#actually i don’t know if this qualifies as shower thoughts

[katiethepungoblin]

company town time loop story

The story begins when the protagonist decides to use some vacation time to take a day off work. The day after that the protagonist goes back to work. That day continues as normal, until the protagonist wakes up the next day to realize that a time loop is happening. There’s some Groundhog Day shenanigans until we notice that the protagonist is visibly aging as time goes on. It’s slowly revealed that the protagonist is not in a time loop; everybody working in the town got replaced by humanlike robots on the protagonist’s day off because, according to the owners of the company town, predictability makes a better workforce. The protagonist’s goal then changes from “break out of the loop” to “find out where the fuck the company took my friends” and possibly later “get this company out of the town entirely”

[roostersgirlfriendlovesf1]

i'll look after you | charles leclerc

prompt: everyone close to y/n is worried. she doesn't eat or drink enough and those are two extremely important things, especially this weekend. she will be racing in qatar at all time high temps. most worried is her best friend and teammate lando and secret boyfriend charles leclerc

warnings: discussions about not eating/ taking care of self, angst, fluff, cursing, injury, throwing up?, fear, fluff

No one expected Qatar to be so hot. Y/n stepped off of the plane, sweatshirt and sweatpants immediately causing her to sweat. She put her sunglasses on. “Who would’ve thought it would be this hot in the morning?” 

Her teammate Lando Norris responded, “Not me.” He pulled at the front of his black t-shirt. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead before climbing into a car.  “Hey.” He tugged on her sleeve to get her attention.

“Yeah?” She looked away from the window. 

“Are you alright?” He frowned. “You’ve just been off. You seem tired and-” He looked down at her figure, “have you been eating enough and drinking? If it's this hot on Sunday you’re gonna need to be fully nourished.”

“I’ve made the weigh-ins every weekend, so don’t worry, I’ll get us points.” She snapped.

“That's not why I’m worried.” He shook his head. “I want you to be alright.” 

The start of the weekend had been more peaceful than usual. Media had less sexist questions, the car felt good, and y/n had been more open to eating. She kept her head down as she went to her first meeting after FP3. She sat across from her trainer as he slid her a vegetable plate across the table. “Eat.”

“You’re wasting my time.” She glared at him. “I thought this was an actual meeting.”

“It is.” He nodded. “I need you to eat and drink as much as possible these next few days. This race is going to be so hot, you’ll lose a lot of water and a lot of weight. I know how serious you are about your racing and with your lap times these past three practices you have a good chance at qualifying front row.”

She sighed, staring down at an unappetizing plate. 

“Just take it to your driver's room with you and take a cold shower.” He pleaded.

“Okay. I will.” Y/n agreed. As she stood up her phone pinged. 

Charles: Come to my room?

                                                           Y/n: Sure.

She managed to subtly sneak herself into Ferrari hospitality and into Charles’ drivers room. “Hi.” She smiled shyly.

“Hi.” He hugged her before kissing her lightly on the cheek. 

“Lucky, you’ve gotten to shower.” She smelled his freshly washed hair, a comforting smell. She watched him as he glanced at the plate of food in her hand. 

“Let's eat.” He smiled, grabbing the plate from her and placing it on a table, ushering her to sit. 

“I’m not very hungry…” She breathed. “I would really love a shower though.” 

“We’ll shower after I see you eat a bit.” 

She took a bite of celery with hummus. Charles brushed a piece of her hair behind her hair, his movements so faint it tickled. He had convinced her to eat a few more vegetables before she decided it was time to wash herself off. He stood up with her, hand on her waist, ready to guide her to the bathroom. “Is it okay if I shower alone?” She whispered, touching his hand. “I’m just really tired and I need a cold shower and I know how you feel about those.”

Excuses to keep him away. “That’s fine.” He smiled. She smiled back at him, a hint of a sparkle. “Can we talk about something after you get out?”

“What is it?” Her smile flickered.

“M’just worried about you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “This is going to be a tough race.”

“Why are you acting like I can’t do it?” Y/n shook her head, feeling betrayed.

“It’s not that you can’t do it! It’s that you’re not taking care of yourself!”

“Whatever, Charles.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to shower and I hope you clear your head while I’m in there.” Y/n washed herself, feeling a relief as the cold droplets of water relieved her hot skin. Her head drooped as she tried not to fall asleep cleaning her face. She slowly pulled on a white blouse with jean shorts, easing them onto her achy limbs. She pulled her hair into a braid, knowing the heat outside would dry it within minutes. Charles had passed out on the couch, y/n tiptoed around looking for her shoes.

“Baby…” He mumbled, slowly waking up, “Where are you going?”

She placed a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ve got to go get some sleep before qualifying tomorrow.” 

He grabbed her waist before she could walk away. “I thought I was bringing you to the hotel.”

“Charles.” She tensed.

“What?” He sat up, offended.

“I’m stressed and the idea of us being seen together makes me even more stressed.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Charles’ brows furrowed.

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.” 

“Are you sure about that?” He frowned.

“I have to go. I love you and I’ll text you later.” She walked away, shooing off his insecurities. 

The next day, Y/n had made it to Q3 and was starting in third the next day. She was disappointed she didn’t make the front row, but shrugged it off. Lando had pulled her into a hug before she hit the media pin. “Congrats!” He rubbed a hand on her back.

“Thank you.” She hugged him back. 

“You’re very hot…” He moved his hand to her face. “Here, take the rest of my water.” He forced it into her hand, knowing she didn’t drink water enough throughout the day.

“Thanks.” She accepted it, immediately taking a sip. Lando's eyes widened, surprised at her immediate acceptance. She stood outside the media pin and chugged Lando's water, searching for a cooling feeling. She felt a cold towel brace her neck and groaned at the relief. She turned around to see who had applied it and watched as Charles winked before entering the media chaos, no hard feelings from the night before. She followed shortly after.

After an hour of answering cryptic questions, denying answers about her personal life, and bragging about her grid-place she was able to escape. Charles waited for her to get out of meetings and strolled next to her. “Can I come to your room tonight?” She asked.

“Trying to distract me from the fact you’re starting a place behind me?” He joked.

“Just nervous…” She fiddled with her rings. “And you always help with my nerves.”

“Of course you can come to my room, Y/n.” He affirmed. “Always.” A wave of relief flooded over him when he realized he could monitor her closely. 

Y/n walked down the hall to his room and knocked on the door. It was quickly opened and she was greeted with a kiss on the lips and a glass of water. “It’s freezing in here.” She shivered. 

“Sorry.” He wrapped a hand around her waist. “Y’know who I saw today?” He looked down at her.

“Who?” She held eye contact, his watercolor eyes gleaming. His eyes grounded her onto this earth. 

“I saw Daniel after qualifying.”

“How is he?”

“He thinks he might be given the opportunity to take over De Vries’ position at Alpha Tauri.”

Her eyes widened. “Jeez.”

“Yeah it’s rough.” He shook his head. The couple continued their chit chat as y/n slowly tucked herself into his bed. Charles sat on the other side of the bed, pulling out a carton of strawberries. “Here.” He gestured her to open her mouth and slowly fed her the fruit. 

“God, that's good.” Her eyes fluttered.

“You need to request some for your room next time.” He smiled. Her mouth formed a line as she delved deeper under the covers, turning the lamp on her nightstand off. She kept her eyes closed for a couple of minutes before feeling Charles’ arms wrap around her. She nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck. “I love you.” He mumbled.

“I love you too.” 

Y/n pulled on a Mclaren shirt and a pair of jeans. “Fuck.” Charles cursed. “What is it?” She folded her collar before checking on him.

“It’s going to be over 100 degrees in that car tonight.”

“It’ll be fine.” She shrugged.

“Do you know how hot that is?” His face was deadpan.

“I’ll figure it out.” She joked.

“No. You’ll drink water and you’re going to eat breakfast with me so I know you eat before the race.”

“Calm down.” She folded her sleeping shirt, breathily laughing.

“This isn’t a joke you could seriously get hurt.”

“Okay.” She played along with his seriousness.

Charles had watched her eat breakfast before they got to track and he had to say his goodbyes. They did their pre-race ritual together. She hugged him, racing suit tied at her waist, his tied the same way. “Be mindful today.” He whispered into her ear. “Be safe.” He reaffirmed.

“You too, Charlie.” She kept a hand in his hair. 

“I have to go.” He kissed her quickly. “I love you no matter what.

“I love you.” She tugged at his hand before letting him go. 

Y/n’s engineer came to see her in the car before the race started. “Drink. That's all I ask of you.” He fastened the bottle of water into the car. “If you begin to feel sick at all, radio us. It is going to be up to 120 degrees in that car, we are not going to blame you for any safe moves. We want you to be safe.” He gave her gloved hand a squeeze. She nodded, pulling her visor down.

She had a good start to the race, keeping her starting position. 10 laps in she called in.

“The visor is super foggy, guys. It’s sweaty in here!” She half-joked.

“Try to wipe it when possible.” Someone responded.

After 40 laps she was told to pit. 

“Pit.Pit.”

“Okay.” Her breath was shaky. “Yeah, the hard tyres wore out pretty quickly.” She tried straightening out her breathing patterns. Drink. She tried to will herself, but her body wouldn’t do it. It was too focused on other things.  She had dropped down to fourth place, behind Lance Stroll. “My seat feels like it’s on fire!”

“Do you need to retire?” Zak responded.

“No, just throw some water on me or something!” 

It was lap 56, two laps left and she had caught up to Lance. 

“He’s struggling on these corners.”

“Be careful around him.” Her engineer radioed. “Something must be wrong, he’s acting erratically.”

She was able to overtake him.

Lap 57. Last lap. Last turn. Y/n reached the final straight.

“P3, P3!” People cheered over the comms, but she swore it was muffled. Everything was blurry as she pulled into the space dedicated to 3rd. She noticed her lover's red car in 2nd and Max Verstappens in first. Charles took his helmet and balaclava off, shaking  the hand of Max. The commentator waiting for interviews began to grow concerned when the third driver had still not gotten out of her car. He whispered around and soon enough word got around to the drivers. She reached her hand up to grasp onto the halo, but fell short.

“Y/n.” Charles peered into the car.

“Yes?” She wheezed. “Just-Just give me a minute-to-get out…” She began to grab at the car again. Multiple stewards gathered around her, plus Max and Charles. Charles placed his hands underneath her arms and pulled her up. “I got sick in my helmet.” She coughed. 

“Shhh…” He took off her helmet quickly. A stretcher was brought to her. 

“I don’t want to leave.” She hiccuped. “I have a podium to cele-” She dry-heaved, nothing to throw up, “Celebrate.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” He pleaded with her to get her onto the stretcher. Her face turned ghost-white.

“I’m really scared.” She whimpered. “And-and I feel like I’m going to faint.” Charles placed his hand behind her head as her body went limp, heart breaking while paramedics attending to her vitals. It was a scene for sure. Blue and red lights from an ambulance blocked the screen below the podium, people from Mclaren that were preparing for a podium celebration were now freaking out for their driver, and Charles Leclerc seemed to be the most worried for someone who wasn’t even his teammate. Those who could only see in from the outside watched as he brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead before composing himself. Love. 

“I’m going to come see you as soon as I can get out of here.” He assured her. “I’m sure everyone will.” Throughout the interviews and the celebrations Charles bit his tongue. He noticed the other worn out drivers. Lance had passed out on the corners towards the end of the race, Logan had to retire, Esteban got sick in his helmet, and the rest of the grid was laying on the floor with wet towels and gallons of water. This was just unsafe. He got away from the track as soon as possible, rushing to the hospital. “Y/n.” 

Tears filled her eyes as she saw him enter the room. “Charlie.” She dropped the strawberry in her hands. He rushed to her, quickly but carefully embracing her. The doctor came in, informing him that she was dehydrated and hadn’t had enough protein. She listened as Charles, the entire grid of drivers, and her trainer coached her on how important a meal plan is and how a meal is not something you can forget. That night Lando fell asleep on the couch and Charles held her as tight as he could.

[cllightning81]

Panic - Part Four

Series Title : Younger Sister

Summary : Carlos is out ill and while Lando worries about him Ollie appears at your hotel room stressing because he now has to race

Pairing/s : Oliver Bearman x Norris!Reader

Word Count : 2.1k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Oliver Bearman Masterlist

Lando Norris Masterlist

Previous

It had been a couple of months since the British Grand Prix, and it was now the Hungary Grand Prix. Staying in a hotel room with Lando had become normal, and you stopped bothering about it because, actually, it was nice. Having someone to talk to at all times but also knew that quiet was a good thing. Not only that, but both you and Lando had the same energy levels, which meant there was always something chaotic going on in that room. 

Lando had left a little early so that he could go to the gym before coming back to get you before finally going to the paddock so you were sat scrolling on social media waiting for Lando to get back when there was a knock on the door making you wander over to it as whoever was waiting on the other side kept knocking. Looking through the peephole, Ollie was standing on the other side, so obviously, you opened the door 

“Ollie are you okay?” You asked, looking him up and down for any visible injuries as he walked past you into the hotel room, obviously finding it extremely hard to stay still 

“My parents' flight is delayed. I flew out with Ferrari cause I can but it’s delayed and I’m racing and there’s no one in the garage for me and I don’t know what to do cause its my first ever F1 race and I’ve only ever done practice and help” He rushed out and you looked at him taking everything in that he’d previously just flew at you

“Y/N say something” He whispered, rubbing his face as he paced the room 

“Your parent’s flights are delayed, well that’s okay cause they’ll be here. Flights get delayed all the time. You race all the time without your parents there you qualified on pole yesterday” You rubbed his arm, looking up at him. Why did he have to be so tall? It made comforting him so much harder. 

“Yeah but that’s F2 Y/N. This is F1” He whispered, and you looked up at him 

“Wait what? You’re racing in Formula One?” You exclaimed, taking a step back as he nodded “Okay well today's practice and quali. Wait who’s out?” You asked, confused 

“Carlos. Something about his appendix. He hadn’t been well all week” He explained, and you nodded

“I’ve never raced in his car, and I’ve never raced with his wheel, and I don’t know what to do Y/N” He whispered, and you wrapped your arms around him 

“Well lucky for you, my brother just so happens to be a Formula One driver on the weekends” you joked, and he laughed. You smiled up at him.

“I’ll come stand in the Ferrari garage, Ollie. Please don’t worry about it. The more you worry about it, the more you stress, which leads to bad racing and crashes. Ollie, they have so many drivers they could have put you in that seat, but they picked you, which means they trust you, so you need to enjoy the fact that you’re racing in Formula One!” You smiled, and he nodded 

“I’m racing in Formula One” He mumbled and you smiled watching him now enjoy the fact that he’s actually racing and he’s reached his dream even if it’s not the way he wanted to. Ollie hugged you back with a smile 

“What’s going on here?” Lando’s voice came as you turned to look at him 

“Ollie’s racing in Formula One” you cheered, bouncing over to Lando, who caught you very much used to the energy you have 

“Hey, that's a great man. You’ll do great, just remember to breathe because I forgot to do that the first time” Lando chuckled, placing you back on the ground 

“I’m gonna go shower, then we can get to the paddock” Lando walked into the bathroom, and you hugged Ollie again 

“You should go get ready for the day, but if you want me there, then just give me a text, okay?” You smiled, and he nodded 

“Thank you for that. I needed someone to rationalise my thoughts” You nodded, holding his hand 

“Don’t worry about it. If you’ve not already had a shower today, then go take a nice cold one, drink a bottle of water, and remember to enjoy yourself” You smiled, and he nodded, walking over to the door. You followed behind him with a smile 

“You’re great at the calming down thing” He smiled, and you chuckled 

“I do my best” Ollie walked back to his hotel room as you sat on the bed on your phone, going back to waiting on Lando. When Lando finally walked out the bathroom dressed in his Mclaren uniform, you jumped over to him with a smile  

“You’re so happy today? What have I missed?” He asked, confused 

“Can’t I be happy?” You asked following him out of the hotel room 

“You’re normally hyper, but you seem more hyper than normal” he shrugged 

“Maybe I’m a little happy that Ollie is racing today” You shrugged 

“You like him” He teased poking you in the side

“He’s just a friend” You shrugged

“We’re the same age it’s nice to hang out with someone my own age while following you about the world” 

“Mhm whatever you say. I like him, by the way” He shrugged, pressing the button in the elevator, leaning against the bannister in the elevator as it moved 

“I’m glad you like him” You rolled your eyes, stepping out the elevator and following him out to the Mclaren car awaiting his arrival. Oscar already sat inside, waiting for you both. Getting in the car, Lando forced you to sit in the middle of them, so with a huff, you complied. 

“Y/N has a boyfriend” Lando hummed, wiggling his eyebrows 

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends” you whined, shoving him away 

“Ohh who?” Oscar asked 

“Ollie. He showed up at our room this morning” Lando hummed 

“He showed up because his parents were in England, and Ferrari just called him up” You rolled your eyes 

“Wait, who's not racing, by the way?” Lando asked 

“Carlos. Something to do with his appendix” you shrugged, and Lando instantly pulled his phone out of his pocket, panicking.

“Oh forgot about your boyfriend” You rolled his eyes, and he ignored your comment as Oscar laughed. 

Standing in the Ferrari garage felt wrong. Surrounded by red instead of papaya, but it was for Ollie, who was pacing about the place stressed before FP3. Everyone’s eyes were on him after the announcement that he was now driving. Ollie had taken to pacing three small steps slightly in front of you as he spoke to some members of the team. 

Walking over to him gently wrapping your arms around his waist as your cheek rested against his back he tensed up for a second before his hands rested on top of yours and he relaxed now standing in the one place as he spoke to the team member causing you to smile that he was no longer burning a hole in the floor. 

You missed the cameras outside as you kept your arms around Ollie’s waist, but you certainly didn’t miss your phone exploding in your pocket. Charles smiled at you as he walked past back to his driver's room. 

“Hey why don’t you go into the drivers room and relax Ollie” one of the trainers said, joining the small group as Ollie nodded, taking you to the drivers room with him. Sitting on the small beanbag, you smiled at him. 

“You didn’t have to do that” He sat next to you, and you shrugged 

“You were burning a hole in the floor, and I know that you don’t make enough to pay for that” you joked, and he chuckled. 

“Thank you, though. I’m so stressed about today” You smiled softly, turning to him 

“I’ll make a deal with you” you hummed, and he nodded 

“Okay?” He frowned 

“If you get P15 or above in Quali I’ll go on a date with you. If you get P10 or above in the actual race, then I’ll go on two” You hummed, and he turned to you 

“Can I change that deal?” He asked, and you nodded slightly 

“Depends on what you want to change it to” You hummed 

“P15 or above in Quali a date tonight. P10 or above in the race and you become my girlfriend” You quickly turned to look at him 

“What?” You asked, confused. It wasn’t that you didn’t find yourself attractive or other people didn't. It was just that you’d never had a proper boyfriend before. Just teenage boys who wanted to one up their friends in their relationships. 

