#me and my wives don't argue they tell me to shut up and I do

[dont-be-a-gonk]

Riding around with my boyfriend and my girlfriend

[httpsdana]

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬~𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟏𝟏

summary: Barça players and talented footballers. Souls meet and sparks fly. But there's always a twist when it comes to love isn't there?

pairing: Ferran Torres x Gonzalez!Reader

warnings: cursing, slight age gap, angst

previous part -> next part

footballdrama oops looks like y/n has found herself a mystery man 👀. They were seen walking with their hands over each other 👀

comments

user829 I did NOT think she's the type to get a boyfriend for some reason

fan028 NOWAY A BARCA FEMINI PLAYER IS STRAIGHT 😭

user547 I wanna know who that guy is

-> fan893 imagine if it's like a football player too 😭

-> user547 AND ONE OF PEDRI'S TEAMMATES HELP 😭

-> fan893 I've actually seen people ship her with Ferran 💀

-> user547 I've seen it too!! they would actually make a cute couple

Load more comments

y/n dropped her phone on the couch, wondering how someone was able to capture a picture of them without even noticing. She then received a message from Ferran.

Ferran <3

you saw the picture right?

yep. how did they even see us

I'm not sure. I'm sorry for that

don't be. it was worth it

i really hope you enjoyed your night as much as I enjoyed mine

I did. a lot <3

I'm glad you did precosia. have a good night pretty girl

you too Fer

y/n smiled, feeling like an idiot at how wide her smile was. She sighed in satisfaction, getting up to her room and getting ready to sleep.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

y/n was woken up by the sound of harsh knocking on the door. She got up confused, at who might be early in the morning.

She opened the door, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the light from outside.

She saw Fernando and Pedri standing there, Fernando looking forced to come and Pedri there with a wide smile on his face.

"you were on a date?!" he asked, making y/n roll her eyes.

She wanted to act as disinterested, while her heart was almost beating out of her chest.

"yeah so what?" she snapped, making Pedri roll his eyes back

"who is he? do I know him?" he asked, stepping inside with Fernando and closing the door behind them.

"it's none of your business and you don't know him" she sassily replied, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting down on the couch next to them.

"who so rude? was your date that bad?" Pedri teased, making her roll her eyes. Fernando nudged Pedri and told him to shut up.

"wanna go out get breakfast with us? Pedri is paying" Fernando said, making y/n look up at them quickly.

"who said I'm paying?" Pedri argued, making Fernando slap the back of his head

"if Pedri is paying count me in" y/n smiled teasingly at Pedri before going to her room to get ready.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"tough day?" y/n said to the phone

"yep. we've got the second leg of the clasico in 2 days and the coach is not taking it easy" Ferran sighed, making y/n smile.

"it's okay. i hope you guys win this one" she said.

"yeah me too, are you going to be there?" he asked

"definitely. me and few of the girls are going" she replied, making him smile.

"then i better not embarrass myself in front of my girlfriend" he chuckled, making y/n blush deeply even though he can't see.

She's still new to all this girlfriend/boyfriend thing, but she can't deny that she was enjoying it.

"don't worry you won't" she laughed.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The final whistle. 3_2 to Real Madrid. y/n slumped down in her seat, seeing how every player was disappointed, and how some of them were crying. She felt bad for the youngsters, Lamine and Cubarsi, who were in tears.

She saw Ferran on the ground, covering his face with his hands. All she wanted to do was go and hug him.

She saw some of the wives going down to the pitch, so she followed them, telling her teammates that she was gonna see her brother.

She walked down to the pitch, looking for Pedri first, when she saw him she gave him a big hug, telling him everything will be okay.

He didn't seem to want to talk, so he let go of her and started to walk away. She turned to Ferran, who was still sat on the ground with his face covered.

She walked to him, looking around to see that the stadium was almost empty now, and half of the players were out already.

y/n sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder tightly. He looked up, seeing his girlfriend, smiling sadly and hugging her back tightly. They sat their on the grass, their arms around each other in a warm hug.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you." he mumbled, making y/n pull from their hug to look at him

"fer... you didn't and could never disappoint me. it was gonna happen as soon as Lamine's goal was disallowed . It wasn't your fault nor any of the other players fault. you'll do better next year" she spoke softly, while he cried silently.

Ferran then got up, leaving y/n sat on the ground. He helped her up and motioned with his eyes towards Pedri that was looking at them now.

y/n's heart dropped as she saw the look on Pedri's face.

"I'm gonna go talk to him" she mumbled, leaving Ferran standing there, hoping he didn't cause much trouble with his girlfriend.

