotun-philosopher 💕

Original posts regarding fish, madeleines and memory, for anyone who might read this and is confuzzled and wondering wtf we're on about:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #aziracrow #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands speak #etymology

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op-smash-or-pass · 3 months ago

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Welcome to One Piece smash or pass

This is based off of @fe-smashorpass except with One Piece characters here are the guidelines:

-Each day we will have 2 characters be chosen for smash or pass. The polls will last for a week.

-Obviously I am skipping: Animals, Children, characters that look like children, and dwarfs(Any character that is over the age of 18 after the timeskip we will use those designs)

-You guys can send me asks! Honestly I don’t know how quick I’ll respond to them but go ahead! It can be about anything (yes including headcannons + ships)

We also have a popularity poll going on! Here

Some important tags: #OP smash or pass (where you can find all the current and previous polls)

#Inbox trick or treating- the trick or treat event that is going on

Below are some FAQ’s that might pop up:

Q: how are you keeping track of the characters? How will you prevent from repeats?

A: I spent four hours making a spreadsheet and tried to weed out all the characters we can’t post here. If a character I missed pops up and I post it I’ll take it down and post a new one.

Q: What else are you a fan of?

A: I’m really into Coral island as of late. Fire emblem has always had a special place in my heart. I also have been playing a ton of Identity V as of late. (I’m a college student so I can really only watch anime)

Q: Are you gonna make a spreadsheet of the most smashable characters?

A: Yes! I have a friend who is willing to do it! Plus at the end I have something else planned :]

Q: Are we allowed to request characters?

No, I’m going in alphabetical order, but if I miss someone please let me know! Though if you want people to smash or pass your One Piece OC’s I can do that!

Q: What characters are we including?

A: As long as they fit in our categories and have a photo of them, they are welcome in this. So yes we have some movie characters but not a lot.

I have decided Momonosuke will not be in this poll because he has the mindset of a child

Q: Why are you doing this?

A: I’m jobless, bored, and hyper fixating hard. Also I thought it would be fun. Plus I wanna get a consensus on characters

Q: Do you have an age limit on this blog?

A: Not really, though if you are a minor and try to argue about this being NSFW then…unfollow idc it’s just a silly poll

Q: The series is still running what about future chapters with characters?

A: I’ll add them to the end of the list and we’ll circle back to them once my main list is done.

Q: How many characters are in this poll?

A: 1000+ most are male there’s only about 250 women in this poll. And yes I checked EVERY big mom child

Q: How are we incorporating Zoan devil fruits in this?

A: As long as they have a human form we will be using them. But the lab made zoan fruits were gonna go with how they look

Cheetah for legs: ❌ Ox for stomach: ✅

Q: Why are people smashing XYZ?

A: Idfk it’s Tumblr man, have you seen the bitches these people are into??

Q: I have a friend who you blocked why did you do that?

A: They probably shipped Coralaw, DoffyCora, or some other illegal ass ship, we’re a pornbot, or straight up being racist. Just don’t be fucking weird man and I won’t block you. I love shipping but if your shipping something illegal I’m gonna block you.

Q: Why is Corazon the profile photo?

A: I think he’s hot + idk heart theme kinda fits. And he has some good alts so I can do Halloween and spring themes

Info about OP:

Hello! You can call me Deer/Rafiel (Raffy) Michael/ or Rosinante!!

I am trans masc and use He/they/it/thing pronouns! Though just He/they is fine too!

I am in my first year of college majoring in creative writing leaning towards video game scrips with a minor in digital art.

This account is run by a DID system and the fictive host Rosinante. Though please do not ask questions about our system due to privacy reasons.

I’m still catching up on the One Piece manga (caught up on the anime), so I apologize if I don’t know the manga characters

Dni:

-Homophobes/transphobes

-Proshippers (fancy way of saying illegal ships)

-Racists

-Coralaw shippers

-Trump supporters

#one piece #one piece smash or pass #anime #op smash or pass #smash or pass

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walkingstackofbooks · 4 months ago

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Trying to decide what I want to work on right now and so to procrastinate I thought it'd be fun to share my current WIPs with you all (omg how did I get so manyyyyy)

Feel free to shout encouragement at me if there's any that particularly pique your interest! :P

Anyway, in order of how recently I've worked on them:

1. Prompt - what if Kukulaka got broken and Garak repaired him?

Coming soon? 80% it'll be done in the next week: I'm hoping to just bash it out at some point, but even though it's short and self-contained, it's hardddd...

2. Unexpected Chapter 2 of Imprisoned. Absolute Sloanshir rot: Sloan provides Julian with more "help", Julian gets increasingly confused/grateful/flustered/fucked

Coming soon? Almost 100% you're gonna see it next week - I am hype and should should should get to the end once I have an evening to myself ;)

3. Prompt - "I don't trust myself to be good to myself right now, but I need someone to be good to me." Conversations between Miles and Julian at various points in the series when they've hit rock bottom and need pulling out.