“Well obviously if I get that high, then I’ll ask you properly and take you on that second date, but obviously, if you don’t want to agree to my deal, then that’s okay. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to and I’d hate for you to feel uncomfortable while you’re here making me feel like I’ve been racing in Formula one forever” He blurted going off on whatever he was saying with. Gently placing a hand on the side of his face to pull him back into the drivers room, he looked at you. 

“Olls. Please take a deep breath with me. I’d love to agree to your deal. I just didn’t want you to feel like I was forcing you into anything and we all know that I’m not just with you for money or anything like that cause that’s what older brothers are for” You joked and he chuckled 

“Well I guess I’ll be taking you on a couple of dates then” He hummed, and you chuckled 

“Cocky much” you joked, and he smiled 

“I’ll see you after FP3, right?” He asked, and you nodded 

“Of course you will and after FP3. We’re going to get lunch together” You smiled, and he walked out of the drivers room after pressing a kiss to your head. Finally checking your phone just to see a billion texts. 

Before you knew it, you were watching Quali, and it was the most stressful thing you’d ever watched. Not only was your older brother racing, but Ollie was doing his first ever F1 race and Quali. Ollie’s dad had arrived at the garage just as Ollie went out for Q1, so now he was standing next to you. 

David was stressing more than Ollie was this morning. Ollie got slightly close to the wall just as the cameras turned into the Ferrari garage catching David's face as it happened although you were just as stressed except you had a lot more practice at hiding it after watching races with people from school. David, on the other hand, was new to close family members racing in formula one. 

Ollie got himself through Q1 in P9 and into Q2. David walked over to Ollie’s car to say that he was here and to just focus on the race. You could see Oliver’s eyes as he pushed the visor on his helmet up. The stress that previously showed was no longer there. He looked like a kid in a sweet shop, and you couldn’t be prouder. 

Q2 started, and David took his place standing at the back next to you. The fifteen minutes of Q2 was soon over and Ollie was unfortunately knocked out in P11 but he was a few hundredths of a second away from knocking Sir Lewis Hamilton out of qualifying that was something to be proud of. 

Racing drivers had this thing where even when they drove exceptionally well they’d still beat themselves up even if there was nothing else they could have done and you knew by the look in Oliver’s eyes he was going to do exactly that except you now had practice and a deal you could cheer him up with. 

You smiled, giving Ollie a hug as he walked over after he got out of the car. He was sweaty, but it made you happy to see the happiness on his face. Like seeing Lando doing something he loved. 

“You did so well, Olls. You almost knocked Hamilton out. If you had another flying lap, you would have!” You exclaimed, and he smiled 

“You should go along to Mclaren while I do post Quali interviews. I know Lando would love to have you there, and Max is here today isn’t he?” He asked, and you nodded 

“The whole of Quadrant is here today. Something about Hungary being a good place for a new video? I don’t know. They tried to get me in it, but I refused” You chuckled, and he smiled 

“Be ready for seven?” He asked, and you nodded 

“You know where my room is” You walked along to the Mclaren garage with a smile hugging Max as you stood in hospitality with him and the rest of Quadrant. Ria smiled at you as everyone else was far too focused on Q3 that had just started.

Previous Next

Taglist

@bearryyy

@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@seasonswinter

@ellen3101

@via-ferns

@taygrls

@urfavsgf

@hwalllllllelujah

@vicurious28

@ririyulife

@taronyuhunter

@llando4norris

@sbrn0905

@evie-119

@harrysdimple05

@jisungstuff

[thepersonnamedsam]

baby me - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: charles had a bad race in spain and wants to be babied afterwards

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, xavi (bc he seems to be a trigger warning himself) and some google translated french

note: i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

masterlist / taglist

You watched FP1 and FP2 in your hotel room. The steam of your freshly hot shower was still lingering as you watched the cars drive in circles. It had went okay for Charles, not the best but also not the worst.

You watched FP3 from the Ferrari Motorhome. It went okay, with Charles at P7 Carlos at P4. Usually you would’ve watched the race from the stands with Isa, but something happened between her and Carlos some time before Spain. Charles had promised you all the gossip after the race. But with a qualifying like this? You’d doubt he’d tell you all the juicy details.

It was qualifying who hurt the most. It started to rain and nobody really got a good lap in before driver by driver retired from the race, so did Charles. Just, he was P19. Your heart hurt, clenched for your boyfriend. You knew he would be disappointed in himself.

You waited in the garage, Xavi was standing next to you and talked something about strategy to you. But you didn’t listen, you just waited for him to come back. When he did, he crumbled in your arms. You didn’t know if sweat droplets or tears hit your shoulders. Anyway you comforted the Ferrari driver as best as you could.

As he was taken to the car by his engineers, you gave him a good luck kiss and held on to his Forza Ferrari bracelet.

You didn’t really pay attention, well you did, but your focus wasn’t always on the TV i front of you. Every time they didn’t focus on Charles, your eyes drifted around the garage and you found something else that interested you more. As you watched the TV once more, you saw Charles was P7! He was in the points! He did it, he went from P19 to P7. He had done it again, he is sich’s brilliant driver. But then you heard Xavi talking to him. He told him to box. You heard your boyfriend complain about the tire change over the coms, but they changed them anyway.

That’s when it happened, he dropped out of the points again. Fucking Xavi. In the end, Charles finished the race with P11, which was a good progression, but still disappointing, at least for your boyfriend.

You waited for him. Waited until he finished his media duties. Waited for him to pack up and change back into his normal clothes. You waited for him to fall into your arms.

„Bébé, I want to go home. Please.“ You never heard this much sadness in his voice. It broke your heart. He was your everything and seeing him like this was the worst.

„Aww chéri, of course, I’ll take you home“, you whispered to him. His head laid on your shoulders. A déjà vu hit you, as you felt your freshly dried shoulder getting wet again. But this time you knew it wasn’t his sweat. You sighed, your arms stretched around his upper body.

„C’mon, ma lune my moon, let’s go to the hotel“, you told him and took him by his hand. Out of the paddock and in front of the car, you waited for him to get in the drivers seat.

„I don’t wanna drive anymore“, he said and threw the keys to you. You giggled a bit and changed sides with him. He almost never lets you drive, well usually you didn’t like to drive, but when you would like to drive, he mostly doesn’t let you. So, you take it with honour.

The ride was short and you were soon in the elevator up to your room. Charles looked tired, he was always tired after a race, but he seemed different tired. Like ‚tired of the world’ tired. He just seemed so, how could you best describe it? He just seemed so down. Like nothing could disappoint him anymore. As MJ from Spider-Man said: „If you expect disappointment you’ll never actually disappointed.“ You thought that this was exactly how Charles views his life at the moment.

His body seemed skunked down and his eyes deep in his socket. You saw the dark circles under his eyes, the gray hairs that are starting to grow and all the stress pimples on his face. You could’ve cried at his sight.

As the doors closed on the elevator, he leaned his body on yours. Your nails were scratching his back, up and down. You hummed lightly, doing the thing your mother used to do, when you were in a bad mood. You tried to soothe him. Did it work? You had no idea.

The ping of the elevator brought you back to reality and you took Charles by his hand and led him to your room.

„Peux-tu me chérir? Can you baby me?“, he asked you, as you closed the door. You took your shoes and jacket off. You did the same to Charles, his hoodie slipped right off his body and the jeans were long gone. Nothing was sexual about this, not even in the slightest. You gave Charles a big smooch and told him to wait for you.

The bathroom was big and bright, that’s why you tried to find some candles or something like candles - something that would dim the place a bit. The only thing you found were the lamps on your nightstands.

You ran a bath, put some bubbles in and ordered Charles to join you in the bathtub. You always took some face masks with you. Charles closed his eyes as you put it on his face. „My pretty baby“, you cooed. He was truly magnificent. „Let’s take a relaxing bath, yeah?“

You climbed into the tub first, you let him rest his back on your chest. Again, there was nothing sexual about this. He soon changed the position and laid his head on your chest. Your hands around his back, you scratched his skin with your nails. They left thin red marks on it. His arms were stretched around your shoulders and he squeezed them to his body.

You reached to the shampoo on the side and you squirted some on your hand. You rubbed them together and massaged his head. He sighed. His body visibly relaxed, slouched against yours. The mood lifted and you could feel his heart starting to beat slower. You were glad that he started to relax.

You removed his face mask, massaging the rest of the serum into his skin. „Mon joli bébé my beautiful baby“, you murmured, „you deserve the world, chéri.“ He breathed heavily, almost on the verge of crying again, but he held himself back.

„Mon soleil my sun, let it out, it’s okay“, you reassured him and the dam broke. His sobs broke your heart, it clenched for him. You’d do anything- you’d give anything for his happiness.

„Baby, c’mon, I’m gonna wash your hair real quick and we’ll get out and go to bed m, sound good?“, you asked him and he just nodded. You washed his hair and dried him when he stepped out of the tub - just like a baby.

His body still slummed agains yours, he leaned all his weight on you and you were happy to carry it for him. You rubbed his shoulders, humming a soothing tune again.

„Allez petit garçon c’mon little boy, let’s go to bed“, you ordered him to bed. The white and soft cushions seemed so inviting. The satin covers soft against your newly washed skin. You both sighed as you sunk into the bed. The heaviness of the day only seemed to kick in now. Your shoulders stiff and heavy but it was okay - it was okay because of him. You did it all for him.

You both snuggled into the bed, his head laid on your chest, again, and your hands in his hair - scratching and tugging. „I love you, je t‘aime tellement I love you so much“, you told him.

„I love you more, mon amour my love. And I am so grateful for you. Thank you.��

°°°

taglist: @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @topguncultleader , @ironmaiden1313

[captain-hawks]

Happy spicy, sweaty sleepover!

I just know you’ll write something so, so delightful for band!AU Jean with a broken AC. Like, I know know it.

💋mojogojocasahouse

jean kirstein x f!reader

c: 18+ only, exes to lovers speed run, band!au jean, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, anal fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION

There has to be correlation, somewhere, between one’s innate penchant for masochism and the subsequently awful, irresponsible, downright terrible decision to call one’s ex-boyfriend to help fix a busted appliance.

But alas, here you are, sweating to death in the midst of the worst heat wave the city’s seen in years with no qualified, local repairman available any time in the foreseeable future—because clearly your broken air conditioner is somehow considered fucking trendy right now. 

The thing is, it’s not the first time the machine has let out an ominous death rattle before the motor inside fell into an ominous silence. It’s not even the second time it’s happened, or the third.

But every other goddamn time it did, Jean still lived here in your shared apartment. And his deft fingers, paired with years of tinkering with guitars, amps, speakers, and pedal boards, somehow led him to find the fix time and time again. 

It’s been three months since your messy breakup, three months of deafening silence and empty space in your one-bedroom apartment. He’s been living with Eren and Conny, though half of his clothes are still strewn about in your closet—until he finds his own place. 

You have half a mind to drag the pile out shirts out and toss them at him one by one, if only to cover up the torturous sight you’ve been subjected to for the better part of an hour.

Jean Kirstein, for all intents and purposes, is an attractive man. And you were prepared for it, the slight inconvenience of the sight of his soft brown hair, sharp jaw, intense eyes, and tall form standing in the hallway when you opened the front door.

But Jean Kirstein standing in the middle of your living room, muttering a string of expletives under his breath as he swiftly bats a hand against the temperamental air conditioner before standing up straight to peel off his soaked t-shirt? The reminder of the way the tattoos covering his arms and chest and back look when they’re coated in a slick sheen of sweat? The ripple of his muscles as he twists a wrench? 

That’s another fucking problem entirely.

“You don’t look too hot.”

Jean’s voice spears through your thoughts, and you look up from where your hands are folded in your lap to see him standing in front of you in the kitchen. Seated atop the kitchen counter if only for the relief of the cool marble beneath you, one of your idly swinging feet nudges his knee. 

His voice is a bit rough, and you can only assume that he came right to your apartment from band practice. 

(You try not to think too hard about how he knows exactly what that voice does to you—the way you barely made it past the entryway most times coming home after his shows, your skirt shoved up as he fucked you up against the wall beside the coat rack.)

(The way he’d call you late at night while he was away on tour, his voice a low rasp as you hung on to his every word and touched yourself for him.)

“I’m very hot, actually,” you reply with a raised brow, though you’re well aware you probably do look like an overheated, exhausted mess—you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all week, even with a fan right beside your bed. 

Jean steps closer and leans in, standing between your spread legs, and your heart feels like its lodged in your throat as he holds your gaze. Slowly, he brings his hand up to rest against the side of your neck, fingers easing their way against your damp skin one by one in a way that makes your breath catch. 

“You should take a cool shower,” he suggests, his thumb ghosting over the front of your throat before he swiftly steps back and walks away, heading back into the living room.

Fingers clasping the edge of the countertop, you inhale sharply.

Admittedly, Jean was right about the shower—you feel a bit more steady on your feet as the water washes over your face and trickles down your naked body, washing away the uncomfortable, sticky layer of sweat. 

Maybe it’s a little misguided, the way you let your thoughts get away from you as you glance down at your soapy tits, remembering how much Jean used to love how sensitive they are. How he’d groan and curse over the way you’d writhe when he toyed with your pebbled nipples, the way you’d whimper and moan as he sucked on them.

Running your hands over the swell of your breasts, you sigh, letting your back rest against the cool tiles as you stroke and tease the tender buds until they’re rock hard beneath your touch. You grope and caress yourself, imagining that it’s Jean in the shower with you.

You're tempted to make a mad dash for your room, to lock the door and stuff the fat dildo in your bedside table into your wet cunt, to quickly fuck yourself on it until you’re sated enough to face the shirtless man in your living room without being distracted by stray thoughts of laving your tongue against the hollow of his throat.

It’s a half-baked plan seasoned with nothing but the delirious power of your lust-driven thoughts.

It's stupid.

It’s reckless.

And it almost fucking works, almost, until Jean suddenly comes barging into the bedroom in the middle of you face down on the bed, frantically humping the dildo like your life depends on it, the slick silicone lubricated on nothing but your gushing arousal. 

Jean stops dead in his tracks and stares at you, speechless for what may very well be the first time in his life.

You stare back at him, shaken from your stupor only when the dildo suddenly slides out of your pussy with a lewd popping sound. 

“Jean, what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, some part of you almost proud of how steady your voice comes out.

He blinks several times. “I needed a new shirt,” he gestures toward the door, “and the bathroom door is shut, I thought you were still in there.”

You blink back at him, all too aware of the filthy, slick arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. “Oh.”

He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, toward the closet, and then back to you. “Do you…” he trails off.

“Do I…”

“—need a hand?”

You could probably blame it on the heat, the way you almost robotically nod. The way you hardly bat an eye when Jean climbs up on the bed behind you.

It’s surely a symptom of heat exhaustion, perching on all fours atop your mattress as your ex-boyfriend presses a hand into the small of your back while he thrusts a dildo in and out of your sopping wet cunt.

That stupid fucking air conditioner is definitely, absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt to blame for what happens next—when you flip over onto your back and spread your legs wide, gazing up at Jean’s lust-blown pupils as he continues to fuck you with the toy.

Your breakup was so goddamn stupid and petty and shortsighted—and you were both too stubborn to admit it in the aftermath. 

“Please let me eat you out,” Jean exhales, dragging a hand through his messy brown hair to push it out of his face.

You nod, fervently, though you’re still tempted to drag his hips flush against yours, to tell him how badly you need to be fucked instead. 

But when he laps a broad, firm stroke through your slick, creamy folds with his dexterous tongue, your mind goes blank in a haze of pleasure. 

Jean has always been far too good at this.

He alternates between lapping at your slit and licking his way into your tight entrance, and sucking on your clit as he plunges two long digits in and out of your wet hole, one hand splayed across your abdomen to hold you down as you whimper and buck your hips.

“You taste so good,” Jean groans, his own hips jerking into the mattress as you gasp, your entire body arching up off of the bed when one of his slick fingers slides beneath you and begins to stroke the rim of your ass.

He eases your other tight hole open, saliva and your sticky arousal running down his chin as he messily fucks your cunt with his tongue.

“Jean,” you gasp when he finally sinks a finger deep in your ass, your gut engulfed in a wave of white-hot pleasure.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, tongue tracing firm circles against your clit while he curls his fingers and strokes the spongy, sensitive wall atop your tight channel.

You come with a shout as the coil of pleasure inside of you snaps, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you tremble and shake and gush all over Jean’s fingers and face. 

“Holy shit,” Jean groans, hips rocking even harder into the bed—it always did drive him out of his mind when you squirted.

As you come down from your orgasm, Jean leans back into a sitting position, unzipping his pants and letting his throbbing, hard cock spring free from the confines of his boxers. He crudely spits into the palm of his hand, groaning your name as he tosses his head back and begins to fuck his fist, spreading the precum leaking from his tip with his thumb. 

You don’t think twice about the way you scramble forward and climb into his lap, nudging away his hand and wrapping your fingers around his length. 

Waiting a beat, you meet his gaze, somehow still not entirely sure if he actually wants to fuck you.

Jean chokes out a laugh, reading the uncertainty in your eyes and reaching up to cup the side of your face before he leans in to rest his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, words he stubbornly couldn’t bring himself to say months ago.

“I’m sorry, too,” you murmur, and you mean it.

And then all it takes is the familiar grip of his hands on your hips to guide you down onto his cock, your cunt rapidly pulsing and contracting at the searing, intoxicating stretch, and both of you moan in unison.

Jean kisses you hard, his mouth engulfing yours and swallowing down the gasping, whimpering sounds you make as he fucks up into you, bullying his cock as deep as your greedy, needy pussy will take.

“I fucking missed you so much,” he rasps, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, one hand reaching up to grasp your tits.

It’s so goddamn hot in your bedroom, and it’s downright filthy, the slick slide of Jean’s sweat-soaked skin against yours, the way his hair is damp with it, the salt you taste on your tongue as you press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the tattoo that wraps around the side of his neck.

It’s hot and filthy and sweaty and you’re not sure if you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so ridiculously wet, each plunge of Jean’s cock punctuated by the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy. 

“Jean—” you whine, dizzy with desperation and need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, cradling your body as he switches your position, laying you down flat on your back as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

And maybe it’s the way he begins to toy with your clit again.

Maybe it’s the sight of the creamy ring of your arousal coating the base of his cock.

Maybe it’s the look in his eyes as he stares down at you beneath him.

—either way, you’re helpless to do anything but cry out and moan as another orgasm breaks through the heady dam of pleasure flowing inside of you, your vision nearly going black as he fucks you through it.

And you can tell he’s close, too, you can feel it in the way his thrusts suddenly grow sloppy, the way his breathing goes ragged.

“Inside,” you breathe out.