"hey you good?" she asked Pedri, afraid to hear his response

"why were you with Ferran?" he asked rather rudely, his eyes glaring at her then at Ferran that was now close behind her

"I just wanted to make sure he's okay like I did with you" she murmured, not really knowing how to lie

"why him? are you friends with him or something? or is there something I don't know?" he raised an eyebrow, making y/n look at him immediately

"what? no! there's nothing like that, we're just friends. didn't you introduce me to him so I can have friends?" she asked, realizing he was almost believing her.

"yeah...I guess" he mumbled, before telling her goodbye and walking down to the locker room.

Ferran then appeared behind y/n.

"everything okay?" he asked, worried Pedri night be angry at his twin or something

"yeah yeah. that was close though" y/n said with a sigh.

"you shouldn't have come down to the pitch" he said.

y/n looked at him, wondering if he meant he didn't want her there to comfort him

"oh sorry. i just wanted to make sure you're okay" she mumbled, feeling like she was bothering him with her presence.

Ferran sensed her shift in mood, and realized he should've chosen his words differently.

"wait i didn't mean that I didn't want you there I meant that Pedri could've known or something. I'm glad you're here y/n" he said, a small smile on his face.

She smiled back at him, mentally slapping herself for doubting his intentions.

"you go to the lockers. come to mine after you finish everything. I'll make you some food to relax" she said. He smiles gratefully, hugging her before leaving down the tunnel

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"someone was down on the pitch and filmed us. the video has gone viral now" Ferran sighed.

y/n shrugged, she didn't care what the media thinks or sees if Pedri knows that they're friends. The fans ship everyone together so as long as Pedri doesn't know, it doesn't matter.

"it doesn't matter as long as Pedri doesn't suspect a thing...which he kinda did today" she mumbled.

"sneaking out is fun and stuff...but I want to be able to show you off y/n, why can't we just tell Pedri about us and end all of this?" he asked, sitting down on the countertop as y/n was preparing their dinner

"you don't get it Ferran. it's not that easy" she sighed, avoiding looking at him.

Ferran got up and stood behind y/n, putting his arms around her waist and laying his head on her shoulder. He pressed a few kisses on her cheek.

"why not baby?" he whispered

baby. it was his first time calling her that, and she felt like she belonged to him by just hearing that.

"he wouldn't take it nicely" she whispered back, trying to focus on the food she was making instead of his fingertips that were dancing on her waist under her shirt.

"so what? he'll be upset for a while and then he'll get over it" Ferran said again. y/n dropped the knife in her hand and turned to look at Ferran.

His hands stayed on her waist, while he looked down at her, pulling her closer to his body.

"you don't know Pedri as much as I do. he can stop talking to both of us forever if he didn't like it. And I really don't want that for both of us" she said, putting her hands on his chest to steady herself.

"what if he didn't mind it? there's no harm in asking" he said.

y/n exhaled deeply, removing his hands from her waist and turning back her focus to the food she was preparing.

Ferran noticed that she was upset, and he didn't want that. He pressed a kiss on her head and wrapped his arms around her shoulder, whispering an apology in her ear.

"it's fine just...please stop asking about it before we figure a way out of this" she mumbled, hearing him hum in response

[xxcatzladyxx]

Tengen Uzui x Reader | The Sound Pillar

Hello everyone! ^^

Here is the third oneshot. This time with the god of flashiness, Tengen Uzui.

I would like to thank you again for all the likes. I never thought that Giyu would get more likes than Kyojuro. Do not misunderstand. Giyu was my favorite first and foremost. Now it's Kyojuro/Tengen.

I hope you enjoy reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You want me to be what?"

"You'll be my fourth wife!"

"But you have a bird!", you make the appropriate gesture to it. "You already have three wives. Isn't that enough for you?"

You two argue so loudly that by now every other pillar has interrupted its activity and is watching the two of you. But you do not let yourselves be disturbed.

"Yes, I have a bird, a crow to be exact!"

"Very funny, Tengen! Has the worthy gentleman hung up his job as a demon hunter and become a comedian? Or did you just have a clown for breakfast? I have a crow and so does every other pillar here. The only difference is that none of them wear such stupid headgear."

The loud laugh from the Pillar of Flame, Rengoku, rings out.

"You see, even Kyōjurō has to laugh at your comedy already."

"He's more likely to laugh at you than at me, my dear!" grinned the Pillar of Sound to himself.

"Don't call me your love!" you cross your arms in front of your chest and turn away from Tengen.

You snort once, hard, annoyed. Tengen rips your nerves to the core.

"So, what now, my dear? You won't meet a flamboyant man like me a second time.", he emphasized the word 'my love' extra hard to annoy you.

You roll your eyes. You don't understand how you can be so sure of yourself. Healthy self-confidence is good, but you can also overdo it. Just like Tengen.