Coming soon? No... I've written one post-DBIP scene but I'd at least want the post-Argrathi scene and the rest of the DBIP stuff to be done before I put anything up, if not the whole thing... It's definitely a long fic I'll be returning to in fits and bursts. (sorry, prompter...)

4. Prompt - Garak and Julian's first conversation post-IPS/BIL.

Coming soon? It's a strong contender for next week - I was super hype for it when I started but then work interceded and I just haven't got back to it yet. It is a priority, though!

5. Pre-DBIP: a few moments where Julian's unspoken issues with his parents cause friction for him but go unnoticed by his friends. Post-DBIP a similar moment happens and is recognised for what it is. Featuring Julian + beets.

Coming soon? I really don't know. I've got a strong vision for it and scene one (of four) is done, but it's kind of stuttered since then.

6. Julian starts to neglect his self-care, leading to him passing out in the infirmary. Sisko would like to know what the hell happened.

Coming soon? It's already on tumblr in a rough and ready form, so editing to put on AO3 might well happen in the next week - and I'd say a 50% chance of something extra with that?

7. Chapter 2 of At Their Mercy. Alpha!Garak takes over with Omega!Julian where Kira left off... 😉😉😉

Coming soon? Gahhh, I have written this several times over in my brain, but getting the start of this chapter has been proving difficult. Definitely not until after the Imprisoned chapter is done.

8. Why Leeta Kept Kukulaka And How Julian Did Try To Ask For Him Back. Just cute, fluffy gap-filling; I love both of them.

Coming soon? Probably not. Only the outline has been written tbh and this hasn't caught my fancy in a while.

9. "Acts of God": A runabout crashes on a planet where medical intervention is outlawed. Unable to help his injured friends and forbidden from alleviating the suffering he sees around him, Julian has a very bad time...

Coming soon? No, I think this is probably going to be an after-VIsion-Awry project rather than a can-i-get-it-done-first one.

10. "Sloan's planet": Sloan is Julian's s31 handler, sending him out on all sorts of missions... but the missions are fake, Sloan using the holosuite to manipulate Julian pretty much any way he wants...

Coming soon? Possibly. This has more of a series vibe maybe with a few distinct one-shots, so if I get a short idea I might bash it out 🤷‍♀️ Sloanshir's often just so easy to fall into.. 🤣

11. Keiko + Molly + Julian + drawing post-DBIP. Julian's not very good at it, and it's a bit feels but a lot of fluff.

Coming soon? Well I haven't touched it since April but I do smile whenever I remember it exists (and looking at the file, more was written than I remember!)

Welp - and that's not even counting the myriad other ideas floating around my tumblr/ in my head! Or the fact that I have probably another 15-20k of Vision Awry to go... Well, here's looking forward to my August of writing!

(Which I'll definitely have... if I stop procrastinating! :P)

#Andi will write #She hopes :p #fic ideas #ds9 fic #julian bashir #sloanshir #writing woes #nah i love it #apart from when it's being tricksy #and my brain's being tired #wsb

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inariporkka · 6 months ago

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The New English Art Club Annual Exhibition 2024 is online right now (link here), so I wanted to go through it and share my picks with you guys.

The online exhibition is set up mainly to sell art, so there is very little information about the works on the website. There are no descriptions or artist's statements, so we are going purely on my vibes here. The selection and arrangement is also mine, so this post is in essence a mini-exhibition curated for you by me. I'm gonna call it:

State of the Art

A Curated Selection from The New English Art Club Annual Exhibition 2024

(Image descriptions in alt-texts.)

We start with my absolute favourite, "Natural History Museum, Oxford" by T. F. Ashley. (Link)

Pro-tip for any aspiring curators: you always lead with the strongest piece. If this was a physical exhibition, this would be on the poster, this would be hanging on the main wall of the space.

I am the kind of person who prioritises drawing over everything else in art. I don't mean drawing as a medium (though that is important to me too), but as an element of art. And this piece - while obviously being made in a drawing medium - also manifests the kind of drawing that I think is important. To me that kind of drawing is almost like thinking with a pencil in hand, making a thought process visual, visible.

This piece also has that elusive quality of looking tactile. I live a very digital life, and I have chased that vibe of "digital image that looks like you are touching it" for a long time - and this image nails it.

I am also drawn to this image for its content, as I work in a museum so the picture is relevant to my professional interests, too.

Rest of it is under the cut, because I am considerate of y'alls dashboards.

Landscapes

First we will have a landscapes section. Landscapes are not usually particularly divisive, so it's a safe choice to lead into an exhibition with them. They also have the power to be familiar: the viewers of the exhibition might know the place depicted in the works. Or, since a lot of places on Earth have similar vibes, a place might remind someone of a different place.