Jean’s answering groan is absolutely wrecked as he slams his cock in you to the hilt, spilling rope after rope of thick, hot cum in your fucked out cunt until it’s overflowing and dripping onto the sheets below.

When he eventually collapses beside you on the bed, you’re not sure if it’s intentional—the fact that he ends up on the side that was always his. 

But you don’t question it, not now.

Not later when the morning sun is peeking through the blinds and he’s snoring softly beside you.

Not even when you wake again to the sound of the air conditioner sputtering to life in the living room, the mattress dipping beside you as Jean pulls back the sheet and tugs you back against his chest.

[odigaon]

gym pics

summary: your boyfriend decides to post a not so innocent picture on bubble and you can’t resist him.

pairing(s): oh seungmin x afab! reader

warnings: unprotected sex (i think this is really the only one)

word count: 2.8k

unedited!

Waking up to a noisy notification on your phone was not how you really wanted to start your day. The brief nap you had managed to slip in after getting your daily to do list done ended up lasting far longer than you meant it to and left you feeling groggy rather than refreshed. Blinking your eyes open slowly, you blindly slide your hand across your bed to reach your phone.

Coming to the realization that it was a bubble message makes you smile to yourself, “Probably just one of the guys updating villains on what they’ve done today,”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the heart attack waiting for you after your phone unlocks and opens to the bubble app.

Your boyfriend Seungmin, shirtless, covered in sweat, and a magic 8 ball sticker covering his face. Holy hell. This was NOT what you expected to wake up to. Frantically closing and reopening the app, you’re met with the same exact sight. Your boyfriend, looking absolutely scrumptious. You admittedly stare at that picture longer than you needed to. I mean, who wouldn’t? Every single villain is probably having the same thoughts about Seungmin that you are right now which undoubtedly makes you a little jealous, however, you can actually do something about it.

Quickly hopping out of bed and striding over to your dresser, you pull out a simple t-shirt that once was Seungmin’s and a pair of exercise shorts. You debate on whether to change your steadily dampening underwear, but ultimately decide to leave it on as a little surprise for your boyfriend. You shoot a quick text to Seungmin to let him know that you had woken up from your nap and were on the way to the company to join him at the gym. After pulling on your clothes and throwing your hair up in a small ponytail you receive a text from your boyfriend.

“oh baby you don’t have to come here if you just woke up! it’s getting late so I’ll probably be leaving here soon anyways.”

A small pout frames your face at that, but you understand that he’s been hard at work all day so you don’t want to keep him there any longer than he wants to be.

“oh okay. do you wanna come over after you’re done? i miss you :(.”

“of course i wanna come see my baby! i’ll be there soon, my love :).”

At that you sigh happily, missing him was sometimes hard on you. Lately with the group’s comeback coming up you haven’t gotten to see Seungmin nearly enough to satisfy your craving for him. Laying back down on your bed, you decide to turn on the TV and wait for Seungmin to arrive at your apartment.

After about an hour, you hear your front door close and Seungmin call out for you, “Jagiya? Are you awake?” Lifting your head up off the pillow and turning down the volume on the TV, you call back to him, “In my room, babe!” You hear his footsteps start down the hall and continuously grow louder until they stop just outside your door.

“Knock knock?” he says whilst pushing your door open.

He softly walks into your bedroom and closes the door behind him, leaving him standing in front of you in a pair of black sweats, a white tank top, and a black jacket. God you could really jump his bones right at this moment.

“You know it doesn’t really qualify as knocking if you don’t actually knock?”

A small giggle leaves him at that. After shucking off his jacket and laying it on your desk chair, he starts to walk over to you to give you a quick kiss before going to shower.

“You comfy in there?”

You sure as hell are. You’ve wrapped yourself in a cocoon of blankets, but little does he know, you’ve given yourself just enough wiggle room to where you can thrust your arms out and wrap Seungmin up before he can run off.

He leans over you and places his left hand next to the right side of your body and his right to the left side of your head.

“Have you had a good day today?” he asks in a soft voice.

“Yeah. I just ran some errands and cleaned up around the house. Dee has been out all day with Junhan.”

“Oh yeah? Well we know what they’ve been up to then, huh?”

You laugh a little at that. Yeah, you know what they’ve gotten up to. The periodic texts from your best friend let you know that they had went out and run some errands of their own, and then went back to the dorm and fucked for hours on end.

Seungmin smiles at you and begins to lean down towards your face to give your long awaited kiss and you decide to make your move.

“OOMF!”

You shoot your arms out of the blanket and trap them around Seungmin’s neck; effectively startling him and allowing you to trap him against your chest for a brief moment. Using all the leverage your body can muster, you roll over with Seungmin so you can trap him beneath you.

“What the h-”

“What the fuck was that picture you sent on bubble today Oh Seungmin? Huh? Do you want me to die? Do you want me to kill YOU?”

His whole chest starts to shudder with laughter.

“Ah I forgot you had my bubble, baby. Did you like it?”

“Did I like it? Are you serious right now?”

You sit up so you’re straddling his abs. Seungmin starts to let his hands travel up your legs and up to your waist where his hands seem to have a mind of their own and begin to rub your hips. It doesn’t even seem like he’s paying attention to you anymore. His eyes have begun to rake up and down your form sitting atop him.

“Fuck is that my shirt baby? And my favorite shorts?”

His hands reach around to grab a handful of your ass. Now this was not a part of your plan. You were supposed to fluster Seungmin and be in control of the situation; not the other way around. The smallest moan escapes your lips and you pray Seungmin doesn’t hear, but unfortunately the way his eyes find yours tells you that he in fact did. His hands travel back to your hips and gently push at them until you’re forced shimmy backwards: directly over his hardening cock that you can feel perfectly through his sweats and your thin exercise shorts. Your tongue darts out to lick your suddenly dry lips before Seungmin sits up and captures your lips with his. A surprised moan leaves you but is muffled by Seungmin’s mouth against yours.

“Mi-Min ah fuck, please,” you whisper after you manage to part from Seungmin for a brief second. You’re not even quite sure what you’re begging him for, but you know what you want the end result to be: his cock inside you.

You feel his hands start to slowly grind your hips back and forth over top his hips. Grunts begin to leave his mouth as he quickens your pace. Your hands begin to fumble around searching for the hem of his tank top. When you finally find it, you begin to frantically tug at it to alert Seungmin of your desire to rid him of it. After finally taking the hint, he pulls away from you in order to pull the piece of clothing over his head and toss it away from your figures. He then goes for the hem of your shirt and tugs it off of you along with your sports bra before pulling you back into him. His lips slowly and sensually move against yours before his tongue slips out to attempt to part your lips. Allowing him entrance, your tongues begin to dance around each other.

Before long, he’s flipping the two of you over and trailing kisses down your body. Quiet moans are leaving you at your boyfriend’s sensual touches. He reaches the waistline of your shorts and you lock eyes with him before he smirks and begins to pull them and your underwear off you.

Spreading your legs so he can get a good look at your pussy, he starts trailing his lips and fingers up and down your inner thighs to tease you.

“Min. Please. I’m begging you not to tease me,” you muster.

“What? My baby doesn’t like it when I tease her?” he chuckles.

“No please Min. I need you.”

At that, he pushes his arms underneath your thighs and throws your legs over his shoulders, grabs your ass, and buries his face in your pussy. God that tongue of his. It’s working magic over your clit and across your folds. His lips then wrap around your clit and begin to suckle lightly while his right hand leaves your ass and begins to make its way to your entrance. His middle finger circles your entrance before slowly pushing in and out to stretch you out and prepare you for a second finger. Even with one finger you’re already keening and beginning to feel the first effects of your orgasm creeping up on you. After pushing a second finger in, you realize that the picture Seungmin posted on bubble must’ve really affected you a lot more than you think. Your orgasm is already fast-approaching and Seungmin isn’t showing any signs of edging you like he normally does.

“Mi-Min ah. I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me baby?”

“Are you gonna let me?”

“I’m feeling nice tonight. Cum whenever you want baby.” he says just before reattaching his mouth to your clit.

That’s all you need to hear before the floodgates are opening and you’re releasing all over Seungmin’s face. He stays between your legs while you ride out your orgasm and only stops once you start to twitch out of oversensitivity.

“Feeling good baby?”

“Yeah,” you moan out, “I want more, Min.”

“More? What more could you possibly want, huh?” he teases.

“Please Min, don't make me beg.”

“I let you cum whenever you wanted. The least you could do is beg for it a little.”

You sigh out. Of course he’s going to make you beg for it. Nothing is easy with Seungmin when it comes to sex.

“Please Min I want it so bad. Wan’ your cock inside me. Wanna cum on your cock and be good for you, please. Wanna make you feel good, Minnie.”

He groans a little at your begging and pushes himself up to strip off his remaining clothes. Afterwards, he kneels in front of you in all his naked glory, with one hand wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping himself to get ready to finally push inside you.

When he finally does, it feels like heaven. The groan Seungmin lets out is magnificent and your pussy is wetly clamping down on his cock and making it harder for him to push further inside.

“Ah ah baby. Relax for me, beautiful. Can’t fuck you how you want if you don’t let me in.”

You whine at that and try your best to relax yourself. Eventually, the tenseness leaves your body and Seungmin promptly begins to slowly fuck into you.

“There we go, baby. I knew you could do it for me.”

You start letting out quiet moans as his cock drags against that especially sensitive spot inside you that only he can seem to find. You feel like you’re already on cloud nine: one orgasm down and another seems to be fast approaching. You let your hands wander up his arms and across the expanse of his back where he feels your nails bite into skin, causing to arch his back and drive a little deeper into you. You bite your lip to muffle yourself, but Seungmin is having absolutely none of that. He just starts fucking into you harder.

“You thought you were gonna come to the gym in those clothes baby? What? Did that picture turn you on so much you started thinking with your pretty pussy instead of this pretty little head of yours? You forget that you’re mine baby. I don’t think I like the intentions you had with wearing that and planning on coming to the gym. You know how many people could’ve seen this perfect ass of yours? How many guys would’ve been drooling over you?”

You can’t even think at this point. The words he says make sense, but seem to go in one ear and out the other. Your nails start leaving bright red lines down his back in attempts to ground yourself in the midst of him fucking you like a slut. Your orgasm that once was only fast approaching, is now leaving you teetering at the edge of a precipice. But you know better than to cum without permission.

“Mi-Min. Minnie. Seu-Seungmin. Can I? Please can I cum?”

“Cum for me baby. Wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

You let go and swear that you black out just a little bit from the intensity of the orgasm. At this point, only high pitched whines are leaving your mouth coupled with the need to feel Seungmin cum inside you.

“Please! Seu-Seungie. Min-Minnie please I need to feel you. Please, please, please…” you babble out.

He lets out a hoarse chuckle at that, “Oh yeah? Does my baby want me to fill her up with my cum? God you’re such a good girl. I love you so much baby. Don’t worry, I'll give it to you.”

After that, his thrusts speed up with the intent to fill you. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head with the force behind his thrusts. Seungmin’s lips find yours as his rhythm becomes sloppy, and with one last thrust Seungmin is sitting up on his haunches while he grinds himself into you in an effort to cum as deep inside you as possible. His grunts and groans are music to your ears and evidently your pussy as well because before you know it you’re coming again. His hands grasping your hips are leaving harsh fingerprint marks that will surely bruise tomorrow, but you could care less.

His hands release their grip on your hips and go back to rubbing your sides and legs.

“You doing okay baby? I wasn’t too rough was I?”

You can barely get the words out but you manage a quiet “Mmhm. Feel good,” and Seungmin smiles at you.

“I’m gonna pull out now okay, baby? I’m gonna grab a warm towel to clean you up okay?”

He slowly pulls out of you and you wince slightly, but Seungmin remedies your pain with a quick kiss on the lips before springing out of bed to go grab the necessary materials to clean you up. After striding out of your room, completely naked and looking delicious enough to have you wanting another round, he returns with a small towel and begins to gingerly wipe the cum and sweat off you while humming softly.

Tossing the cloth off to the side, Seungmin quickly lays down and pulls the blanket over the top of both of you and then opens up his arms as an invitation for you to snuggle into him, which you gladly accept. Burying your face into his chest, you can feel his heartbeat and his breaths becoming slower and longer. You know in your heart that this is where you belong. Right here, in your bed, in the arms of the man you love more than anything in the entire world.

“I love you, Seungmin.” you mumble.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Just then you hear the front door open and shut. You and Seungmin both look at each other in confusion, before you realize that it’s probably just your best friend/roommate and maybe Junhan.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear two sets of footsteps walking down the hallway just before they reach your door.

“Can I come in?” you hear Dee ask through the door.

“Yeah its safe. Be warned I am naked, but I’m under the covers.”

“I don’t know if I want to come in then.”

“JUST GET IN HERE, JESUS.”

Your door creaks open before Dee exclaims, “Why the fuck does it smell like sex in here- Oh god nevermind!” before she’s slamming your door shut.

“YOU COULD’VE AT LEAST TOLD ME THAT THE BOTH OF YOU WERE IN THERE!”

You and Seungmin both erupt in laughter before you turn and snuggle back into him. Yep. This is exactly where you’re meant to be.

a/n: thank you all for all the love on my last post! i hope you all enjoyed this one!

[justenjoythegossip]

Immigration questions, truths, lies and speculation: a few random thoughts…

Use of her immigration status to discredit the wedding…

Abba’s legal status is a topic that has been brought up so much by Team PR blogs, especially to discredit the fact there was any marriage at all, that it’s interesting to ask ourselves why. Although I won’t pretend to answer any of those questions. I know absolutely nothing about her legal status but I am pretty sure that neither do those mods that pretend to. Unless they have a source or informant at the immigration bureau, but I seriously doubt it. 

Truths, lies and speculation…

I’ll do my best to sum up what have been said on the subject. Allegedly Abba has used a tourist Visa to enter the US, that’s why she goes back to Portugal very often and is never seen in the USA. She couldn’t have a work visa because she is not shooting any movie or TV show on US domestic soil. She couldn't have an Einstein Visa because she has no talent. She couldn’t have petitioned for a fiancée visa neither because she would have had to stay put and wait a few years for her citizenship and so traveling abroad for her second kinda wedding would have been out of the question. Also they added that this information was on the public record.

There’s some truths (like always), some wild speculation and some clear lies. 

First of all, someone’s immigration status is not really public information. Sure there is a number you can call to check an immigration status but you do need some personal information like name, date and place of birth which are easy to find for sure but also… a 13-character receipt number from your application or petition. She did share a shower porn with the world, but I don’t think she ever volunteered information regarding her travel documents or petition. So how would people know anything regarding her legal situation? 

Where has she been?

An important topic of discussion has been about her whereabouts. Interesting enough, that girl has been mostly MIA for the last couple of years. Has she been hiding in a basement or is she a ghost? We know she sort of pops out for certain events used for PR purposes (papwalks, a fashion show, the ghosted premiere, the GQ event) but she was not even seen for their alleged first wedding, nor for their alleged second wedding.  

Also interesting, she deactivated her location on Instagram a while ago so that no one could actually know where she is. The last time it was active was when she was shooting a movie with Anne Hathaway in Germany. It’s safe to assume that she doesn’t want people to know where she is because this way, she can be placed anywhere… anywhere where Chris is of course. 

What could her legal status be?

A dual citizenship is unlikely, for sure. She wasn’t born in the US and although we know she has a sister who lives there (and maybe she even has other family relatives who knows), she would have had to reside in the states for years to get it. 

But is a work visa out of the question? Of course, she hasn’t and is not shooting anything on US soil. But if there is a PR contract, doesn’t PR work qualify as… work? There are the papwalks of course, but also all the trips she had to take in order for them to shoot the material they needed (pictures and videos used for ridiculous cringy photo montages that were posted on Instagram stories). CAA (or another entity) could have very well sponsored her for a work visa and have her do all kind of stuff. We know how powerful this company is, how shady it is and how much pull it has. It is out of the realm of possibilities? 

And guess what, you can travel abroad under a work visa for business purposes (to shoot a movie in Germany for ex) or for a vacation (to the Bermuda for ex), you just need to have your travel permit approved. 

I am not saying she has a work visa btw, just that it’s possible and that there is no actual proof to say otherwise. It’s pure speculation. Like those mods are doing and passing for actual truth. 

I will add that I once asked one of those so-called Team PR blog for some precisions about this topic. It was someone I had very cordial talks with (I even provided them with material they used for their blog). They never answered those questions of course. Sidenote they blocked me after my pinned post defining who those blogs are and what they were doing without ever naming anyone and when they had never followed me in the first place. Make of that what you will. 

The (apparent) absence of marriage license and the fiancée visa?

A marriage license is actually a lot easier to find though because the public records are a lot simpler to access. Of course, there are a few exceptions, if you filed in California for example (but not realistic in their case) or if you filed a special request in front of a judge to have the records sealed. Up until now, no one has found their marriage license. 

No publication (no TMZ, not anyone) published it when we had trillion articles about their wedding but no confirmation from either of their teams for more than a month… until Chris’ appearance at the NY con. Also we can assume that a license would have probably popped out on one Team Real blog if such proof existed (faking a yoga certificate is one thing but faking such documents would be a federal offense).

By the way, Chris told us that he and Abba are NOT legally married. The words he used at that Con were so very specific: "kinda ceremonies". KINDA... Go Portugal! So he definitely put an asterisk to the marriage narrative. And I should add that no rep confirmed their marriage, another confirmation of their non-marriage.

But then again you could speculate that they had a kinda sorta spiritual Buddhist non-binding ceremony. I think team real blogs have supported this theory at some point if anyone wants to believe it. But in that case, if she wouldn’t petition for a dual citizenship and stay in the USA with her work visa, she wouldn’t face legal issues and she could pop in and out of the country with her approved travel permit. 

Again I am not saying it’s the truth, just that those immigration questions are very complex and are very unlikely to shed any light on that shitshow. 

Why use speculation (or even a blatant lie) to discredit another lie?

The question remains. Why would you need to bring up this topic to discredit a wedding when actual facts don’t add up? Some mods have done a fantastic job pointing them out. 

What purpose do those alleged immigration issues serve? Do they discredit Team PR blogs? Do they serve as an actual diversion? Because one thing is certain we don’t need those to question their kinda ceremonies, do we? 

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 7: Something To Celebrate

“Up and at ‘em, 0011.”

Q’s wake-up call jolts me from a restful sleep. I see he’s showered and dressed in a new suit, making me a tad frustrated that I can’t stand up to clean myself yet. I’ll have Eve help me later.

“Good morning, Quartermaster. Sleep well?”

“Like the dead. You?”

I chuckle darkly. “Like I’m a 00 agent who’s being hunted.”

He hands me a blueberry muffin, which I have no doubt he baked himself. “I wish I could help, but I’m afraid the only way to assure your identity can be wiped clean is the capture of Silva.”