"Are you deaf? No, I'm not going to be your wife! I won't today! I won't tomorrow! Not in a week let alone a month either! Never! Never in my life! Just get it out of your head!"

You are slowly but surely at the end of your rope. If you continue to argue with him, you won't have a voice tomorrow. You're more than sure of that. You would put your hand in Rengoku's fire. He is still laughing loudly about your quarrel.

Actually you get along with him brilliantly. But right now, you're so pissed off at Tengen's stubbornness that you'd love to shut Rengoku up without batting an eye if he didn't stop his stupid laugh right now.

"Then in one year, my dear!" grinned Tengen victoriously.

Confused, you turn your head in his direction.

"Huh?" you quip wittily.

"You said not today, not tomorrow, not in a week and not in a month, however you never mentioned a year. So, my dear!"

"I know what I said. Are you slow on the uptake? I said never! That goes for all time!"

You want to throw more at him, however, you know that would just be a pure and pointless waste of time. You wave him off and go your way. You need some peace and quiet and decide to go for a walk.

After a while you arrive at a flower meadow. You stop and enjoy the view. Here grow your favorite flowers, lilies. White lilies.

You pick one and turn it back and forth in your hand. White. Snow white. Like the hair from the pillar of sound. Dumbfounded, you stare at the lily. Why does it come to your mind, though you only push it away from you? Does it seem to please you against your own will? You just don't want to see it? And you tell yourself the opposite?

Let's stick to the truth. He's good-looking. He's quite tall. He's got great muscles. His eyes are captivating. And his deep voice. The only thing that bothers you about him is his stupid attitude. Who does he think he is? A god? For a shiny, flamboyant god? God of flashiness? God of festivals?

"So you like, lilies? Very interesting. I'll have to make a note of that."

You give a low shriek and in shock, the flower falls out of your hand and onto the dirty ground. With a scowl, you turn to the troublemaker.

"What do you want here?"

"I have to look after my future wife, don't I?"

"Tengen, how many times do I have to tell you...!...Oh, forget it."

He picks up the flower again and carefully puts it in your hair without breaking eye contact with you. You blush slightly on your cheeks.

"I will bring you a bouquet of white lilies every day until your house is filled with them for good."

"Tengen, no!" you interrupt him. "You must be a great man, or husband, whatever. Your wives may be lucky to have married you, too. But I can't imagine sharing a husband with other women."

"So that means if I wasn't married, you would become my wife?"

"Tengen, don't do anything stupid!"

You can already see the scene before you of the demon slayer breaking up with his wives just so you'll marry him.

"Yes or no?" he ends your head spin.

"Maybe, Tengen, maybe."

You make your way home, leaving him standing there. He doesn't mind, though. Not in the least. He has a plan and he's faster than you anyway. He'll give you a nice homecoming you'll never forget. And with a certain piece of jewelry piece.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked it! I am open for any requests. No spoilers, but spoilers! Next time it will be Kyojuro with a Lime/Lemon. I'm still not sure exactly what it is.

See you next time!

Your Wolfi <3

[papirouge]

Again you admit women are inferior physically and spiritually (as was part of that verse you chose to ignore) Same for your statement that Adam being first is not women being inferior, when you ignore the part in the verse that says women must be submissive to and may not have authority over men because Adam was formed first. As to a lifetime of submission being easier because of the off chance that a man will be obligated to die for her? You got me there. I have no notes.

And again you ignore the fact that I'm asking you what verse is telling that women are "INFERIOR to men" and you still didn't manage to pull out any - as expected, because it doesn't exist lmao. Words do matter. I'm not talking about "submissiveness", being "first" or "having to be quiet". Show me where the word "women are INFERIOR to men" is in the Bible. I'm still waiting.

That being said, yes women are physically inferior to men, it's not rocket science and you don't need to be Christian to acknowledge this. That's why female only space need to be protected. Die mad about it. Women being weaker is one of the reason women are so vulnerable to male violence, get overpowered and in

"Adam being first is not women being inferior" ...yeah because Adam got created FIRST, genius. I'm my family last child, so my elder sister came "first". It doesn't make me "inferior" to her. Please stop acting dumb.

"must be submissive to and may not have authority over"

Now I know you have no idea what you're talking about because you're literally mixing 2 prescriptions that don't even have anything to do with Adam lmao The "submissiveness" refers to Ephesians 5:22 wives & husband relationship, and Timothy 2:12 "women not having authority to men" is in the context of "instruction" (the verse just before - v11). And where do Christian women do get "instruction"??? AT THE CHURCH. You're welcome.