Melissa Scott-Miller: "Waterside Cafe, Little Venice" (Link)

For example this painting reminds me of Coventry, where I used to live, because Coventry has a river running through it, and the river has these kinds of narrow houseboats on it. I never had the opportunity to visit one, so this painting makes me feel some kind of a nostalgic longing or remembering a missed opportunity.

It leads us to the next painting: "Boating Central Park" by Ruth Stage. (Link)

This painting is done in egg tempera, which is not an easy technique, and knowing that appeals to me - I enjoy examples of humans being good at doing difficult things. The image is also beautiful. It doesn't look like anything I have ever seen. Like, I can get vibes of influences, but it doesn't feel like I have seen paintings like this a lot in my life. Also grey is my favourite colour.

Next we will have another unique-looking landscape, "Estate - The End of the Affair" by Andrew Torr. (Link)

The geometric shapes and planes of colour are approaching abstraction without crossing over to it. I also really enjoy mundane things being given the art treatment, because making a painting does elevate its subject, still. The area depicted in the image looks like somewhere people like me might live, in a way that "fancy" places don't, because I'm not rich or fancy.

Taidg O'Malley: "Piazza del Campo Rooftops, Siena" (Link)

Another landscape approaching abstraction, with the additional layer of an unusual point of view. I just really really love this, it is so inventive, and especially when "Siena" is the name of a place but also the word for the colour that is the most prominent in the image. The artist is using the medium of the painting to pass on that insight they have had about the association between the name of the place and the name of the colour, and it feels fantastic to be receiving that insight. For my personal art practice sharing insights and pointing out things I have noticed in the world are central motivations for me, so all sorts of synapses are firing for me right now.

And lets pair another high up view point with the painting above:

John Duffin: "W1A - BBC and All Souls Church, Langham Place" (Link)

This is an etching, which is a kind of print where you scrape the image onto a metal plate with a needle. I love a fine line and you don't get much finer lines than with etching. I also really love all printmaking. The mood in the image is also top notch, very dramatic and powerful, even ominous. The light is almost like a frozen explosion, and the tall buildings make me think of Batman the Animated Series. I also really like the use of the postal code in the title. Not sure why, but it's cool, interesting, I like codes.

We will continue the fine lines and meticulous details idea here, with Neil Pittaway's "Brunel City". (Link)

Something about the colours and the details done in white hark back also to the egg tempera painting of Central Park, but this one is a drawing done with pen, ink, watercolour, and "body colour" (???) The image is delightfully Inception-esque, and I really jive with this way of depicting a city.

We follow it up with "Wiener Jugedstil Palast" by the same artist. (Link)

More of this incredibly enjoyable line work depicting the kind of architecture I (and a bunch of other people here on Tumblr) like.

Portraits

It leads us neatly to our next segment: Portraits. Portraits are also nice and friendly for viewers, because we are humans and we know how to look at pictures of other humans. Of course the depiction of humans does bring in the possibility of viewer (and artist! and curator!) bias, bigotry, and sense of propriety (what if someone is naked? what is appropriate? where do we draw the lines?) so we run a slightly bigger risk by introducing the human element to our exhibition.

We start with Frederick Jones and "Hidden" (Link), as it carries a similar visual language as the above drawing.

This wood engraving might not be a portrait in the strictest sense, considering the person is obscured, but I don't subscribe to the idea that we can be identified only by our faces. Also the Rene Magritte vibe is strong here, and who doesn't like a good Magritte.

Michelle Maddox: "Self Portrait in the Studio" (Link)

Another portrait with an obscured subject, with nice geometric-ish surfaces of colour (check out those circles and semicircles on the twigs in the vase!), which this time add to the Magritte vibes.

Charlotte Sorapure's "The Lepidopterist's Dream" (Link) introduces another layer of surrealist inspiration with the trope of the reflection in a mirror reaching out. The vase with plants connects this one to the previous painting too.

The objects in front of and reflected in the mirror seem normal enough until you hang on a moment exploring the image and begin to notice that some of the butterflies have alighted onto mirrored images of flowers.

Then we use the profusion of flowers and butterflies as our link to the next painting, where the background has a profusion of organic elements.

Julie Held: Self Portrait (Link)

Something about the strangeness of the composition appeals to me. My eyes explore the background, trying to figure out what is going on (is it upside down?) before returning to the awkward, sketch-like figure in the corner.

Next up is Barbara Leidl's "Dominic (and Bird)". (Link) We continue the theme of limited palettes.

I love earth tones, and the bird on the figure's shoulder is absolutely perfect. The use of outline with minimal shading works so wonderfully well here. It's the drawing again.