Is he actually showing empathy? Q really must have gotten a good sleep for him to be so laid-back. 

“Ready for work?” I ask as I devour the muffin.

Q brings over my wheelchair and helps me into it. My leg is already showing improvement.

“Sure am. I’m hoping there’s news from Bond.”

I let out a heavy sigh as he pushes me out the door. “You and me both. No doubt he’s destroyed something.”

Q groans. “If I have to repair that radio transmitter again…”

We take another company SUV (Q must have pulled some strings) and arrive to work half an hour early. The minute we enter I see Mallory is waiting for us.

“Good. You’re here. Q, where is Bond?”

I can’t see Q’s face, but I can tell he’s trying to construct a lie. “Like I told you yesterday, sir. He disappeared off our radar.”

Mallory isn’t convinced but gestures for us to pass. Deep down I’m glad to know I’m not the only one being left in the dark. Soon enough we see Eve walking towards us.

“M’s dead.”

Q stops dead in his tracks and spins me around so we’re facing her. I’m not supposed to form attachments, but M was one of the first people to welcome me into the MI6. She made me learn that you don’t need a family to have a good life, you just need to find a purpose for yourself. And mine was to serve my country.

“This world has lost a brilliant leader,” I mutter. “Who’s in charge now?”

“Mallory. The new secretary is Moneypenny.” Eve winks. “You might recognize her.”

She pivots and walks down the hall towards Mallory’s office.

Q sighs. “M was a remarkable woman. I’ll miss her.”

“Let’s hope Mallory is half-decent. Let’s go meet this new secretary.”

We follow where Eve disappeared to. Q opens the door and pushes me in, where we both find- Eve? 

The lady behind the desk smiles. “Hello, 0011.”

“You got promoted? Congratulations! We have got to celebrate after work.”

Q is just as surprised as me. “Goodness, wow. Not that it’s a hard choice, you’re clearly well over-qualified. Congrats!”

“I say we go out to the K Bar. I hear their wine list is divine!” Eve Moneypenny suggests.

“What do you think, Quartermaster?” I look up to flash Q a wide grin. “Am I allowed to drink during my recovery?”

The lanky geek smiles, leans down and whispers: “We’ll keep it off the records, eh?”

Tonight’s going to be spectacular!

Since my apartment’s been compromised, I’m not allowed to live there anymore. Which means all my belongings have been moved to the spare closet in the basement.

“Sorry about this, Q. I promise I’ll find a place and be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

The computer geek has been incredibly helpful with helping me move. At first I thought he’d be annoyed at me invading his space, but he’s been more supportive than I'd expect. Yet he still can't help but complain about how many clothes I have.

“You’d better! This closet looks like a stuffed tick that’s about to pop. What’s in this tote anyway? Cinder blocks?”

I look away to avoid his gaze. “It’s shoes, actually.”

“Shoes?”

“What? I never know what shoe I might need! Pumps, kitten heels, boots, sneakers-”

Q sets the tote down and gives an exasperated grunt. “I get it, I get it!”

I wheel myself closer and give him a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you. Now would you help me pick out a dress for tonight?”

He looks down at me with a new smirk. “You look stunning in everything, Mrs. White.”

“Well thank you, Mr. White.” I arch an eyebrow. “I’m looking forward to seeing you gussied up as well.”

Q looks over my collection of dresses, all the while looking very serious as if deciding on buying a house. After a few moments he holds up one of my favorite blue evening dresses.

“I like this one.”

“Then we each have good taste,” I smirk as I’m handed the dress. “I think we’ve all earned a celebration after all this chaos.”

The hours tick by and soon enough it’s already quitting time. Eve helps me into the gorgeous dress and supplies me with some makeup. She herself is wearing a simple black dress.

“Very classy, Moneypenny.”

“Thank you! I’m-” She looks around to see if we’re alone, then whispers: “I’m going out on a date after our dinner!”

I gasp. “A promotion, and a date? You lucky girl!”

She giggles and begins pushing me to the exit. “I know! I’m so excited! Just try to keep it low-profile, alright?”

I mock-zip my lips shut. “Your secret’s safe with me. Now let’s get the K Bar so I can finally have a drink.”

“You’re starting to sound like Bond,” Moneypenny teases.

“I'll take that as a compliment. Although I do wish to keep my dignity intact.”

We take Moneypenny’s car to the bar and discover Q already has a table for us. He’s chosen a basic dress shirt and slacks, yet to me he’s the most handsome man here. Wait. What?

“Good evening, ladies.” The computer geek raises a mug of (no surprise) Earl Gray tea. “I took the liberty of ordering you some drinks of your own.”

On que, the waiter shows up with a tray of martini glasses. I see Moneypenny has a simple red wine and mine is-

"You ordered me a plain lemonade?" I ask, bewildered.

"Strawberry lemonade, actually," Q informs. "You said you're not a fan of alcohol."

How can this man be so thoughtful and annoying? 

I pick up the colorful drink with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Q."

We each take our glasses and raise them to a toast.

“To M, the strongest and most fearless leader the MI6 has ever seen,” I announce in a rousing tone. “And to Eve, or should I say Moneypenny, who will without a doubt shine as our new secretary!”

No matter if Bond gets back or not, I know we’ll keep an eye on things.

[themculibrary]

Smut - Shower Sex Masterlist

En Suite (ao3) - valtyr steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Written for Avengers Kink. Prompt: "Tony/Steve. Shower sex."

I hate you, I love you (ao3) - Andrea1717 steve/bucky E, 13k

Summary: Bucky Barnes hates Steve Rogers. Weirdly he also can't keep his hands off of him.

An enemies to lovers college AU.

In Twin Rivers (ao3) - RurouniHime steve/tony E, 3k

Summary: In Twin Rivers, Tony springs for a hotel room.

In your hands (ao3) - jeza_red thor/steve M, 2k

Summary: “Thor, I…” Again he was not allowed to finish the thought. And it was strangely okay with him; Thor was so much more experienced, much more qualified to make judgements here. If he decided that now it’s okay to move, Steve was all behind that decision.

Let Me Take You Higher (ao3) - BlossomsintheMist steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: “Good,” Steve said, and squeezed him gently around the waist. “I guess we should see about having an actual shower, huh?”

“It might be a good idea,” Tony allowed, smiling a little. It felt loose and warm and wide on his face.

Like a Daylight Savings Clock (ao3) - orphan_account steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: Would it bother Steve’s sensibilities to know that Tony was getting off on the idea of just being a thing for Steve’s pleasure, for his use?

My Arms Were Made To Hold You (ao3) - portraitofemmy, rainbow_marbles steve/bucky E, 55k

Summary: Tired of being kept awake at night by a screaming baby, Bucky decides to take matters into his own hands. Mostly he wants a good night's sleep, but what he gets is a beautiful baby boy with big blue eyes, a lonely father trying to move on from tragedy, and a chance at a family he never expected to have.

Out of Practice (ao3) - sassyseme sam/bucky E, 7k

Summary: Bucky claims he's out of practice, but his bed skills prove otherwise. He promises to do better, but Sam is already satisfied and eager for more each time. How much better can great sex get?

Rage Unleashed (ao3) - KurosakiIchigoat kate/yelena E, 86k

Summary: Following the fall out of being bonded with the symbiotes can Kate and Yelena move forward and heal or will other threats force them to reconcile with what has happened to them, and what they both want?

Shower Fun (ao3) - AkikoFumi steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Anonymous sent: "NSFW prompt: Steve and Tony having shower sex for the first time. Please."

Shower to Save Water… Maybe Not (ao3) - Hades_LastSon21 wanda/natasha E, 1k

Summary: Day 24: Shower

Wanda get distracted while training

Slippery When Wet (ao3) - Jo (jmathieson) clint/phil E, 2k

Summary: Clint and Phil take a shower after a rough mission.

Steam (ao3) - LittleGooseWalking clint/natasha E, 775

Summary: *Follows after Clint's Nest in this series.*

A steamy shower encounter followed by an unexpected surprise.

Steam (ao3) - ladydeathfaerie clint/steve E, 4k

Summary: Long simmering emotions finally come to a boil one night after a training session, when Clint and Steve are alone in the mansion.

Steamy (ao3) - randomfatkid clint/phil M, 496

Summary: Clint wakes to find the bed empty and the shower running.

Substitute (ao3) - helens78 rhodey/tony E, 784

Summary: It's been four days with no booze and no sleep; Tony needs a substitute for the bottle, and Rhodey's willing to keep him company.

The Shape of Want (ao3) - praxidikai gilgamesh/thena M, 4k

Summary: The Eternals meet King Arthur, he grows fond of Thena, she isn't amused.

Under Her Thumb (ao3) - neon_jellyfish bruce/clint/natasha E, 3k

Summary: Dom!Natasha unwinds with her sub!boyfriends Clint and Bruce after a stressful week for the Avengers

We Don't Need Words (ao3) - abbyleaf101 clint/phil E, 525

Summary: The different ways they have sex says a lot about who they are.

what you see ain’t what you get (you ain’t seen nothing yet) (ao3) - six_demon_bag bucky/john E, 5k

Summary: John and Joaquin are sent undercover to investigate Alexander Pierce for illegal weapons trafficking from his company SHIELD Securities. Bucky and Sam are less than pleased at one of the things they do to avoid detection.

[nikachansstuff]

Back to this because I happened to see two posts with valid counter arguments and I want to elaborate on it.

- “Unrealistic in a fantasy with fae? That’s where you draw a line?” - Maybe I wasn’t clear in my take, but when I say unrealistic, I don’t mean our reality as a reader. I thought it was implied, but apparently it’s not so: is not realistic inside the world created by the author. If you’re writing about a blood bath taking place among a warrior race, where many died trying to reach victory, and you emphasize how difficult it is to win, how only maybe 12 reach the goal in half millennia, then it is unrealistic for 3 females to win with months of training.

- “They passed the qualifier! That means they qualify!” - I know, excellent point. But I still find that SJM dropped the ball in this plot. It doesn’t matter that they passed a qualifier in a controlled environment, in a clean training facility under the watchful eyes of two previous winners. Those females never once camped in their life, except maybe for Emerie. They never once faced this type of adversity, they only trained in a immaculate training ring with a hot shower and a hot meal after it. It doesn’t make sense for them to endure this type of environment for one week and still make it to the top of the freaking mountain.

- “They worked as a team, that’s why they won!” … okay, this sounds really like the power of friendship argument I saw it in my comments. Let’s agree to disagree on this one, then, because to me, it still not enough to win a supposed life sentence challenge in the wilderness. You have one guarded female that never hunted in her life, a priestess that was also guarded in temples and libraries her whole life and Emerie, who is the only one who actually knows her culture. It’s not a strong combination, in my view.

At this point, nobody is going to change their minds, right? I find this whole plot very week and not plausible. At all.

And I bet some editor did point that out to SJM, but she went with it anyway.

I’m sorry, I think this will be my most unpopular opinion on my blog. But I got to be honest. If I am being critical of ACOTAR, I would say that Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn wining the Blood Rite was unrealistic. There, I said it!

It was rare for anyone in the Blood Rite to make it to the monolith. Since he and his brothers had done it five centuries ago, Cassian could recall only a dozen or so who'd not only reached the mountain, but also survived the climb. After a week of fighting, of running, of having to find and make your own weapons and food, that climb was worse than every horror before it. It was the true test of will, of cour-age. To climb when you had nothing left; to climb when your body begged you to stop ... It was when the breaking usually occurred.

ACOFAS

And you want me to believe three females without any previous training, with only months of hard and intensive work, beat this race of warriors that has being training since children in the most unfortunate conditions?

Honestly… that’s something that does not make sense to me at all. I think SJM missed something here, because it’s really contradictory and ends up weighing down the whole accomplishment of being Carynthian. To me, it doesn’t read as plausible.

Okay, I’m done.

[howaboutcastiel-personal]

I can’t understand why my brain is the way that it is. Why can’t I just—I don’t know, be fucking stupid and happy and extroverted? It’s not even that the fear has paralyzed me, it’s more like dread. Literally everything that I could possibly do, I dread now. Eating used to be my favorite fucking thing and even when I was mad at my body and trying to restrict I still enjoyed good food. Now? I could be satisfied to never eat food again. I just don’t fucking care anymore, being hungry just isn’t enough for me to want anything. I have to get high to even want food, and then I can’t really taste it that well because I’m high. I’m trying to not become dependent on weed though so I’m just not eating until I start shaking or feeling faint. And that’s only because me being sick is an inconvenience on everyone else. If it was up to me I would just stop eating and let my body give up.

So many of the things that I thought could “fix” me seem so mundane now, too. Women aren’t attracted to me, men are attracted to me sometimes but I’m not attracted to them. And I’m so fucking shallow too, I don’t deserve a partner. And the shitty friends I have, I guess they are exactly what I do deserve. It’s just so exhausting to do everything. Every. Thing. Getting out of bed is exhausting, trying to sleep is exhausting. Laying in bed awake with my thoughts is exhausting. Taking my meds is a chore. Chores are chores. I’m not qualified for a decent job and I know if I go into customer service I’ll kill myself faster. I want to be a professional cleaner, even though that’s a dead end job with shitty pay and my parents would be just as disappointed in me as they are now. Cooking is definitely a chore, and every time I sit at the dinner table with my family now I just feel like I could have a panic attack. None of us really care about each other anymore, or maybe they care for each other, just not for me, and I don’t care for them. Showers are a chore now too, not just getting in the shower but the shower itself. The nice smelling soap makes me nauseated. Shampooing my hair hurts. Combing my hair is torture.

Everything is so fucking exhausting. If I could actually fall asleep, I would feel like I could sleep forever. I can’t sleep though. Not more than about 5 hours, waking up several times in that span. When I have energy it either comes in the form of manic cleaning, anger at the world, or frustration that manifests in the intense fucking urge to claw my face off or pull out my hair or stab myself in the stomach and thighs wherever else and I want to draw with a red pen on myself but god I’m 21 and if I get caught it will look like I’m just fuckign screaming for some pathetic attention.

My limbs literally feel like lead. My eyelids feel like lead. There’s a weight on my chest that makes it hard to breathe and there’s a feeling of apathy that makes me not care that I can’t fucking breathe. I do not care anymore if I live or die and I’ve never meant that as much as I do now. There’s just no reason for me to stay. I’m nothing. I’m less than nothing. There’s not a damn thing that I’m good for and I’m never going to grow up and this world is not designed for people like me. I can’t bother to feel anything for my family. My brother is a psychopath racist and misogynist. My dad… all of the above? He must feel emasculated whenever he’s not bullying my mom, for starters. The racism and sexism and homophobia and transphobia, those are secondary to the fact that he’s just an arrogant fucking prick. My mom is a manic narcissist and a chronic over-spender, and she refuses to communicate with my dad just as much as he refuses to be receptive. Mimi is an alcoholic and stubborn as hell. Marcus… is where do I even fucking start? He’s a bully and a pervert and losing his goddamn mind is the best thing to ever happen to him. Poppy is just going and going, and I’ll miss what he used to be but there’s nothing to be done about it. Grammy is manipulative and I don’t think I could ever be a good grandkid for her. She’s got plenty of others to worry about anyway. There’s no reason to want to please them, and I know for a fact that I am not pleasing them. I don’t want to be a burden on them but at this point I truly don’t care if they like me or not.

Tomorrow is wisdom teeth removal. Maybe I will feel better? And then I’m going to be miserable for a little while. Okay, whatever. My body is tired. Just plain fucking tired and I can’t do anything right. Not anything. And I have to say for the record that I fucking hate Julia. She’s such a pick me, such a sensitive woman’s woman and a fucking moron. There’s a reason she’s dating my brother and it’s because her personality is just as sour as his. Stupid fuckin Republican bitch, who by the way wanted me to fucking drink myself to death at Epcot I guess.

I guess I need to eat something so that I’m not hungry in the morning. I’ll go do that in a few minutes. I wish I could reality shift and lucid dream. Maybe I could find something that’s bearable on the other side of the multiverse, or maybe that’s what I’m already doing and I’m just as miserable in every other dimension.

The obvious fact is there too that I can’t ignore anymore. The fanfiction… I could never be good enough for any of them. None of them. I’m so fucking completely worthless they would never want me. Joel would shoot me. Javi wouldn’t give me the time of day. Layla would leave and Marc would be disgusted by me and, once he got over the bliss of just receiving attention, Steven would be bored of me. Din would hate me I think. Actively. And all of that is fair because I’m not a good person. I can’t pretend that they would like me or that I deserve them.

I don’t know where the passion would even be if I could look for it. It’s completely out of sight. School is over. Family is distant. Jobs seem out of reach and friendship and romance are pitifully unattainable. There’s nothing I could even try to care about anymore. I’m going to stop taking my meds and maybe I’ll turn into a human being again or maybe I’ll finally have the clarity of mind to just get out of everyone’s hair. I’m so fucking tired. I’m so tired and I can’t fucking sleep.

I wish I could just sleep. And sleep. And sleep.

[cosmicladyy]

low tide

dating wesley wizard

your first date was literally just a fishing trip

but you actually had a great time, wesley would tell you interesting facts about each fish he’d catch and what lure was best to use

you caught a big ass fish on your first throw and couldn’t stop bragging

he thought it was cute

(howell was horrifed when he found out and made him take you to this rlly fancy restaurant he had reservations for) “ON WHAT PLANET DOES FISHING QUALIFY AS A DATE???”

on the off chance you don’t go fishing with him, he’d send you pics of some of the fish he’d catch

‘took 4evr, but i finally caught him’

‘he kinda looks like u :)’

hc that he likes to bring home pretty shells he finds on the beach for you

you have a shelf dedicated to all the gifts he brings you

when ya’ll finally move in, he brings all his fish buddies with him

congrats! you now have your very own aquarium !!

love the man to bits, but i feel that bc he spends so much time in the ocean, he’s used to the smell and doesn’t realize a majority of his clothes stinks

which is bad news for you bc he likes to be held after a long day of fishing and you don’t wanna be near a smelly fish man

“Wes, I’ll hold you after you shower.”

“so you’re saying you don’t love me anymore?”

“WESLEY GO TAKE A SHOWER.”

when ya’ll first started dating, he was a little hesitant on officially introducing you to his sibs

he knows his family does it to protect him, but they can be a bit much at times

but after much convincing, you both arranged a small dinner to get to know them

you kinda already knew Crispin, considering he’s the only mechanic on the island

it started off with you getting back to back ‘interviews’ from each sibling but at the end they all came to the realization that you’re actually pretty cool

he thought that was goods news, but it backfired tremendously

prepare to never have any alone time 

bc you’ll always have a wizard sibling glomming onto you

you don’t mind, but wesley gets tired of it quick

“I wanted them to help me with this new recipe I found.”

“Yea right, they clearly want to check out this new computer game I found.”