So like I already said, both of those verses are CONTEXTUAL (married women / women in the church assembly) and don't concern ALL women : not every woman is married nor is quarantined inside the church assembly. So please tell me what are celibate Christian women inferior too, again? funny how you're avoiding this question. Because if you did you'd realize this "inferior" thing doesn't actual work because you're hyperfocusing on specific context to brush an opinion on the whole female gender. Flop. "a lifetime of submission" what are celibate Christian women not attending church submitted to, anon? quickly. And admitting that marriage is bondage, that's precisely why Paul told us it was better to stay off alone. But noooo Christianism wants women to be under male authority, still. Dumb.

And men being willing to die for their wife isn't a "one off chance", the actual verse I did refer to (bc you're obviously too dumb to actually get the memo yet stil wanna argue abt Christianism) is "Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her" (Ephesians 5:25); so it's not just "taking a chance of dying" but loving her so much to the point of willing to love and die for her" => a self-sacrificing life at the service of their wife. Look at the life of Jesus and you'll notice he did many things for the Church (= the wife) beside just dying once on the cross.

If you had an ounce of intellectual honest, you'd admit the sacrifice is MUTUAL but no, you still wanna act like the Bible gave a heavier burden for the wife somehow...

It's been a veeery long time I discussed with someone being so loud and so wrong.

If you have no notes then shut up. I'm embarrassed for you to act so smartass when you've only managed to show how dumb & uneducated you are. I woudn't been surprised you're a radfem. The lots of you, even when being proven wrong love to keep acting sassy. Get bent.

[cryticalbee]

My uncle is becoming incorrigible. He has 3 sons and the oldest breaks my heart. He's only 9yo and yet he looks like he's a ball of anxiety not being able or not knowing how to communicate his feelings.

Most recent example was during a his baseball game he was wearing 2 tshirts on a hot day and finally admitted he wanted to take his undershirt off but didn't want anyone to see. So naturally, me, my aunt and his aunt huddle around him to cover him up while he changes. But then my asshole of an uncle comes over and tells him that "no one cares" and that he's a man so he can take off his shirt. To which his sister just told him to shut up and if the kid says he feels uncomfortable with changing in front of people than he's fucking uncomfortable! So he starts to ramble on how it's stupid to coddle children when they cry by saying "I understand you're upset, and we'll talk about it when you're more calm". & said "sure if you're a girl I'll let you cry."

And I feel like I can't say shit because of course it looks bad to educate a parent when you don't have kids of your own. But also parents have this sense of ownership of their kids because they produced them- so they are the ones that set the rules no matter how toxic it looks to outsiders.

It's so fucking frustrating.

Then he brings up the stupid argument about Jonah Hill the other day saying he was in the right and that women shouldn't be flaunting their hot bodies on the internet especially when they are wives. Fucking Andrew Tate shit. And I'm glad his sister and sister-in-law argued against him because nothing I said he acknowledged.

I just feel so icky around him now even though I love my aunt and my baby cousins- I do hope his influence doesn't rub off on them.

[daenysx]

hello! this is based on a request from @thehumanistsdiary. thank you for being so sweet, i hope you like this. requests are open!!

my masterlist

worried

aemond targaryen reacting his wife overwork herself with a sword.

you love being married to someone like aemond targaryen, he always supports you to do whatever you want. if it were someone else, they wouldn't possibly want their wives to train with sword, but aemond loves seeing you with a sword, your hair full of braids. you mostly use sword training as a way of relieving stress. life at court is not easy, almost every day you have someone who makes you angry, mostly because of stupid comments about your life or your husband.

today, you need to spend your time having tea with the ladies at court. it would not be your first choice, but as the wife of the prince you should attend to these gatherings. at first everything was normal with kind words and sweet smiles, but then the moment you leave the table you hear one of the ladies talk about your husband. it is more like a loud whisper actually, only meant for her best friend who sits next to her. she says how handsome, wise, and kind prince aemond is, if only he had both eyes she would definitely try to convince her father to make arrangement for her to marry him. you get frustrated, all you desire is to go back and shut her up, make some snarky comment and completely stop her from ever mentioning your husband's name. however, you cannot do this, it will only draw attention and you shouldn't be cross with important people which are related to these ladies. aemond tries to unite people with all those council meetings, you don't want to endanger your husband's plans.

you are close to door, you decide to leave. in your chambers you quickly change your clothes to your usual training outfit, your hair is already braided. you leave your chambers with quick steps for your sword training. it's only you this time, you are simply practicing and normally this wouldn't feel like a difficult thing to do, but you are really angry, you spend more effort and breath. your legs are shaking from moving, you still keep going. you spend minutes with sword, only trying to release all your anger. you don't even realize your husband who is approaching to you with worried eyes. aemond says your name but you don't hear him, you continue your movements. he comes to you and makes you throw your sword away with a skillful movement. you gasp, finally realizing what you're doing, aemond is there to hold you. his arms are around you, try to help your balance because you're literally shaking.