Paul Gildea: "Boy with Necklace" (Link)

A slightly impressionistic treatment, which is an enduring trend in contemporary painting, but the subject punches it above the mass. It makes me slightly uncomfortable, because the subject seems so beautiful but vulnerable and uncomfortable too. My sense of propriety doesn't quite know what to do with this image.

Maxim Langford: "Arnold" (Link)

The shifts in value, light and line work in this one are incredibly satisfying to see, they scratch some kind of an itch for me. Also I am very partial to profiles, I just think profile portraits are the most interesting and beautiful.

Shadi Vahabzadeh: "The Daughter of the Sun" (Link)

We are once again nearing abstraction, and here I particularly like those pattern fills on the skirt and the vase, and the lighter area in the background. They connect well to the way the shirt and hair of the previous drawing were also only sketched out as shapes.

Shanti Panchal: "The Book of Revelation" (Link)

This one combines together a lot of elements that I find particularly enjoyable: the profile view, the combination of line art and subtle shading, surrealist influences, and even the combination of the yellow sofa and the grey background is right up my alley (because I run an aesthetic blog for the colour grey called @grey-in-color and my friend does one for yellow called @marigoldserenity and one year Pantone chose grey and yellow as the colour combo of the year).

And we close the portrait section with a painting that is only dubiously a portrait (though every foot fetishist worth their salt will tell you that you can recognise a person from their feet).

Sharron Astbury-Petit: "Reclining with Venus". (Link)

It connects to the above painting in several subtle ways: the style of line art and shading is similar, there are nude figures in both; but also the contrast between the flat grey background of "The Book of Revelation" and the profusion of colours and organic shapes in "Reclining with Venus" - which one might expect to find in a painting inspired by Indian miniatures. I also really enjoy the subtle touch of the bird tattoo on the ankle, which matches the busy vibe of the background.

Still Life

The next segment is paintings of objects, still lifes. We'll start with William Pierce's "Trainers" (Link), which carries us nicely over from the previous image of feet.

Here too the vibe is nearing abstraction and sort of impressionistic-ish, but what can I say, a trainer (sneaker, running shoe, tennis shoe, whatever you call it) is such an iconic object that it just always works.

Jason Line's "Bric-a-brac" (Link) also has shoes in it, and a similar sketchy feel.

I also find this perspective kind of strange and interesting, looking at things from above, as if they are laid on the floor. Like logically I reckon that is a table, but to me the feeling is of floor for some reason.

The next painting by the same artist continues the floor vibes: "Still Life with Shell" (Link)

But here more than the weird perspective vibe, I love the colours. Look at all that amazing grey, which is accentuated by the pink shell and the blue bottle (it's called "@grey-in-color" for a reason).

Claire Venables: Recreating the By-Product (Link)

Similar vibe here, with the way the shapes work, and with the colours. This is aesthetic manna for me. Also blue is my wife's favourite colour, so I do pay more attention to it due that. The subject is also fascinating, it is not common to see science as the subject in visual arts, especially in traditional mediums like painting.

Agata Smolska: Arrangement in Yellow (Link)

And here we have grey and yellow meeting again! But I just really find any and all colours in the same image with grey to be really compelling. Everything goes great with grey. The subject is also another great example of elevating the mundane, with paper cups and napkins (and a lemon for some reason? What are they serving?)

Misc

We finish this exhibition with a grab bag of paintings that don't quite fit any of the above categories. Which I think is important, you always need to have space for things (and people!) that don't fit into your neat little labels.

First we have "Not Forgotten" by Aidan Potts (Link) which could be a still life, or a portrait of a flower. That's actually something I have thought about a lot, plant portraiture.

By now you know my thing well enough to see it right away: I am here for the grey and the colours. I also love the challenge of the title, because a plant growing in a crack in the sidewalk is pretty near to being forgotten, despite still fighting. Which reminds me: Free Palestine.

Toby Ward: Bike Repair Station (Link)

Here again appears my beloved line art with lively flat areas of colour, and the elevation of the mundane. But I also love the subject matter, because bicycles have been important to me throughout my life.

And last, "The Bar at The Bull" by the same artist (Link).

We finish with a painting that I can't quite explain what it is I like about it, because it just goes straight into my feelings without passing Go. It reminds me of something that I don't have anymore, even though I never had it. This one for me connects to Harpo Marx and how important he is to my life, but the connection is too convoluted to try to explain. But what is more useful to explain is the fact that this connection exists and is the reason I am drawn to this painting. Because there's no way the artist was making this painting thinking that I would connect to it through some convoluted Harpo Marx connection.

Instead this painting being the finisher in my little online exhibition is an illustration of the fact that we see in art what we bring to it as much as what the artist and the subject bring into it. We mix it all together in our brains and get some sort of experience out of it. And that's pretty much all there is to art. It is a form of communication you cannot achieve with any other form.

Thank you for reading/looking, I know that was a lot and I did it mainly for myself, but I'm glad you were here along for the ride.

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