“Dream on! They obviously want to sculpt with me, let’s get outta here (y/n)!”

*cue tug of war*

he’s not really into pda

instead of holding hands, he likes to link pinkies

when ya’ll are alone however..

you like when he kisses your cheeks bc his stubble tickles in a good way

before he heads off for the day, he waits for you to brush his bangs to the side and give him a smooch on his forehead

he refuses to leave without one

he’s actually really clingy behind closed doors

you absolutely love it, but it definitely has it moments

“this is really nice, but i need to use the bathroom.”

*grunt*

“I’m like three seconds away from pissing my pants pls let go.”

“I have a bucket you can use.”

“THAT”S SO GROSS WESLEY LET GO.”

after his clothes have been thoroughly washed, you like to steal his sweaters

“Are any of the clothes dry yet?”

“no.”

“is that my favorite shirt?”

“...no.”

you buying him those dorky dad hats that read somethin’ like “women want me, fish fear me” as a joke but they become a major part of his wardrobe 

sometimes when wesley gets tired of talking, he’ll slowly go from one worded responses to low grunts

when you pick up on this, you just hold his hand and sit with him in silence

he appreciates it and squeezes your hand to let you know

he’s really glad he met you, it makes him feel like you’re the only person who really gets him

[cocained]

for mason it was anything but easy to make promises. mostly because when he made them, he would never break it and he didn't know what was ahead. however, he did know himself. there was a constant current that he felt in most of his relationships, where it was either his uncontrollable pull or his defensive push that made out his actions. they were entering foreign territory and he had no idea what was going to happen as they continued down this path. all he knew was that he could only tell dante the truth. "no promises — but i don’t think so though, no." mason was the person, in contrast to the other, to always see obstacles on the road and he wished he had ever been wrong before at least once to disprove his point. he hoped this time would be different, but he knew better than to count on it. although, he did know for sure it would have nothing to do with the way he felt about dante. a feeling he wasn't quite sure to put into words yet. it was familiar and it shouldn't be because it was not the same as the attraction he had for anyone before. mason remembered the crazy things he had done in order to have someone look at him the way dante did. to be seen and heard. for it to matter when he smiled or frowned. for someone to notice when he stayed quiet because that was what he was used to doing, yet not what he wanted to do. "would be nice, yeah." not that the thought of dante wasn't already the highlight of his showers. the idea of being filmed while having sex would certainly bring an extra layer of awareness as well as more motivation to perform. he was sure the other would be able to put on a good show. that was what dante was known for after all. he was glad that they were leaving the bar behind because no matter how nice the vodka was that went down his throat like water, it didn't even come close to the taste of dante's lips on his, now that it was just them. "there's a very fine line between those two those two kinds of mad. you'll just have to figure it out." a line that even mason hadn't perfected. he couldn't tell dante what and what not to do if he wanted to get spanked and deepthroated as a form of punishment. or most importantly, what not to do to actually make him mad. nevertheless, he saw that dante was trying to test the waters. to see what buttons he could push and what would happen if he did. it was obvious in the bar, arguable not only to mason, but regardless he appreciated the discipline the other had to respect his boundaries. "we'll go to a club one day, dante. and we'll dance together. — but next weekend, i have a game and if we win, the team is definitely celebrating. you can come to the party if you want." celebrations with the toledo tigers were honestly better than any other party he had been to, but it was the sort of environment where they couldn't be intimate. out of respect for his ex, even though mason would probably have to watch the man kiss another, but mostly because of the way he still didn't feel completely comfortable with his sexuality in an environment that was that masculine. "you can be any kind of person you want to be dante." he knew that the people that raised the beauvais children didn't qualify for role models, but he saw something genuine and good in dante. he saw someone who had been through a lot, but knew how to smile through the pain. a drink helped with that, sure — but their conversations weren't based on just drunk talk. "i don't think you understand. i had a relatively good childhood. i've never missed a day of school or skipped a meal. my parents have never scolded me or hurt me. and yeah, it wasn't — perfect and i've had to work hard to be where i am today, but who hasn't? my whole team has done that." his gaze was forced back to the warm eyes in front of him as mason's chin was lifted and he wasn't quite sure how to express himself at this point. the feeling of a gentle, yet calloused hand against this cheek didn't necessarily make it easier to think, as nice as it felt.

"i don't understand how you think i'm strong when i cave, every fucking time you speak to me." this was the moment where he got to scoff because the admiration dante spoke about was undeserved. disbelief settled on his face at the words that followed, but in a way that was still subtle enough not to make the other feel ridiculous. "i don't want you to think that i'm someone i'm not. i'm not — good, just because i have discipline and care about what you have to say. that doesn't make me a good person." he wished he could explain all the ways he was fucked up, but a lot of it he didn't understand himself. a lot of it was what he had heard from others. like being short-tempered, childish and not knowing what he wanted. his many questionable attempts to bring out a reaction in people whether it was good or bad, worth it to him because he preferred that over quietness. "it's not a pretty sight." the hockey player warned dante as the conversation moved to the lighter topic of exercising. finding it relatively more difficult to switch his emotions that rapidly, but at least there was a softness on mason's face as he spoke. the two of them working out was the last thing he wanted to be thinking of right now, so the way their bodies collided was an easy way for him to move on from that. the last time they had kissed wasn't even that long ago but felt like an eternity now that he was filled up with the warmth of the other, which he had missed. the world around them didn't exist for a good matter of seconds when the smile appeared on dante's face. that was the realization hit him that for that sight — mason would go to the end of the earth and back. "i like hearing you babble though." the sparkle in mason's eyes had to be noticeable, although he hesitated about the way he wanted to follow up on his comment. "it's not so easy for me to talk about it. to stop thinking so much and — stop worrying about whether i'm saying something wrong or if should say it at all." this had to be the most vulnerable he had opened himself up to dante and the words left his mouth his point was proven by the way he was clearly calculating his sentences in his head before he spoke them. then again mason was really trying. "it's not me hiding, though. i've got nothing to hide." it sounded like a promise and it was, because he didn't want dante to feel like he was doing it on purpose. "does it not make you happy?" as the question left mason, something clicked inside. in the short moment that his focus shifted away from the conversation, he thought about how it was the same for him. hockey was his life, that was what he had always told everyone and what it felt like, but it was never something he actually chose. it was all just a hopeless attempt to bring the family together, not something he did because it made him happy. "you're allowed to complain. you don't have to have figured it all out yet." mindless digits travelled along the fabric on dante's chest and he barely even felt the cold bite of the breeze of wind passing them. "i'm proud, but every game i still look in the audience hoping that one day —" he swallowed the sudden lump that appeared in his throat and stared at the wall behind dante to be able to admit this to even himself. "that one day i'll see my parents in the stands and see them proud." a hollow chuckle passed his lips at how ridiculous it sounded and mason now focused on the ground below him. "it's stupid after all this time — and disappointing, but i can't shut it off." with a shake of his head he finally looked at dante again, wondering if that had ever been on his mind too. "what i want? i wish i had an answer. maybe i wanna travel one day. or just leave everything behind and start over. but that's only after i retire from the league. and if — i don't have a reason to stay." there was a reason now and mason was looking at it, although there was no guarantee it would last that long.

that there even was a them at this point because, besides the hours of having sex that weekend in the cabin and their many deep conversations, they were technically friends. a hum rumbled out from deep inside of him when dante challenged his ability to make him scream. it wasn't the first time he saw those glistening eyes and it had the corners of mason's mouth slightly lifted upwards. "if you're not ready to be fucked like a dirty, screaming slut then just say, love. — we can take it slow." with the emphasis on the part that mattered, his own gaze darkened as they went from dante's lips back to honeyed hues. two could play that game. their hands holding each other out in public felt like somewhat of a risk, although it was worth it. mason didn't see the excitement in the other, but he could sure feel it. then again, having the car door close behind him was like somewhat of a relief. with a smile aimed at dante, he listened and reacted to each sentence with only the slightest facial expressions. the pillow of his thumb gently stroking along the back of dante's. "only a little bit." despite the uber driver being in the back of his head, mason planted a short kiss straight onto dante's lips regardless and looked at him reassuringly. he really didn't mind the babbling. "we're going to your place. and i promise, as long as it has a bed or a couch or something — it'll do."

a mix of confusion and excitement surges through his chest at mason's words, "does that mean you're not gonna do what you've been doing again?" his mouth curls into an excited smile, wishing nothing more than feeling like he could reach out to touch mason in public right now, wishing that they were already so much closer than they actually were. dante had this habit of wishing for things he knew he couldn't have, always envisioning himself being able to accomplish more than he could, or faster than he could - this was seeming to be no different, overly ambitious about how quickly he could get to the next stage of their relationship, but he couldn't stop the tug in his chest that pulled him to mason (no matter how much he also wanted to run the opposite direction). he wasn't sure when he had started to fall for mason; now that they were clearly accepting that a line had been crossed, he had started to wonder if it had slowly been happening the entire time he thought he had been building a friendship. and now? he felt like he was in so deep that he was drowning, pulled deeper in each time that mason's mouth opened and they teased each other, each time mason told him something new about himself, "nah, not a prude," teeth press into his bottom lip, pointedly dragging his gaze down to his lips, his voice dropping even lower, growing thicker with each passing second, "just imagining how nice it would be to have a video." his eyebrows raise at the warning, his innate curiosity piqued. he hadn't ever seen mason angry; honestly, he hadn't really thought about it past a few passing comments he had made about wanting to see mason fight on the ice, "i think i do wanna see that. maybe not mad at me? unless its like, the fun kinda mad where you're gonna put me over your knee and spank me." his face softened for a moment, the words rushed out, "i don't want to actually make you mad." eyes roll and he sighs, "yes, i know we did, but you said that here wasn't the environment. what about next weekend? you can take me out to an actual club, even though i hate them, so we can dance. compromise, right?" the cool air outside helped to calm him even though it was a topic he would typically run from, even from his own thoughts, "i don't know. i should be able to, right? but it seems like i still always do the same shit they do. its like a fuckin' curse." the thought crossed his mind that even this - allowing himself to fall so quickly and so hard for mason was the same thing that his father had allowed to happen, that had resulted in his downfall (at least from dante's perspective). and despite the fact that he was falling, hard and fast, he still found himself feeling like he needed to run away - to abandon, just like his mother had. it took everything in him to give in to the desire he had to cling to mason, to fight against all of the contradictory feelings mason brought out in him. dante could easily dispense compliment after compliment to mason, but he had started to catch on that each time, mason seemed uncomfortable. this time was no different, hesitation in the acceptance, eyes dropping away from dante's. dante places a hand under mason's chin, tipping it back up until their eyes meet again, "its the truth, mase. do you not think you are?" one eyebrow raises, his head shaking back and forth, "its not about me - i was complimenting you." his hand moves from under his chin to rest gently on his cheek, fingertips pressing into his cheekbone, "you're one of the strongest people i know, mase. i admire you so much - i..," its his turn to hesitate, eyes anxiously shifting between mason's, "i think you're too good for me - i'm gonna mess you up, but i don't care - and i'm sorry about that." he hates that he's confessing so much to mason so easily, but it was the curse of their relationship having been built on friendship - dante knew he had so much more to lose, he trusted mason already and it made it near impossible to keep his mouth shut, something he already struggled with, without the trust.

his heart practically soars at how easily they're able to switch back into playfulness that instead of bringing an uncomfortable feeling to his chest, made him feel like he was floating on top of the world, "oh, absolutely. i don't know what a split jump is, but everything you do is so sexy that i'd fuckin' pay to watch you." and when mason's eyes close for a second, it happens again - feeling like he's floating over the clouds. he genuinely didn't understand how he had managed to convince someone like mason that he was worth their time, but he was more and more grateful each day that their relationship progressed that he had - even if there was a voice (no matter how quiet) in the back of his head reminding him that at any point, he could lose all of this - all of the good that came with mason, all of the stability. so yes, it was that bad that he couldn't stop himself from confessing things that he hadn't even dared to admit to himself yet, but mason always had the right things to say - just like now. that he could listen to him talk for hours. the simple gesture meant so much more than he knew how to verbalize. again making him feel like he was soaring, but at the same time, it only increased the fear that was growing inside of him. the possibility that mason felt as strongly as he did was terrifying and electrifying all at the same time. the electrifying feeling in his chest winning out this time, a bright smile appearing on his face, despite fear being the reason that his heart was pounding in his chest as he pushed onto his toes to shove his lips against mason's in a quick, almost playful kiss, "i could talk to you for hours, as long as you talk back. i feel like i'm always babbling and you're just... letting me." a sigh shoves through his lips, shoulders shrugging, "yeah, i'm proud of it." it wasn't that he wasn't proud of all the things that he had accomplished, "but what if that wasn't ever what i wanted to do? i don't really... know? if that makes sense. just kinda... stumbled into it." he was more than well aware of the level of talent that he possessed - a lot of it had come naturally, but just as much of it had been his hard work and determination to pull himself out of the life he had grown up in, "but i can't really complain, you know? i know how fuckin' lucky i am to live the life i do." eyebrows raise, "so why aren't you glowing with pride? you know how many people would kill to be able to do what you do?" the things that mason could do with his body never failed to amaze dante - watching him skate was like nothing he had ever seen, now that he had finally been to a game, finally watched him do what he had practiced so hard to do. dante's head tilts as he adds on that he used to think it was all he wanted, "what do you want now, if not only hockey?" mason was constantly surprising him, the shock clear on his face as his lips dropped open, "well, shit, mase." not one to be at a loss for words and somehow - mason had accomplished it twice in one night - no, twice in less than two hours, "don't think you could make me scream. moan? yes. whine? yes. ain't ever gonna get a scream out of me, though." were the words only meant to goad mason into making him scream? possibly? but he wanted to see if mason could actually make him scream, do something that no one had ever been able to accomplish before. his fingers grip onto mason's hand, thankful that he had the grip to be able to keep himself grounded through the teasing words. he was thankful for a moment that mason couldn't see the way his face lit up when he didn't let go of his hand and for the same moment - he let himself be happy in the delusion that they were together, officially and publicly. still distracted as mason tugged him towards the car, he was barely processing anything, too focused on the fact that mason was still holding onto his hand and pressing in next to him in the car, instead of sitting on the opposite side.

his eyes were still glued to their fingers, laced together and gripping onto one another, when mason brought up that he would be able to finally see his apartment. it was the only reason that his eyes were able to pull up from their hands, settling on mason's face, wide and anxious, "oh, right. you... might not like my place. compared to yours." a hand rubbed over the back of his neck, "maybe we should go back to yours instead? its not that i don't want you to see it? i don't want you to think that. i'm just... i'm babbling again. i'm sorry."

[standbyric]

[PART I]

03: Hunga'roaring'

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Female!Driver OC x Pierre Gasly Premise: Formula One, Female Racing Driver Rating: 18+; Mature themes (explicit language, death, trauma innuendos, motorsport accident, mentions of sex) Timeline: Back and forth Warning: ...kinda long because of the race part... maybe skip if you don't wanna read it hahaha. But I'm actually quite satisfied with how I wrote it.... >.< and also, face reveal! Next next chappy will have a bit of manip as well 👉🏻👈🏻 Word Count: 7.7k Sum: All or nothing in Hungary. Dramatic race and a prejudiced trial.

⬅️ Chapter 02 | MASTERLIST | Chapter 04 ➡️

IT was almost 1 PM local time. The Formula One circus had arrived in Budapest, Hungary, for the 11th round of the 2016 World Championship.

But what was supposed to be a highly anticipated Saturday qualifying session had turned into a waiting game as Hungaroring fell victim to wet patches and puddles following the heavy downpour.

Zea stared at the group of clouds as they cast a shadow and showered rain all over the circuit. She clicked her tongue. “Yeah, that’s not gonna stop any time soon.”

“You reckon?” Marq had followed her to stand in the opening of the garage so they could take a better look at the downpour.

“Yeah, I mean, look at that; that shit looks heavy. Maybe give it twenty to thirty minutes?” she cocked her head, pointing at the cloud. “Track still needs an hour or more to dry, though.”

It was something that Zea had unintentionally developed; a keen connection with the rain. Alby said it was almost mystical. She’d drawn the rain, and the rain had drawn her the same. It was last year, during the pre-season testing in Barcelona when it was first out on display. 

The fourth and final day of testing in Barcelona had most teams stuck in their garage, stagnant and unproductive. Six red flags were waived, with the McLaren crash constituting the last one. 

When everyone thought it couldn’t get any worse, a sudden drizzle came after the lunch break, which soon carried on to a complete rainstorm, drenching the track for the afternoon session.

That was when Alby made what the other Team Principals present deemed an ‘unnecessary’ call. Will Buxton, who was there then, had also taken the liberty to give his two-cent on the decision, saying, “Quite the questionable move from the Audi garage, as they send car number 88 to run on the wet track. We understand that race control had green-flagged the track, but isn’t the more logical and accordingly favourable decision would be to wait for the track to completely dry?”

Alby didn’t say anything. He didn’t react. He had kept his arms crossed, eyes glued to the monitor.

The garage was busy with the launch preparation for car number 88, as Chief Engineer, Frank October, had a final briefing with their newly signed driver before sending her off. And as soon as she got on board, she made a swift thrust along the pit lane, cinematically gliding over the splashes of the wet track.

It had served nonetheless as a majestic sight for both the eyes of spectators and all teams alike. Her execution was flawless and light.

She then proceeded to drive a breathtaking ten laps on the wet. Her race craft only got more refined with each lap, scoring her a provisional fastest lap since her run was incomparable to the dry record. Only after the track had thoroughly dried, she completed one flying lap to beat Grosjean’s record fair and square with a four-tenth gap.

Alby scoffed, knowing Zea had delivered his intention effectively.

It was a long shot, but his call was meant to taunt, like a war cry, signalling that Audi was here, and they weren’t here to play. He meant to taunt the drivers, so they don’t play her down and to taunt the team heads, oh well—to mess their heads a little bit. Let’s say Alby was a bit of a…sucker for drama. 

“Race control decides on a twenty-minute delay. Geez, that’s spot on, Z. You’re scaring me.” Marq relayed the message as soon as it was announced over the radio.

Zea broke into the biggest grin. “I’ll get Ace and Brick ready, then,” she said, stretching her arms before running over to join the mechanic team giving their final touches on the cars. 

“Improve time, over?”

“Negative. Unless track dries by the end of Q2, I’ll go out again.”

“Copy that. Box then.”

The Q1 session stopped following the third Red Flag after Massa slipped on the wet kerbs and spun into the barriers.

Zea had made the call on sticking to her set of Intermediate when it was still too early for slicks. Thanks to that, she was currently leading the qualifying with a massive 9.8 seconds gap from Ricciardo, who followed at P2 in his full Wets.