"is there any reason you overwork yourself like this, my love?" you look at him with wide eyes.

"of course there is, my prince. i was only trying to stop myself from doing something stupid."

"stupid? what happened, did someone say something?"

"well, just a lady actually. i do not wish to talk about it with you."

"if there is something you do not wish to tell me, i will not insist. however, i cannot let you hurt yourself just because you get angry with some woman."

"you literally do it all the time, my prince, get angry with someone and spend hours with a sword."

"not the same thing, you are still shaking, i will not see my wife hurt herself with a dangerous weapon. you can cut yourself being so careless."

you stop arguing with him, you know he's right. you step away from aemond, and hug him again, this time your arms around his neck, his hands on your waist, bring his lips to your hair. he helps you sit on the ground with him, doesn't care about anything, he only wants you to breath steadily and stop shaking. he pulls you to his lap, you try to calm down and look at him. that lady was right only with the first part of her sentence; aemond is extremely charming, wise and brave. you feel your jealousy in your veins, you don't want any other woman to feel like you about him. still, you cannot prevent this. you hold him, bury your nose to his neck.

"you know, there are ladies at court who thinks you're handsome and kind." your voice sounds like sad little girl who doesn't want to share him.

"well, i might appreciate compliments, but there is only one lady in this court for me. i just wish her to think of me as handsome and kind. a princess actually. a princess who tries to use her sword the moment she hears a comment about her husband. i might admit though, this is quite impressive."

you sit on his lap in a more comfortable position, kissing his lips with all those passion and tiredness. he kisses you back holding your face between his hands.

"you like me being jealous of you, husband?"

"i like you calling me husband quite more, to be honest."

"it was hard not to say anything in return, i'm sorry if i worried you."

"it's fine my love, i would be more upset if you accidentally hurt yourself."

you have your arms around his neck once more, your fingers in his hair. you feel extremely tired now but the shaking is gone. your husband helps you stand up, holds your hand and leads you to your shared chambers.

"now, it would please me to help you release this tension of yours with more effective ways, my sweet wife."

[cowgurrrl]

If I Ever Were to Lose You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT TLOU2 SPOILED FOR YOU (also I was going to wait to post this but I like it so it’s getting posted 🥸)

Summary: “Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.” - Vladimir Nabokov [1.1k]

Warnings: spoilers for tlou2 that’s all I’m gonna say, all the feminine rage, poor Tommy

The day is going by slower and slower as the patrolmen search for them. You knew Tommy and Joel were on patrol together, but they were supposed to be back by now. Ellie, Dina, and Jesse formed the groups before you could even wake up. You trusted him to take those late night/early morning shifts, you had no reason not to, but now the pit of anxiety is solid in your stomach. You would probably be throwing up if you had anything in your stomach. Maria tries to get you to eat, but you can't. You can't do anything until you know Joel and Ellie are safe.

Before the Outbreak, you heard stories of wives waiting for their husbands to come back from war. You listened to them recount nights of dread and fear. You sympathized with them when they told you the prayers they whispered despite never believing in God. They just needed to beg for their lives. They needed someone to hear them. And it still wasn't enough to bring their husbands back alive. You never thought you'd be like those wives who said prayers into non-believing hands, but here you are.

He told you not to go. He told you he had it handled. He told you it was fine, and you believed him. You've trusted Joel with your life before but always struggled with trusting him with his own. He could be reckless and get tunnel vision, especially when protecting his family. You've argued about it more than enough times. You thought he knew to keep his mouth shut and his head down, so he came home alive. You thought he knew the rules. You thought he could handle himself.

You hear the footsteps coming up the porch before you see the people. Maria calls after you as you rush out the front door to see Ellie standing there, blood dried to her face and hoodie. You don't think twice before wrapping her in your arms and crying with relief. She barely returns your hug, her weak arms shaking around you. "Who did this?" You ask when you pull away, putting your hands on her face. Ellie's not all there, that much, you can tell. She has the same faraway look in her eyes that she got after she killed David. She can't even look at you.

Tommy clears his throat behind her, and that's the first time you see the men standing on your porch. Tommy's bloody and bruised too, but he's alive. The rest of the patrolmen stare at their snow-covered boots, dried tears staining some of their faces. You search the faces three times and feel your body tremble when you can't find Joel.

"Tommy," you say, your voice breaking on the second half of his name. "Where is Joel?" Ellie flinches at your question and flees from your arms, retreating into the house. Bombs could've been falling from the sky, and it wouldn't have made you look away. Tommy says your name softly and tries to put his arms around you, but you push him away. "Somebody, please tell me where my fucking husband is!"