“That’s a massive gap. That means much control from Sinaga in that set of Intermediate. We saw five drivers spin on that same Inters during Q1. She might as well sit Q2, oh, which she’s already doing right now; her car is sitting in the garage. The rest is still fighting to avoid the cut, but they still haven’t come close to her time. And that is Grosjean, Kvyat, Perez, Raikkonen, Gutierrez and Nasr, out of Q2.”

True to her prediction, out was the sun just in time for Q3. Track temperatures back up to 40C, DRS was enabled; it was Green Flag for the 3rd session. And as soon as it began, Zea was forced to re-enter the track as Hamilton beat her provisional pole by a tenth of a second, followed by Rosberg and now Ricciardo.

“Oh, hell. Look at them ganging up on giving me a hard time. Let a woman have her pole, damn it,” Zea muttered as she readied herself for a flying lap.

“Ace on board, requesting flying lap, over.”

“Copy that, Ace. You are green to fly.”

“It’s the final chance for any last-lap improvements now, and we finally see Sinaga out with her Audi. She’s currently sitting in P9 now after Button. I must say that’s much confidence, coming out only on the final lap.”

“To be fair, if I had that much control over the Intermediate, I’d probably share her confidence. I don’t know if many people were aware of this, but this is not the first time she’d done that on a set of Inters.”

“Yes. I believe it was Catalunya; pre-season testing, yes? Sensational that was.”

“Indeed it was. And right now, everyone is fighting hard for Pole because it’s essential here since the track is difficult to overtake, especially in Sector 2.”

“Oh, look at that! We took our eyes off a little bit, and Alonso spun! That guarantees a Yellow flag now, doesn’t it?! I wonder how many drivers would be caught by that double Yellow…and Sinaga snatches provisional pole!”

“Replay is here. Sinaga, further back in the order, entered Sector 2 after Yellow flags were withdrawn, meaning she wasn’t slowed. Looks like the Yellows caught Ricciardo, Rosberg, and Hamilton!”

“Hell yeah, my first pole?”

“Almost? I want to congratulate you, but I must inform you the stewards have booked you for possible Yellow Flag infringement. You may or may not lose your pole.” Alby sounded devastated over the radio.

“…Right.” Zea exhaled hard. She had expected that to happen as soon as she passed the duo Mercedes and one Red Bull over that double Yellows.

What she didn’t expect was how quickly the stewards would jump her on that mere issue when she’d reckon there was a more crucial issue on hand.

Like… the prospect of perhaps half the grid being thrown into oblivion, otherwise known as the back of the grid?

Her setting a massive gap in Q1 meant that the whole grid had lapped outside of the excess seven per cent time she’d put, meaning if that rule were to be followed literally—she should be the only car allowed to race tomorrow.

Now wouldn’t that be an exciting show? Imagine that; a solo race with a female pilot on board.

But she’d understand that the stewards had permitted the rest to start the race for Sunday, given the exceptional circumstances, and had allowed the five fastest cars to proceed Q2 as normal.

She had shrugged it off.

But then? There were supposedly more penalties to give for Sunday if they were to apply the rule appropriately… Right?

She expected—read: cursed—the FIA board to have a long and nasty night trying to apply that rule without manifesting the image that a) they weren’t being fair to her, and b) she’d brutally murdered the lap time of the whole grid on Intermediate when the others were too chicken to try.

“So? What’s their plan? Cutting the leader altogether? Put me in the back of the pack? Instead of, you know, maybe handing out a charity on grid penalties for the next race?” Zea scoffed sarcastically, keeping her smile on as best as she could as she made her way to the building for the post-qualifying press conference. Elijah had consistently wiped her seemingly unending sweat while Margareth, her PR Manager, kept smiling bitterly at her continuous sarcasm.

“Is this gonna be that thing, you know, the ‘sacrifice one for the greater good’ thing? Is that it?” Zea chuckled at her statement, realising how absurd that had sounded. 

Margareth stepped in front of Zea just before they entered the building. She had felt Zea was sizzling with a much higher sarcasm level than she’d liked. It might’ve been the prior DNFs she’d suffered from the last three races that made this pole more critical for her. 

But they couldn’t risk her being irritable in front of the press, not when they’ve only started getting noticed by sponsors.

“Breathe in. Relax. Don’t get too worked up. Okay? Can we do that?” As much as Margareth acknowledged how unfair it was to demand this from her driver, facing reality was part of the job.

“Yes, Madre.” Zea finally responded after a couple of seconds of silence. But she wasn’t looking at Margareth straight in the eye. She was playing with her shoes.

“Zea.”

“Yes. I know. I promise.” Zea quickly gave her PR Manager an assuring smile as she pushed the door open. “Trust me.”

“Zea, what a dramatic qualifying session. How difficult was it out there, and describe your elation when you saw you had taken pole position at the end?”

Of course, they just had to start with a tragically rhetorical question. Which driver wouldn’t be happy after scoring pole position?

Zea caught sight of Margareth pressing her lips. She sighed.

Well, such a shame because, apparently, Zea was more level-headed than she’d thought.

She squeezed a somewhat strained smile out of her system before answering.

“Uhm… Great? Pretty much like Monaco, we all know Pole is critical here because of the nature of the track. But… you know, maybe cut that elation down to 50%, ‘cause I still don’t know which pole I’m gonna start tomorrow. Is it from the front or the back?”

Everyone laughed as Zea gave her signature smile that swallowed her eyes to a twin crescent moon, masking her annoyance at the FIA. Daniel, who’d start P3 for tomorrow's race, chuckled along.

“Very well, thank you, Zea. Coming to Nico. That was an unbelievably exciting qualifying session ahead of the Hungarian Grand Prix. Timing seemed so important: when to be out on the track to ensure you were there when the track was at its driest. Just give us an insight how tricky it was?”

“Yeah, it was a really challenging qualifying: the conditions changing all the time, very exciting out there. I mean, some kerbs still had some patches—going on to the start-finish straight; you had to be really careful opening DRS.”

Nico paused as he glanced at Zea.

“I don’t know how much Zea was up, but I know I got the fastest first sector, so I felt good on the lap. A bit unfortunate with Fernando, but these things happen. It was a tricky session, especially in Q1. I don’t know how she went that fast on Wets—“

“—she was on Inters,” Daniel said.

“You were on Inters in Q1?” Lewis had to interrupt.

Zea was a bit startled at the sudden attention. The room went into complete silence, expecting her answer.

“Uh,” Zea scratched her head, “Massa was also on Inters—I mean, six drivers were on Inters in Q1?”

“They crashed!”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, before gulping, after realising how that had come out a little too brazen and how uncomfortable the air had become.

Sebastian was the first to scoff, amused when the other drivers sported a defeated look. “You know this little one can be quite spicy on the slippery track!” His comment had successfully toned down the almost hot atmosphere from Zea’s reply.

Zea turned her head a little, just enough to make eye contact with Sebastian, who was sitting behind her, before mouthing a ‘thank you,’ to which the German nodded.

Fortunately, the press picked up quickly after that.

“Lewis, congratulations. I look to Q2 when I look at you. It was very tense moment. You got through into Q3 in P10; your heart must have been in your mouth?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lewis chuckled. “But obviously, when I came in and saw how close it was—that wasn’t great. I was up on my previous, but I knew that everyone else would be quicker. Very fortunate to get through, so that’s why even though I’m fourth, I’m just grateful I got through, and this puts me in a position to be at least able to fight for the win tomorrow.”

“Well Daniel, Lewis wants to fight for the win tomorrow. Seeing that you will share the second starting grid tomorrow, do you think you can fight for the win?”

“That’s the plan.” 

Zea had unknowingly twisted her head in Daniel’s direction, finding herself focusing on his answer. Why she did that, she wasn’t sure. But maybe that Monaco dinner impromptu did something to her. 

“We’ve more or less fought for it the last two years, and I think we’re even closer this year than we have been in the past in terms of pure pace. Tomorrow should be interesting.

“As always, the Mercs have had a good long-run pace; we’ve seen that in free practice, but we’ll be there, and obviously, we start close enough to the front to make a fight for it, and so hopefully, it’s an exciting race.”

No mention of how quick Audi had gotten?

“My question is for Zea.” That immediately pushed Zea to sit up, returning her attention to the press.

“Yep?”

“Looking at your qualifying today, rainy conditions, do you prefer rain conditions tomorrow or a dry race? That’s question number one, and question two: How afraid are you from losing the pole, perhaps after the investigation?”

Here we go.

Zea only had a fraction of a second to think; either give in to her temper and throw shit at the FIA or choose humour.

She chose humour.

Curse her fucking sound mind.

“Well… You know they say I like it wet….”

Once again, she brought laughter to the room with-what her little smirk as she wiggled her eyebrows up and down. And the fact that Daniel had laughed out loud sounded so worth listening to that reasonable side of her head.

“Why are you guys laughing? I’m just answering the question,” fake humour still laced her words.

“Anyway, of course, winning is still number one to me. I literally DNFed in the last three races. Scoring maximum points here is our objective, so I’d prolly say wet—hell, I’d summon the rain if I could. But,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “all the other drivers’ safety is still number zero to me. So, yeah, you do the math.”

We don’t want a repeat of all the spins in Q1 tomorrow, do we?

“Aww, that’s sweet. Didn’t know you could be sweet. I thought you only knew spicy.” The teasing tone in Daniel’s voice was enough to put a smile back on her face. 

“Aww, I’m sorry, P3; have I not been sweet to you?” Zea said, exaggerating her gesture, talking as if Daniel was a little kid throwing a tantrum.

And the Aussie broke into laughter again, making unnecessary adjustments on his hat from trying to swallow the little jab Zea had made on his P3. While Zea had begun wondering just what exactly this man would not smile and laugh at. 

“I’m gonna get you back, woman,” Daniel jabbed.

“Oh, psshh, go ahead, darling; but you have Nico in front of you. Should I ask him to give you some leeway?”

Nico scoffed, knowing the intense fight shared by the two people next to him for the third seat at the Drivers’ Standing, followed by Sebastian cackling at the Aussie. That was quite the random banter for the press, but no denying it had showered relief to the room.

“Second part of the question, Zea?”

“Right. Yeah,” what a way to surly her mood, Zea thought. 

“I think it’s not about me being afraid or not; it’s just, uhm, I didn’t know it even needed processing at all. I mean, rewind the footage. I slowed down enough; saw the double Yellows down; Alonso had cleared the track, so I ran; crossed the chequered flag; the end. Yay, pole! But then they say, nah, we might… be seeing different things. So, yeah, maybe I’m blind?”

“So you’re confident on keeping your pole?”

“I…” Zea had to pause to chuckle. What was his name? This reporter? Ralf? This man seemed to have taken a liking to push the limits of her rationality.

“Look, it’s not—it’s not about that,” she sighed in disbelief. Surely this wasn’t a topic too hard to grasp. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure there’s a more prominent issue the board is supposed to assess, so my yellow situation should get passed on quickly to get to that issue.”

“Right. We’d actually like to get on that.”

Yeah, that little smirk up the corner of his mouth; Zea didn’t like that at all. This Ralf guy? She’d be sure to put him on her red press list. 

“Question to all drivers: there was a major 107% time margin lockup in Q1. We understand that for the sake of Q2, decisions are postponed until after qualifying and are still in progress. What do you have to say to that?”

Zea brought her head down to hide her smirk. Ballsy. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Nico?”

“Uhm, I’m not quite sure how to comment, but of course, exceptional circumstances applied; isn’t that how we could progress to Q2? But yeah, I’m not going to comment too much.”

“Sebastian? Anything to add?”

“I’m… looking forward to the decision, obviously, to see how this particular rule will be interpreted. Quite possibly, we might get penalties for the next race? I’ve said it before the sport has become congested with rules, but this one is a good rule to ensure competitiveness and safety on race day. Problem maybe this little one went too spicy on Q1.”

Lewis giggled at Sebastian’s response. “Yeah, man, I have to agree.”

“Daniel?”

“Yeah, I agree with Seb.” He shifted in his seat. “If I were to add maybe just, depending on interpretation, we might or might not get any race tomorrow? I was obviously among the ones who didn’t lap the 107th time-margin. But yeah, she sat Q2 off. That was kinda a shot to the heart, I would say.”

“Zea? Anything to add?”

Really?

“I… don’t know; I mean, I didn’t go to Law School or Business School; I graduated from an Engineering School,” she was aware that she’d startled everyone with that sudden disclosure, with the press immediately jumping on their keyboards once her sentence registered, and her colleagues’ blatant scepticism in their collective stares. Still, Zea thought this was the perfect opportunity to establish her standpoint within the media and the sports community.

“So interpreting and applying rules—that I would suck, no doubt, so I’m not gonna comment on that. But I’m sure as hell I know how to calculate—and Margareth, my beloved PR manager, is looking at me! Alrighty!” Zea clapped her hands while plastering an exaggerated smile on her face. “I’m sure the board will figure something out to ensure an exciting race tomorrow. They always do. Trust them.” Wow. One point for bullshit, and that is two to zero for the sane part of her head.

The last thing she remembered was Daniel whispering, ‘You went to an Engineering School?!’ before the press ended in a lot of confusion and unanswered questions for her, and she had to face her fate with the stewards.

“Put a smile on your face or something, Sis! You get to keep your pole!”

“Three hours,” Zea slammed the innocent water bottle on the table. “Took them that long to make the most worthless and inconsequential decision ever. Literally. Whatever. I’m still bugged they overrule any potential penalties.”

“It was raining. Prone to accidents. Give them a break.”

“It had stopped raining; the track was drying. So they should rain everyone with grid penalties instead!

“Look, it wasn’t even my fault that I wasn’t chicken enough to try Inters. How could they talk as if my Intermediate choice was ‘deliberate intent for unsafe driving on a wet track?’ Wh—For what? For me to show off?” That was when Elijah decided to shut the conference room door close, fearing the risk of someone else listening.

“Hey, I’m here to race. I’m here to maximise my points. And what about the other five who were also on Inters in Q1? They didn’t say anything about them. And how could they bring up Jules and accuse me of not respecting the double yellows after what had happened to him?

“Besides, it’s not my fault that their rules on double-waved yellows and the 107% are ambiguous. I’ve exercised enough caution! And my telemetry showed! 

“I knew it wasn’t the issue there; they just had to make up something to call me in. I knew it! They were still mad I kicked their shin on cockpit safety back in 2014!” Zea huffed, banging herself to the back of the seat, visibly frustrated.

“Wow, how mature. Holding a grudge for two fuckin’ years because they can’t handle me shoving facts up their arses. Accurate display of maturity, there,” she tried to sound more gentle after realising how much she was being overtaken by her temper. 

Irza stood up, snickering as he did so. His little sister was in that mood: the cranky one after being subjected to a prejudiced trial. Not her worse, but nonetheless, the hardest for her to mask. Yes, she could’ve laughed every other insult off, but being a victim of biased thinking? Hell, no. He knew how much she’d wanted to do well this season.

Hungary was supposed to be the turning point. 

After all that hard-fought additional cash, Audi had finally managed to make the necessary upgrade, and this weekend was supposed to be their first step to regain their lead on the Bulls. 

“Look at the bright side; you’re going viral—like real viral. Good sponsorship exposure. Let’s focus on that instead.”

“But it’s the bad viral, isn’t it?” Zea shuddered. “What—have they started saying I’ve faked my academic credentials now?”

“Oh, amorzinho, stop being so negative,” Irza threw his hands. “You literally have your face plastered on the university website and your dissertation published. Digital tracks are real. And besides, your colleagues have spoken up for you on social media, and I literally have your graduation photo on my Instagram.”

Zea fell into silence. Good thing she didn’t buy her way into her degree but worked her arse off instead.

God help her, for she’d been a geek her entire life. Her best friends were books and pens, sometimes numbers and data. Her hangout place of choice was the lab, and her means of salvation was high grades. And her dad being the front-runner of the ‘education is number one’ mentality, and her mom just nodding on the side, mouthing ‘just listen to your dad for now’ didn’t help either.

No, they weren’t exactly your tiger parents, and newsflash—her familial relationship was quite fine—or was now fine might be more appropriate. But yeah, that’s another story.

“Get some rest.”

“Don’t go big-brother on me. You’re only 3 hours older.”

“Excuse me, Miss?” Irza turned his head with much sass, “I’m saying this as your agent, not your big brother. You’re my investment, so I need you to perform well tomorrow. Duh.”

Zea clicked her tongue at her twin’s sassiness. “Where are you going?” she pushed herself from the back of the chair when she saw Irza about to take off with his jacket.

“Well, now that you’re done with your work on track, I have to work off track. Get some rest.”

Zea scrunched up her face. “Work hard. Stay safe.”

And Alby chuckled, which compelled Zea to turn her head in his direction. He gave her a small smile, but it was enough to straighten back the folds between the eyebrows of his star driver. She softened her demeanour. “I have a legitimate reason to be upset, Alby. You know that,” she muttered softly. 

Alby kept his smile, assuring she did nothing wrong, as he leaned back on his chair.

After all, faulting her was one thing he would never do. Grateful was an understatement of what he’d felt towards the twins. Indebted was perhaps closer, with a splash of pride that they’d pledged their loyalty to Audi.

He still remembered it as clear as day. The night Irza came to him, boring his name naked. He was sent speechless. 

“Okay. You are a very straightforward young man. How did you know we were planning on entering next season?”

“News spread fast in this industry, Mr Krüger; I’m sure you’d know better. Besides, you’re not entirely being secretive with the preparation: prototype, job posted and everything,” Irza had said as he slid his name card on the table, which immediately stunned Alby.

He had to check twice to ensure he didn’t read wrong. “…I didn’t know he had a son?”

Irza chuckled at the false impression. “Nephew. And my sister, his niece.”

At first, Alby didn’t budge. He was aware that this ‘Zeahire’ was the 2013 GP2 Champion. But other than her being a female, quite a decent driver, not much was known about her—hell, not even her face. 

Being his niece should not directly translate to her ability, and besides, her being a woman did not exactly hold a high sponsorship prospect. 

“How are you confident we haven’t signed anyone?”

“You wouldn’t have met me otherwise, Mr Krüger,” Irza was calm and confident. “Although half of it might be to have me stop bothering you daily with emails.” That got Alby chuckling.

“Let her drive for Audi. Give her car; she’ll give you result.”

Alby had cut the cards to honour the name and decided to summon her to the Neuburg site, the heart of Audi motorsport, for some testing, albeit hesitant.

By the time she got there, it had just finished raining. Petrichor was still fresh in the air, and drops of water still lingered on the tarmac. 

Both Alby and Frank had hesitated to run her for the sake of safety. But Zea had other thoughts.

“Let me run. You summoned me here to gauge my ability, didn’t you? All the more reason,” she’d sounded so sure that Alby found himself nodding his head. 

And then, the rest was history. 

Alby blinked his eyes at the fond memory. Two years of partnership now had made him quite fond of the twins. Blame his age, though. 

“I’m sorry, Alby. I know I’ve put you in a tough position with the FIA because—“

“—No, no. Forget about it.” Alby gave her a reassuring smile. “Your brother is right. You need enough rest for tomorrow. So get some rest.”

Let’s say this was part of her routine; watching the GP2 race that preceded the Formula One Grand Prix, just as a way to get herself into the zone for the race. Zea argued that there were always things she could learn from them. 

And ‘them’ for her this year was Pierre Gasly and Antonio Giovinazzi. They’d both been the favourite contender for the 2016 GP2 Champion title, but Zea was leaning more towards Gasly, who had just secured his win in Hungary. Problem was; the Frenchman belonged to the Bulls. Yikes.

“That’s not fair, you know,” Zea nudged Elijah’s shoulder. “He’s hot. Like, hot.” 

The two watched from the pit lane as the Frenchman indulged himself in victory. Half of his body soaked in fresh champagne just honestly added to his hotness it was almost indecent.

“Which one is he again? Left? Right?”

“Left,” Zea quickly nodded, not leaving her eyes off the winner. 

“Good. You can have the Ratatouille. Leave the Pasta for me.”

The laugh that came out from Zea was crispy and delightful. She was even clapping like a seal.

Thank goodness for Elijah and his foul mouth. She could always talk about these things openly with him to ease her nerves. Irza and her two older brothers would only end up teasing her, and her little sister was—she deemed—too young to understand, despite their only four years of age gap. 

“Look, your Ratatouille is heading this way.”

“Yeah, I know—SHIT! WHAT?! He’s heading this way. Why is he heading this way?! Oh my God, he must’ve caught me looking at him! Eli, quick! Hide me!”

But it was too late. Pierre Gasly was already towering in front of her, watching her frantically flailing her arms in the air as she attempted to hide half of herself behind Elijah.

And Elijah decided it was time to be an arse.

In one quick move, he shifted his feet and shoved Zea out front before giving her a wink and running his way to the Audi garage. 

That damn bastard.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Zea waved her hand, “You are Pierre Gasly. I am Zea.” Anyone would like to hand her the award for Best at Embarrassing Herself?

Pierre tried to stifle his chuckle as he watched her shut her eyes, visibly regretting what she had just said before the colour on her face changed to light pink.

“Hello, ‘I am Zea’. I am Pierre, the hot stuff.”

The two looked at each other before finally laughing at their dumb exchange. Well, that was one way to shut off all the budding awkwardness. 

“I actually want to congratulate you for the pole position. I watched the Quali yesterday. I don’t know how you did that.” Pierre looked impressed. One thing that would never fail to bring Zea’s spirit back up was receiving genuine acknowledgment of her race craft from fellow drivers. Especially from someone as hot as Pierre Gasly.

“Oh? Geez, thanks! So you came here because you wanted to say that, not because you caught me staring at you…”

“So you were looking at me? I had my doubts, but—“

“—I was looking at the winner of the race. It just happens to be you.”

Pierre gave her that look—the ‘rea~lly?’ look, with his eyebrows up and a little smirk riding the corner of his mouth. Zea frowned, trying to hide her embarrassment. 

“Please pretend I didn’t say that,” Zea made a dismissive wave with her hand, “and congratulations on winning. Do you want a fist bump?” she quickly said as she watched Pierre fixing his hair—still wet from the champagne—over his Red Bull cap. “I’d rather have kisses on the cheek, but a fist bump works, too,” he said as he offered up his fist with a cheeky smile. 

“Holy God, you are a major flirt.” That came out almost automatically from Zea. “Thank goodness you have that handsome face of yours,” she continued, bumping her fist with Pierre. 

Pierre sported another smile. A really hot one, might she add. 

“Good. So you do think I’m handsome.”

That got Zea’s mouth open in shock. She was about to accuse him of being cocky before she captured tinges of a blush forming upon his pale cheeks. She chuckled, returning to her composed self. Two can play this game. 

“Well, ‘handsome Pierre’, I better go to my garage and get myself race-ready. See you around.”

“Good luck!” he almost had to yell that out since Zea just ran away after saying that.

Zea turned her head, smiling her thanks at him before sprinting to the Audi garage. She didn’t even realise she’d run past Daniel, who’d raised his arm to greet her. He’d been wanting to call out to her but didn’t out of respect for the Frenchman. 

“Didn’t know she knew Gasly,” Daniel muttered as he strode his way to Pierre. “You two know each other?”

“Now we do.” Pierre returned Daniel’s fist bump. 

“Oh.” Daniel could’ve sworn he saw the flush in Pierre’s cheeks as he smiled, looking in Zea’s direction. Must’ve been the fatigue from the race, right?

Daniel shook his head. “Congratulations on your win, mate! Great race!”

“Already there, Sinaga lining up in pole position, and she is gonna have to wait a very long time for the rest to catch up. So those breaks, those tyres, you were talking about, Martin, getting ever colder by the second!”

“Ace to Cap, T-Square cover.” Zea was indeed concerned about her tyres’ temperature. She went too quickly for the formation lap, which might impede her from having a good start if her tyres’ temperature dropped unnecessarily from waiting for the others.

“Ah, radio! Sinaga is going all cryptic again! Wonder what T-Square meant there. Although Audi can’t respond to her before the race begins, that’s the rule.”

“Audi has been very subtle with their radio exchange this season, yes. Could it be their way to eliminate possible threats from overhearing? I heard Zea is very much involved in their strategy building.”

“But haven’t they gone up in the Constructors’ Standing? They shouldn’t be too incriminated with quid now.”

“Indeed, they have this season, but I reckon they still have a long way up to catch up with the Bulls, Mercs and Ferrari for capital assets. You know the competition is high for that position.”

“I suppose you are right. And now we have Ricciardo, winner from 4th of the grid back in 2014; followed by Lewis Hamilton; he’s won 4 times here, and just ahead of him, Rosberg on the first line had never won the Prix here. Zea Sinaga on Pole had never been on Podium in Hungary, and this also makes it her first pole start in Formula One this afternoon.”

Zea cracked her fingers to loosen them up before placing her hand back on the steering wheel. 

“Okay, buddy. It’s just you and me now. Let’s put ‘em all to sleep,” she whispered softly to the car. It was part of her ritual just seconds before the lights were out. 

“And we’re all set to go here in Hungaroring. AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT, AND AWAY WE GO!”

“Sinaga gets away really well, and she and Rosberg making the run now down towards turn 1. Right behind them, Vettel’s waiting, Ricciardo’s waiting, Verstappen on the inside, and around the outside goes Daniel Ricciardo!”

“Sinaga takes the lead ahead of Ricciardo, Rosberg down to third, he’s been pressurised now by Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, with Sebastian Vettel ahead of Alonso!”

“Sinaga into turn 3, Hamilton claims second place, passing his teammate and the Red Bull, but the Red Bull is not giving up!”

“Cap to Ace. Order Ham, Ric, Ros, Ver, Vet. Catching up at one-tenth.”

“Copy that, Cap.”

“Whoa! Wonderful skills were displayed in Sector 1 alone; the top six were fighting it out there. I really thought the Mercedes boys were gonna be leading this by now, but the Audi girl has placed her car beautifully there!”

Astounding opening for the Hungarian Grand Prix. Not the Bulls, the Mercs, the red devils of Ferrari, nor the dark horse Audi; none were willing to give up the number one spot.

It was down to lap fourteen when Sebastian was the first of the front runners to pit, and then the Red Bulls and the Mercedes boys followed the lap after. 

“Sinaga is the only one with used Super-soft now! Is she doing early tyre management to keep her position?”

“I wouldn’t say that. She’s a tad too focused on managing her gap; I’m actually scared for her pace. She’s only leading by one second ahead of Lewis.”

“Lewis, Sinaga reports on increasing gap after turn 11. And box after that lap,” Peter ‘Bono’ Bonnington, Lewis’ race engineer, said over the radio.

“You guys manage to crack her code?”

“She said it in full sentences. In English.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe her,” Daniel responded over the radio after Simon relayed the same message Bono did. 

“We can’t risk it, Dan.”

“Well can she do that? Gap increase?” Daniel turned his steering wheel to defend himself as he saw Rosberg peeking in his side mirror.

“We think she wants to exhaust her tyres and then pit.”

“I’ll try catching up.”

Red Bull number three rushed to close the gap with the Mercedes in front of him to capitalise on DRS.

“Ok, Daniel. Doing a good job, mate. You are two seconds quicker than Rosberg at the moment, and you are six seconds behind Lewis.”

“So Lewis, just need to pick up pace a little bit. Sinaga is really pitting.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Sinaga finally pitted for her second stint. Will Lewis finally take over the lead?”

“…NO! Lewis looks to be struggling with pace, with Ricciardo closing in and Sinaga regaining her lead! Just with less than a 1-second gap between Sinaga and Lewis! Sinaga is really putting her fresh Soft at work!”

“I’m struggling for pace.” Lewis exhaled hard as he felt his car lose its front grip.

“Okay, Lewis. So Ricciardo’s about to get onto the back of the train, so we really need to open this gap up.”

Lewis groaned. “Well, I’m driving to the best of my ability on these tyres.”

“Okay, copy that, Lewis. If these cars bunch up, then we’ll be bringing Nico in first.”

“Well, why would they do that? It’s not like I’m driving slow; I’m trying.”

“Yeah, Lewis. Just the risk we’re putting the win in jeopardy. We need to catch up with Sinaga.”

And then it was lap forty.

Almost too collectedly, Zea turned her car to enter the pit lane after building a decent gap against Lewis. 

“Lewis, Sinaga turns into the pit lane.”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No, there wasn’t any radio. You need to pick up pace.”

“Sinaga into the pit lane! What is this? There was no communication!  Oh no! Was it a mistake? Is this gonna be a repeat akin to Ricciardo’s nightmare in Monaco?! Would her team even be ready?! THEY ARE READY! What a turn of situation!”

“Lewis is currently in the lead, but I’m afraid with his used Softs, it’s only a matter of time before Sinaga comes back… AND SHE REGAINS THE LEAD!”

“Someone wants to tell me what the hell was that?” Daniel cried over the radio.

“Sorry, Daniel, we monitored her radio, but there was no communication. Keep calm. You’re only four seconds behind Lewis; you’re doing a good job keeping Rosberg out of your DRS zone.”

“Fuck.” Daniel knew he could be up to P2 with Lewis in P1 if only they knew Zea would pit there. 

“Cap to Ace. Gap 2.0. Order Ham, Ric, Ros, Vet, Ver, Kimi.”

“Copy that. Keep gap posted.”

“Roger that, Ace.”

With only twenty laps left, it was down to tyre management.

Zea took a heavy breath as Esteban Gutierrez, for whatever reason—perhaps he couldn’t see her—positioned his car in front of her, playing defensively.

“Sinaga has been held up by Gutierrez, and Hamilton looks to pounce and cuts the deficit to 0.6 seconds! And we have radio from Sinaga.”

“Gap to Ham down to sixth-tenth. Gutierrez should be booked.”

“Copy that.”

“Well, doesn’t she sound unaffected?”

“Ah, she never sounded affected over her radios, I reckon, always calm; plus point for her engineers, might I add. And message from Race Control; Gutierrez is being investigated for ignoring blue flags on that Sinaga incident.”

“And we have here Raikkonen pushing well on his new Super-softs, is now on the rear of Verstappen in the battle for sixth place.”

“Raikkonen gained a whole second on Verstappen on the last lap and is sizing the teenager up!”

“Message from Race Control; Gutierrez has been given a five-second penalty for ignoring blue flags! And we have radio from Raikkonen.”

“He moved right and then back to left when I was going there! I took my f****** front wing off!”the Finn roared his outrage.

“Copy, copy. Keep pushing on the way in.”

“Looks like Verstappen moved twice to block Raikkonen at turn two!”

“Will he be booked for possible penalty?”

“We’ll have to see that.”

“Up ahead, the cat-and-mouse game continues between Audi, Mercedes and Red Bull, with the gap falling by four-tenths between Sinaga and Hamilton. Now at 2.3 seconds.”

“Ace, Ham is 2 seconds behind.”

“Copy that. Request T-Deg, over.”

“Lewis, Sinaga is being cryptic,” it was Bono who had acted first.

“What did she say?”

“She said ’Deg’; we suspect it may be degradation.”

“So she’s saving tyres, right? What do I do?”

“We must keep pushing, but try to manage tyres as much as possible.”

“I’m trying. Can you check her degradation?”

“Not directly, but her pace hasn’t dropped much. We suspect she might not be saving tyres at all. But she will soon have to, and that’s when we cut.”

“I’ll do my best,” Daniel responded as Simon briefed him on Zea’s radio.

“Okay, just keep calm. Maintain pace.”

“I will. But I’m starting to lose grip; front is acting out,” he groaned soon. 

“Copy, Daniel. Maintain pace.”

“We have ten laps to go; current order on top ten—Sinaga, Hamilton, Ricciardo, Rosberg, Vettel, Verstappen, Raikkonen, Alonso, Stevens, and Sainz.”

“Right now, the battles are happening all across the top seven. Hamilton is close to Sinaga after she made a mistake in the final sector. Looks like she’s starting to lose grip there. Rosberg is closing in on Ricciardo for third, and Raikkonen and Verstappen continue to hassle Vettel for fifth!”

Tense was the atmosphere in the Audi garage. Irza, who just came in, immediately sat next to Marq, propping the radio over his ears. “Did she pit at 40?”

Marq nodded, concern visible in his eyes.

“How much is she losing grip?”

“Degradation up to 47% now.” Marq was on the edge of his seat. 

It wasn’t just Marq, but everyone was mirroring his tension. Jack couldn’t let his eyes off the monitor. Vishal Robert, Zea’s main mechanic, tapped his feet repeatedly, and Alby’s breathing was heavy.

“Well,” Irza clapped his hand together. “Let’s brace ourselves, then.”

“Into the closing stage now of a cagey but intriguing race in Hungary! We have three laps remaining! Will Sinaga keep her lead and come out victorious?!”

“Sinaga is slowing down! Is it engine problem?! Her three previous DNFs were due to engine problems! Will her race ends in another DNF?!”

“I can see Zea. Has she slowed down?” Daniel implored over the radio.

“Is she losing power? Bono, is she losing power?” Lewis followed.

“What is happening?! I can see slight smoke coming from the back of Sinaga’s car! Do we have no radio from Sinaga?!”

“Push Lewis! Push!”

“We don’t know what’s happening; just push Daniel!”

Zea glanced at her wing mirrors after downshifting as she continued her throttle-break interval, biasing her breaks to the rear to forcefully spin her tyres. She chuckled, knowing what she was about to do would undoubtedly piss her colleagues off—if she made it, that is. 

But this was her grand finale in today’s act of strategy masterclass. It was a gamble, nonetheless, because she was dangerously losing grip after pitting too early in lap forty, and this was the only way she could cross the chequered flag before the other two catch her up with DRS.

“Sinaga is losing her pace? Is she losing her pace? We have absolutely no confirmation from Audi! And both Ricciardo and Hamilton are charging straight ahead!”

“Oh my goodness! This has turned into a close battle for the top three between Sinaga, Hamilton, and Ricciardo! Listen to that cheer as the final battle between Audi, Mercedes and Red Bull is on!”

“It is now down to who could make use of the DRS first to catch—WHAT IS SINAGA DOING?!”

A deep breath from Zea, eyes on her rear mirrors, mentally calculating her move.

And as soon as Lewis and Daniel were just half-tenth before DRS would be available for them against herself, she put her left hand up as her right foot butchered down on the throttle.

Adios, motherfuckers.

“…S-s-she waved to both Hamilton and Ricciardo! Before quite literally launching over to cross the chequered flag! AND SINAGA WINS THE HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX! It’s Audi who snatch the win!”

“She wasn’t losing power! She was not losing power! She was warming—or should I say heating?!— up her rear tyres to gain enough momentum!”

“My oh my, I have no doubt that would certainly piss both the Red Bull and Mercedes! Although I believe that was a gamble! One thing for sure here is Sinaga really was losing grip there, so she had to pull off that move!”

“What a move, though! What a move! That was brave! She could’ve lost her tyres there!”

“But she didn’t! I have to say she really has mastered her car, hasn’t she?!”

“Man, she’s so annoying. She is so annoying.” Crestfallen was beyond what Lewis felt when he passed the chequered flag in less than one-tenth of a second after the Audi lady. 

“Damn her! Seriously.” Daniel was also not less happy as he felt like he’d just been played, especially with that last wave of her hand.

In the Audi garage, however, was a silent celebration. It was quite literally just everyone finally letting out a long, relieved breath after unconsciously holding it as they watched Zea pull that last crazy gamble of a stunt.

“Z, congratulations.” Marq chimed, sounding exhausted.

On the other line of the radio, Zea chuckled softly. “Thank you, Marq. What a ride, huh?”

“Yeah, you psycho,”the reply came fast and gritty.“What if something went wrong?”

“It was a calculated move, and nothing bad happened. Rest easy, Marq… and thank you for trusting me. Really.”

⬅️ Chapter 02 | MASTERLIST | Chapter 04 ➡️

__________

That was loooong. I'm kinda happy with how the race bit turned out so I hope it's nice! And also, I’m kinda bothered by how I wrote the flashbacks, it’s like should I put them in italics or not but I decided on not. But do let me know if it gets confusing 👉🏻👈🏻

__________

Tag list:

@scotlynaurora @squidwardsluverxx

[xiaq]

Ok I'm probably not going to say this right but after your last post I have have a question I guess? I don't really like sex and I love the idea of a relationship that doesn't require sex to be happy and healthy. I really relate to the whole not being anxious about taking a shower together or expectations or wahtever that you talked about but I've never experienced it before. Is that something you get from dating a friend? I guess I just want to know how you get to a place like that.

CW for sex talk. Hello friend. Apparently today is the day for Long Ass Ask Answers.

I wish someone had told me this years ago so I’m saying it to you now in case it saves you some angst:

Don’t settle for bad sex.

If you don’t like the sex you’re having, stop. If you don’t like having sex at all—neat! You’ll have so much time for other activities. You do not owe yourself to anyone, under any circumstances, even if you’re socially trained to think you do.

Listen. I took PhD qualifying exams in Feminist theory. And even I had more or less submitted myself to the idea that sex just wasn’t going to be that fun for me and I’d need to learn to deal or be alone.

I admittedly have very little sexual experience, but the experience I had up until my current relationship was lackluster. I wasn’t repulsed by sex, but it was eh at best and painful at worst and I’d never initiated a sexual situation in my life because A. ultra conservative Christian doctrine during your formative years can seriously fuck up your perception of intimacy in general (insert Youth Pastor Voice here: “men enjoy the act of sex, women enjoy the results of sex: children”) and B. I just…would rather do all sorts of other things. Sex was a thing other people wanted from me and if I cared about them I was supposed to provide it.