Two patrolmen step to the side to reveal the body bag they had been carrying. Your knees buckle under you. Tommy holds you up and says something in your ear. You think you hear Sarah's name but can't understand him over the ringing in your ears. You can't see anything except the black body bag in the snow. "Let me see," You say. The patrolmen look to Tommy like it's his decision, and you lose a piece of your sanity. "Let me see him!" You yell. Slowly and hesitantly, they unzip the bag and reveal Joel or what's left of him. You think they expected you to flinch or to run away at the sight of his body, but you don't. You drop into the snow next to him and stare at him. You reach for his hand and hold it tightly in yours, like the warmth from your body will be enough to breathe life back into his.

"What happened, baby?" You ask him, kissing his cold hand. The glint of his gold wedding band catches your eye, and you feel like you could shatter into a million different pieces. It's dented and stained with blood, but he's wearing it. He never wore his ring on patrol, but he wore it any other chance he got. He must've fallen asleep with it on and never taken it off this morning. He died wearing the ring you put on his finger, the one you used to promise you would love, respect, and honor him until he died. Until this moment. Except, your love doesn't fade looking at him even now. You squeeze his hand and sniff as tears fall into the snow next to him. "You said it was fine. You told me. You fucking told me you'd be home for dinner," you sob. You faintly register the patrolmen around you kneeling, but you can't look at them. You can only look at Joel. "I would've gone with you, you stubborn bastard, and we would've come home. We're a team. I should've been there. I should've… oh, God."

Your head drops to rest on his chest, and you scream so loud that the mountains seem to shake with the force. You don't care who hears. You want the earth to rumble with the depth of your grief. You want time to stop for everyone else the way it just stopped for you. Joel died, and you weren't there. Joel died, and you didn't get to say goodbye. Joel died, and there was no way to protect him after you promised him you would always have his back. You want more time. You deserve more time. He deserves more time.

You cry for a long time. Nobody tries to pull you away from Joel or soothe you. They just bear witness as darkness tingles at the base of your spine until your tears stop and you pick your head up. You kiss his hand one more time before laying it back down and holding your palm to the place where that big, soft heart used to beat.

"Who did this?" You ask. The patrolmen don't move or speak until you hear familiar footsteps approaching you.

"It was a kid. She couldn't have been much older than Ellie." Tommy says, and that makes you wince. Of course, Joel would soften for a young girl like Ellie. Of course, he would let his guard down around her. Of course, that would be his downfall.

"Where did she go?"

"She's a kid."

"That's not what I fucking asked you, Tommy," you stand and turn to face him. His Adam's apple bobs when he sees the deadly look in your eyes. "You tell me which way she went so I can rip her eyes out of her skull and then come back and bury my husband."

"I…It was a group. You can't take them on by yourself." One of the patrolmen speaks up, and your jaw clenches.

"If you make me repeat myself one more fucking time, we’re gonna need more body bags,” you snap. “Where. Did. She. Go.”

⛳️

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Tag list (that I forgot I started): @evyiione @nyotamalfoy

[internetgremlin-writes]

Flat Spin [Chapter Four]

Summary/Prompt: Flat Spin

1. A spin in which an aircraft descends in tight circles whilst remaining almost horizontal

2. A state of agitation or panic [informal]

As the only female driver on the grid, you’re fighting a constant need to prove yourself, however sometimes the line between accepting help and hand-outs is more blurred than you think

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Female Reader

Word Count: 9,200 (don't ask it didn't split up any other way and all of it felt too important to miss out)

Warnings: Miami Madness part 2: crash injuries & silly drunk boys, say it with me kids: INSPIRATION not ACCURACY

messy hair carlos = my entire body shuts down

Previous Chapters: One || Two || Three

Given the chaos of the introduction to Miami, you thought Thursday might have been a bit quieter.

You were, inevitably, wrong.

You had breakfast with Katie and a small entourage of Aston Martin staff who were trying to make your life as easy as possible, much against your will.  You spent most of the meal staring over Katie's shoulder, where you could see the back of a mop of jet black hair and strong shoulders with the number 55 splayed in yellow between them.  You hated how even the back of him made your stomach clench these days.  You could tell by the animated movements he was deep in conversation with his own team, watching as he spoke with his hands to describe something.  You wondered what he was talking about.  Probably tyres if you knew Carlos at all, it was always about the tyres with him. 

“Y/N!”  Katie snapping her fingers in front of you brought your attention back to your own table.  “Are you even listening to me?”  You looked down at your yoghurt, wondering shortly if you could get away with pretending. 

“No,”  you admitted with a sheepish smile.  She sighed and rolled her eyes.  

“I was telling you where you need to be today, if you actually wanted to know,” 

“Not really,”  you grinned at her and she tutted at you behind her iPad, but you could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  You propped your elbows up on the table and battered your eyelashes sweetly at her.  “Okay hit me, who do I have to make happy today?”

You wondered if the PR people get a sick kick of satisfaction out of jamming their driver's days full of mindless crap just to watch their faces fall as their own ideas of how their day might go fly out of the window.  That was how it felt anyway, as you were briefed that not only would you attend your seat fitting, practice session meeting and the fan signing sessions as expected, but you were to spend any free minute in the Aston Martin hospitality watching and supporting the lower level races and entertainment being hosted on the pit lane.  The only saving grace, you figured, was that Sebastian would be there with you. 

You were allowed a swim after breakfast, followed by a quick stretch-out session before you were herded out into the paddock to begin duties.  Surprisingly, the day slipped by quite pleasantly.  The fan meet and greet was so busy it took hours to get through everyone, but the fans were insane which made it worth it for you.  You’d never been given so many gifts, had so many kind words and some slightly bizarre requests.  After the third man asked you to sign his bare chest you decided to place a blanket rule on body signing.

You also found yourself enjoying the lower races much more than you thought you would.  Lounging in a deckchair on your fourth non-alcoholic beer watching the chaos of the pit lane from above was actually quite nice.  Not being the one in the middle of it all, stressing about stop times and tyre strategy and arguing on the radio, instead just enjoying the thrill of motorsport as you had when you were a child.  It was safe to say you’d missed it.  You never regretted becoming a driver, but it made you think of the driver’s wives and girlfriends and part of you was a little envious of the glamour of it all, of the kind of life where your main concern would be picking your outfit for the day.  You and Seb were also running a halfhearted betting pool on the F2, and lazily arguing about the most effective lines into a couple of the corners.  There were a handful of sponsors around, but not enough to be much of a bother and you were pretty sure at one point when you looked over at Seb he was napping behind his sunglasses. 

Much to your honour,  you’d been asked to present the awards for the W-Series race, and for once you found yourself not bitterly hating the media duties and public appearances that came with being a professional athlete.  The W-Series race had been a spectacular display of driving and there was no doubt that you were excited to hopefully be sharing the F1 grid with more women in the coming years.  You told Jamie Chadwick you looked forward to racing her as you handed her the first-place trophy, and the young woman looked like Christmas came early as she caught you with a firm spray of champagne.  A photo was taken of the entire female grid, with you in the centre afterwards.  You saw it later, all of you with rosy cheeks and arms flung around each other like old friends and immediately bought a framed copy. 

You’d heard only briefly from Carlos throughout the day.  He was doing a filmed exposé out on one of the fancy golf courses with Lando for the majority of the day.  He’d texted you a picture of a very elaborate-looking mocktail, followed by a terrible selfie of him and Lando captioned ‘muppets’.  You told him about the W-Series to which he reacted with a thumbs up.  By the time you’d had your police escort back to the hotel complex, it was a little past 7 pm. 

You: Fancy dinner?  Just got back to the hotel 

You didn’t think too much about sending the text.  You knew it was a long shot given the schedules of the day, but you were itching to catch up properly with Carlos and if it meant you could avoid another dinner going over the fine details of your life with Katie, well, who were you to complain.  By the time you’d had a shower and changed into a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting top to try and keep the humidity away, you had three texts. 

Carlos Sainz: Still in meetings, they delivered us pizza. 

Carlos Sainz: I am sorry, Cariño.  You can take me to the date after I win on Sunday.

His emoji use really was horrible, you thought; a chilli, a flexing arm and a winking face with its tongue out.  It still made your insides warm.

Track Dad: Come to dinner with me, I’m hiding from Antti.

That was Seb, who’d earnt the nickname last year when he spent most of his time in the paddock chasing yourself and Mick Schumacher around like a parent with toddlers that kept running off.  The media loved the relationship the three of you had kindled, with Seb very much mentoring the pair of you.  And as for you and Mick, well you just adored him.  You’d be surprised if anyone could even dislike the young German, he was nothing but nice, probably one of the sweetest men you’d ever met.  He was endlessly kind and surprisingly humble to the point of being shy despite his heritage.

You sent Carlos several snoozing emojis in response and wished him luck with the meetings (but not the race) and responded to Seb that you’d meet him in the lobby in five minutes.  To no one’s surprise, when you stepped out of the elevator into the air-conditioned hotel lobby, Seb was waiting for you in deep conversation with Mick.  You greeted them readily, pulling Mick into a big hug as you’d not seen him around in a while. 