Objectively, I knew this was wrong. And yet.

Let me lay out some Inarguable Truths for you. Sex should not:

hurt (unless you want it to)

make you uncomfortable

make you feel dread or guilt before or afterward

be used as leverage

be coerced

be treated as a necessity by your partner

I told my current partner at the very beginning of our relationship (when I was trying to convince him that he didn’t actually want to be in a relationship with me) that I didn’t particularly enjoy sex, that I really didn’t like penetrative sex, and I that wasn’t willing to pretend otherwise anymore.

His response: “then we won’t have sex.”

Let me tell you, that threw me for a loop. I was expecting the more typical, “you’d enjoy sex with me” or even “what a waste.”

“Ever?” I asked.

“Ever.”

Well, okay then.

After a couple of weeks, I decided to try anyway. Not because I felt pressured but because I was curious. I thought maybe there would be one of those fanfic/romance novel moments and, suddenly, I’d love sex because I’d found The Right Person. Reader, I did not get my moment. Except for this time, I didn’t feel like I had to just suck it up. So we stopped. We made stir fry and cuddled and talked about the RMS Carpathia and Abraham Lincoln’s assassination (any nerds know what these things have in common?) instead. A+ evening.

A week later, he came to me, and after spending a surfeit of time qualifying what he was about to say with assurances that he didn’t expect anything from me, etc., etc. he told me he’d done some research because he was concerned there was an underlying issue causing my pain/discomfort. I hadn’t ever thought to ask my doctor because, at my pap/annual exam each year, they’d say my downstairs parts looked fine and send me on my way. Surely they would have said something? But I made an appointment with an OB and I brought a list of questions.

Did you know that endometriosis can make penetrative sex hella painful? Did you know that, if you have an autoimmune disease, even if you’re managing it well, you might deal with significant inflammation the week before your period, which can also make sex hella painful? Did you know that if you’re a small human you might just have a lower cervix which can (surprise) make sex hella painful? Did you know that there are things you can do to at least somewhat ameliorate these issues? Did you know that, when you stop viewing sex as an uncomfortable thing you have to provide and instead view it as an optional activity where you have full autonomy, you suddenly stop feeling guilt and dread at the very concept of physical intimacy and can actually, maybe, enjoy it? I do now. I didn’t for 15 years.

Do not settle for bad sex. Because if someone isn’t willing to sort out why you’re uncomfortable, and how to change your approach to intimacy to fix it, they’re probably not a good partner for you. If you simply don’t want sex and your partner insists on it, they’re probably not a good partner for you. There is a whole spectrum of reasons why you might not enjoy sex and I obviously can’t speak to all of them but Please. Learn from my mistakes. When you start drawing hard lines you're going to make progress, one way or another. Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re broken or undesirable if you’re not interested in sex. That’s a them problem, not a you problem.

I arrived to the place I'm at in my current relationship because I advocated for myself and said I wasn't willing to do something that made me uncomfortable. And my partner, who views me as a three-dimensional human being with more to offer the world than my body, immediately validated my feelings and agreed not to push my boundaries. Was the fact that we were friends for years helpful there? Sure. Because I already implicitly trusted him. But the important thing here is to know your limits and be willing to stick up for yourself. If you're explicit about your desires, it's easier to find the folks who are a good fit for fulfilling those desires.

[asirensrage]

there's a heaven above you (don't you cry) - Part 8

Rating: M Pairing: Lost Boys/OC Fandom: The Lost Boys Warnings: swearing, self-criticism and violence Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about time travel is that you don’t have any control over where you end up or when you leave. It just happens. It also hurts like a bitch. Notes: This will be a poly pairing, so if you’re not into that, don’t read. previous/masterlist also on ao3 and ffn

Part 8: Papa Don't Preach

She woke up in her bed. For a second she thought it was a dream before she moved and realized how tender she felt. Definitely real. She stumbled out of bed and headed straight for the shower. How did she get home? And why couldn’t she remember it? Darcy wasn’t that deep of a sleeper, not when around people she didn’t know. Even in the post-sex haze, she should have at least been aware of getting here. It wasn’t like he could have driven her back on the motorcycle if she was sleeping.

Darcy got into the shower, still trying to figure it out. There were bruises on her thighs and nail marks on her hips. That was unusual. Men rarely had nails long enough to leave any. She traced them lightly with her fingers, standing under the hot water when it hit her. They didn’t use protection.

“Shit!” It turned into the fastest shower Darcy had ever taken. “Motherfucking shit!” She had been so wrapped up in the man, in his stupid fucking praise and mad fine skills that she didn’t even think. She was an idiot.

How could she forget about something so fucking important? She could practically hear her sister telling her she was stupid, her mother’s sigh of disappointment and the way her father would say it was typical. She shouldn’t have expected the man to be prepared or to actually take responsibility.

It took a few moments before she remembered the fact that Planned Parenthood existed. She thanked whatever higher power was out there that she hadn’t been sent back to somewhere before it was formed. The phonebook was buried in one of the drawers of the nightstand, next to the bible she had tossed in haphazardly. She didn’t expect to need either.

It didn’t take too long to find the entry. San Jose. The same place as the concert that made her fucking lower her guard and get herself into this mess. She should have just gone home. She should have listened to her instincts and told the men to shove it...more than she already did.

Cursing the rotary phone for how long it took to dial, she sat on the bed, still dripping and wrapped in the scratchy motel towel, with the earpiece held between her shoulder and head. It felt like forever before someone finally answered.

“Hello, Planned Parenthood?”

“Hi, um, do you guys have walk-in services?”

There was a pause. “We do. What service are you looking for?”

“I need an STD test. How much is that going to cost?” Darcy tried to quell the panic that she felt growing in the base of her throat.

“We have a sliding scale. You’ll need your ID--”

“I don’t have it,” she said quickly. There was silence from the other end and she thought quickly of an excuse. “My boyfriend, he...he doesn’t let me keep it.”

There was another beat of silence before the woman on the other end spoke, her tone slightly softer than before. “Of course. It’s mainly to qualify for free services but it’s not required. And for your safety, we can arrange something like that you call us to get your results instead of a call or letter from us.”

There was a slight release of pressure and Darcy sighed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, honey. You get yourself here, we’ll help you out. We also have resources available, but we can cover that when you’re here.”

She didn’t know what type of resources she’d need. Darcy might know more about what STDs are out there than the general public just from the internet. “Thanks. I’ll...I’ll get there as soon as I can.” She hung up.

So fucking stupid.

Darcy had money saved. She made a call to Sampson saying she was sick and unable to open the store. He told her not to worry about it, to open it when she was better and that he’d check on it in the meantime. Half the time it felt like she was the owner and him the employee. She had no idea how he managed before she showed up.

She grabbed and hid enough money to hopefully cover the test and a motel if she needed to spend the night. She might stay a night regardless of whether or not it was needed. Darcy needed a break from the men following her around at night. She needed space to breathe and the last time she had intended that...well, it led her to where she was now.

It wasn’t hard to catch a bus out to San Jose. The drive felt like it took hours instead of the one and a half that she had been told it would. It took another 20 minutes to find the place.

She was still mentally cursing herself as she walked in. She felt like a kid again, ashamed for not thinking something through that wasn’t entirely her fault. The woman at the desk was kind, gave her some forms to fill out and told her to wait. Darcy sat back in the plastic chair available and tried to distract herself by coming up with realistic-sounding information for the sheets.

The entire thing took about an hour, including having a woman offer her birth control so she wouldn’t be baby-trapped, thank god for her implant, and try to give her ways that she could leave the imaginary boyfriend who held her ID. Eventually, Darcy just took the info so she could get out of there without any more fuss.

San Jose wasn’t that exciting of a town in the daylight. Part of her wanted to just go back to the motel she found and crash. Possibly hole up with some junk food and pray that she hadn’t caught chlamydia or something. Did the treatments for sexually transmitted infections change over the decades? God, what if it didn’t work? What if she had something that she knew could be fixed but they didn’t yet. This problem had never occurred to her when she thought about time travel. You never think, Darcy. She shoved that thought down. It wasn’t true, but it fucking felt like it now. Fuck it. She stopped wandering around and found a place to grab a burger. She’d hit up a store on the way back to the motel, nicer than the one in Santa Carla, and not come out until sunrise. Maybe then she’d feel a bit more like herself.

Eighties TV did not provide the distraction she was looking for. Especially since channel surfing was such a tedious thing to do. She missed Netflix. Now that she was alone and the panic of the morning had faded with getting the test done, she was able to actually think about the other night.

She sat outside the motel room, sitting on the stoop and smoking. No matter what the laws were, she couldn’t bring herself to smoke indoors. You’re ours and we’re yours. That was what Dwayne said before all fucking sense left her and she got on that bike.

“Makes no fucking sense,” she muttered, flicking the ashes off of her cigarette. People didn’t want her. She learned that a long time ago. At best they seemed to tolerate her or keep her around because she had something that they wanted. Her own family didn’t even like her and that was fine. She stopped giving a shit a long time ago. But now she had potential psychopaths following her around, telling her she belonged with them...and they were really attractive, even with their stupid hair. Dwayne had even a chance to murder her last night and instead he gave her funnel cake and ate her out before they had sex. He kept using the term we too.

Not that that really surprised her with the way David has kissed her in the store, or the way they all seemed to flirt, but this was new fucking territory.

She took another drag, staring out at the passing cars on the road. He said they’d give her everything. Darcy just didn’t know how she could trust it. She didn’t know if she wanted it. The memory of Dwayne between her thighs sprung to mind and she shifted in place. That was a lie. She wanted everything they offered, she just didn’t trust it. Not without some sort of catch.

She smothered the tip of the cigarette into the ground and stood up. She didn’t need this. She was going to get these stupid test results, murder Dwayne if he actually gave her anything, and then tell the rest of them to fuck off. She was better off alone.

She went back to Santa Carla the next day.

A quick call to Sampson letting him know she was fine and Darcy was back to opening the store. She fell back into the routine of checking the donation bin, throwing things in the wash and helping the few customers that did walk in.

Clark appeared as usual but Darcy stopped what she was doing as soon as she saw him.

“What the hell happened to you?”

He shifted in place. On the side of his face was a large bruise that almost looked as though he had been shoved into something. She was gone for one whole day. If the Surf Nazis actually harmed the kid, she was going to ensure they all drowned the next time they were chasing waves.

“Clark? What the fuck happened?”

“They were looking for you,” he said. His hand brushed his cheek when he went to push his hair back and she caught the wince.

“Who?”

He stepped back at her tone. “The guys from the other day. The Lost Boys.”

She leaned forward, watching him carefully. “They hurt you?” She asked softly.

“He was just looking for you. Said they couldn’t find you.”

Darcy tried to calm down so she didn’t scare him. “Which one?” Clark shifted again, looking like he was about to run out of the store so he didn’t have to answer her. “Clark. Who was it?”

“The leader. With the white hair.”

Forget Dwayne. Darcy was going to murder David first. Painfully. She wasn’t going to have to worry about showing up on those missing posters because she was going to put them there first.

Stewing in her anger, she didn’t see Clark leave. She was half tempted to go and find them immediately but she had no idea where. It was fine. They’d find her eventually and she’d deal with them then. In the meantime, she’d plan.

She closed the shop before sundown. She didn’t want them to find her there in case she ended up murdering him. Cleaning that much blood would be hell, or so she imagined. Really, she just wasn’t able to concentrate and felt so strung up from the previous day and the news that Clark had been hurt.

It had been one day. If she hadn’t made the decision to tell them to fuck off before, it was cemented now. This was why cellphones were necessary. Then again, they probably would have found her in San Jose if she had one. That left her with one option in her opinion.

She went to the boardwalk.

They didn’t appear until the sun went down. She heard the motorcycles first and the sounds of people diving out of the way. It wasn’t hard to blend into the crowd once she wrapped her hair with a scarf she borrowed from the shop. People gave her a wide berth as she walked up behind the men who seemed to be scanning the crowd.

They didn’t notice. She pulled out the same knife she had used to cut the brake line of that asshole's car and slashed the tires of each of the motorcycles. They were so certain that no one would touch their bikes, they didn’t have a single precaution for them. The sound of the people screaming on the rides of the boardwalk hid the air whooshing out.

Some of the people around who saw her stared in shock. She closed the knife, slipped it back into her pocket before adjusting the grip on the bat she had brought with her. She moved forward until she was nearly right behind them, lifted it and slammed it down on David’s back. She was aiming for his head.

He stumbled forward before turning with a snarl until he saw her. He straightened and she ignored the calls of her name from the others. She lifted the bat again and slammed it across his face. This time she didn’t miss. The cigarette fell from his lips. He didn’t look angry though. Instead, he looked pleased.

“You motherfucker!”

He wiped his bleeding lip and smirked at her. “Where you been, Darcy?”

“Don’t fucking Darcy me!” she snarled, pointing the bat at him. “Why the fuck did you hurt Clark?”

“You were gone, babe,” one of the others said. “We were worried.”

“Bullshit.” That seemed to make David drop the amusement on his face. “That doesn’t give any of you a fucking excuse to hurt a kid.” She looked over at all of them, ignoring the way people were staring. “I don’t know who the fuck you assholes think you are, but I’m done. You ever touch Clark again, I’ll beat your fucking head in until your brains are fish food, got it?”

David nearly snarled, moving forward faster than she expected and grabbed her arm that held the bat. His grip was firm but tight. “Your friend wouldn’t tell us where you were,” he said.

“Let go,” she warned, ready to shove her fingers into his eyes if she had to.

He leaned down, staring at her intently. “Where were you, Darcy?” Where were you? The sounds of the boardwalk faded around her and she dropped the bat.

“San Jose.” She didn’t know why she said that.

“What were you doing in San Jose?” his voice was low. Tell me.

She scowled. “I had an appointment at the clinic and I needed space. Because I fucked your friend and -” his grip on her arm tightened slightly and pain cut through the haze. The sounds came rushing back.

She shoved David back but he didn’t move, glaring down at her. She grabbed the knife from her back pocket, pressed it open and pressed the blade under David’s chin. His eyes shone. “Let go or I will slice your fucking throat.”

“Okay!” She heard Paul say before she was suddenly picked up and thrown over someone’s shoulder. The momentum caused her to drop the knife. At the same time, David released her and she saw Marko standing in front of him, hand on his chest.

“Let me fucking go!” She snarled.

“Hold on, wildcat. Let’s talk.” Paul was running, holding her in place. People were staring as they passed, talking amongst each other.

She reached up as best she could and grabbed his hair before yanking it back.

“Ow! Fuck! Not the hair!”

“Put me the fuck down, Paul!” She tried to kick him but the man was surprisingly maneuverable and seemed to dodge every attempt she made while still running.

Finally, he stopped. He placed her gently down before rubbing the back of his head where she pulled his hair.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, eyes glancing down her body.

“Who? David? I’m fine. He won’t be though if I ever catch up to him again.” She glared at Paul. He had taken her away just when she was going to start getting her point across.

“Dwayne. Did he hurt you?” He seemed abnormally serious from how she knew him.

She stared at him for a moment, the anger starting to fade now that she wasn’t actually looking at her prime target and was faced with this odd sincerity. “No. It was...” she cut herself off. Regardless of this we business that Dwayne spoke about, Paul didn’t need to know that the sex was amazing.

“We didn’t mean to hurt the kid,” he said suddenly. “We couldn’t find you and Dwayne took off to see...family. We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “That doesn’t make it right. I don’t give a shit that you were worried. Clark has a bruise the size of his face on his actual fucking face. You don’t do that.” Darcy looked around, trying to see where he had actually taken her. They were on the beach. Of course they were. She still had sand in her hair from that night with Dwayne. At this rate, she was never getting sand out of her clothes again. “I’m not doing this anymore, Paul. I meant it when I said I’m done.”

“Why?” he asked, pulling something out from one of his pockets. It looked a bit like a cigarette until he actually lit it. “Because you slept with Dwayne? He that bad?”

“He’s not--” she cut herself off again. “No. It was great bu-”

“Then what?” He offered her the joint. She took it automatically. It wouldn’t be the first time and probably not the last if she was honest with herself. She just didn’t like to get too wasted on anything. She had enough problems with her anger already.

She inhaled and held it before passing it back to him. She exhaled slowly as she tried to figure out how to explain it. “I don’t understand this,” she shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Not that hard to understand, babe.” He took another hit and offered it to her. She waved him off. “We want you.”

“Why?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “I’m nothing fucking special, Paul. There’s a bunch of other fucking women on that boardwalk who’d be happy to lay at your feet. I don’t need you acting like you want me to just pull the rug out from under me when you decide you’re done. I’m not here for your shits and giggles.”

“They did a real fucking number on you,” he muttered before taking another toke of the joint. Before she could even ask what he meant, he continued. “We don’t want them. You think any of those bitches would have taken a bat to David’s head?” he grinned at her. “That was sexy.”

“What is it with this we business?” She snapped. “I’m not going to be fucking passed around like meat for whoever’s interested.”

He frowned at her. “That what you think?”

“I don’t know what I think!” She felt like raising her arms to the sky and dropping them in exasperation. “I’ve never...I don’t understand, Paul. What do you want from me?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want to give, however you want to give it.” He leaned down slightly to look her in the eyes. “We want you, Darcy. You just gotta decide if you want us. We can share.” He gave her a wink before taking another hit of the joint. He seemed content to let it lie, not looking at her and pressing for more. It was the first time one of them actually said they wanted her. Dwayne had just stated it like ownership.

“I went to the clinic,” she said suddenly. He looked at her and just waited. “Dwayne and I...we didn’t use any protection. I got tested for STDs.”

He snorted and she scowled at him automatically. He held up his hands fast in defence. “Not laughing at you,” he said. “Just...we don’t have anything.”

“That you know of,” she retorted. “Things show up differently between men and women. It was a stupid thing to not make sure he wore a fucking condom. I’ll be lucky if the tests come back negative.”

“They will,” Paul gave a shrug. “You wanted to be safe. It’s a smart move. We’ll do better from now on. Just don’t fucking take off without telling anyone.”

“You’re awfully fucking confident that I’m going to choose you.”

“Maybe I’m the time traveller,” he grinned at her. He reached out, fingers waggling. “Want to know your future?”

She shoved his hand down, away from her. “God no. All I care about the future is that it’s better than the past.”

“It will be, Darcy, girl. I guaran-fucking-tee it.”

Paul walked her back to the motel. He seemed adamant that she not be left alone and he laughed as she cursed while she tried to get sand out of her shoes. She was going to dump an entire bucket on his head next time he wasn’t looking. He kissed her quickly before darting back as she swiped at him.

“Gotta know what you’re gonna miss,” he teased.

Planned Parenthood | Official Site

taglist: @raith-way @ocfairygodmother @lokitrasho @zeleniafic @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @dickspaghettii @avengers-fixation