The three of you had a wonderful dinner in the hotel, even if your menu had clearly been sent forward from your nutritionist, containing a thrilling array of steamed fish and steamed veg and plain carbohydrates.  It was always easy to be yourself around the three of them, and it made you laugh how when Mick was around Seb changed from the equally troublesome teammate he was with you to a fond parent.  You didn’t mind too much, because Mick was equally fun to bounce off and Seb inevitably would end up in the chaos in some way or another.  You talked mostly about the upcoming race, trying to find out how best to approach a track you’d never driven before and what the weather meant for tyre strategy and how bad the first turn would be.  

You fell asleep easily that night, feeling strangely satisfied and excited to get the car out for practice.

The Friday practise sessions were of little note.  You got through FP1 relatively smoothly, only reporting back that your car felt a little slippy on the rear and you had to correct quite a few near-spins.  It was hard to set a fast lap with hard tyres and the cluster of yellow flags you had to work your way around, but you still came out with a decent P6 and a bunch of notes you spent your lunch break poring over.  FP2 started much better, and already you felt like the small adjustments your engineer had done were giving you a much sturdier and quicker drive.  Working onto the medium and soft tyres was also helping, and you were just starting to enjoy the track and work up to putting some good times on the board when you drove past a flashing yellow flag. 

“Virtual safety car?”  You asked down the radio. 

“Yep, confirmed,”  you sighed, with a roll of your eyes and took the time at a cruising speed to take a sip of your drink. 

“What happened?  Is there debris on track?”  What you really meant was who happened, but it wasn’t normal for drivers to ask that. 

“Negative, no debris on track.  Sainz into the wall at Turn 14,” 

Fuck.

You knew this was going to happen.  It was the nature of the sport that no driver was ever safe or cushioned from accidents.  World champions, rookies and everyone in-between crashes out or spins or has technical problems.  Hell, just last week you’d proved that.  But you really hadn’t expected to hear his name like that so soon.  You weren’t ready for the way your stomach dropped and your chest squeezed and the only thing you cared about was if he was okay or not.  At least last time you’d been so out of it you’d barely been aware of your own injuries let alone someone else’s.  This time all you could think about was what kind of mess he was in. 

As you approached the third sector of the track you slowed to a virtual crawl until the stricken Ferrari was visible.  It was sat flush against the concrete barrier deep in a gravel trap, but Carlos was out and you saw a flash of his red race suit as he hopped the fence, providing only a small flood of relief to know he walked away.  You were distracted for the rest of FP2, even so, you managed to pull a P5 and gain 1.3 seconds on your FP1 time.  

Your team seemed pretty pleased with you, and you managed to ignore their comments about Sainz’s sudden trend in finding gravel.  It was taking everything you had not to ask everyone you saw if they’d heard anything and if he was okay.  Instead, you sat through your debrief meeting, desperately refusing to acknowledge the way Seb was watching you quizzically as you fidgeted and stared at the clock behind Mike and almost bolted out of the door the second it was over.  You had your head down in your phone before you’d even turned into the corridor.  Carlos had already updated to his Instagram that he was fine and would be competing in the rest of the weekend as normal, and you were halfway through drafting a text to him when you walked right into someone. 

“Sorry,”  you mumbled, barely looking up from your phone as you hit the send button. 

“Hey, what’s the rush?”  It was Seb, who’d steadied you and stepped back, his expression unreadable. 

“Nothing,”

“You didn’t seem all there at debrief.  Is everything okay?”  As much as you loved Seb, his attention to detail was sometimes a nightmare. 

“Yeah I’m fine, I was just…”  You trailed off, unsure of what you were just doing. 

“I was on my way to get a coffee, come with me,”  one thing you loved about your teammate and mentor was he never asked you anything.  His invites were more statements, and you liked that.  It made you feel wanted and included and especially in your rookie year it was exactly what you’d needed to help you settle on the grid.  It didn’t take long for the pair of you to have fallen into step and locate the nearest coffee machine in the building.  You were nursing a steaming americano and quietly observing the emptying paddock when Seb started again. 

“Forming close, ah, relationships, with fellow drivers is tricky.  You spend so much time together it feels inevitable, but also they are your competitors.  It’s hard to find the balance, how much time do these people deserve of you?  How much of yourself?  How much of your care?”  He was staring into the distance, a look on his face that made you wonder if he was thinking about someone in particular as he spoke.  “When it takes over your mind, when you can’t concentrate because of them, it can be dangerous.  And bad for your career,”  he chuckled dryly to himself.  “You see it more often than you think.  It’s why a lot of us have to change teams,” 

“What do you-” 

“I think it is very good you are branching out, making other friends.  I’m too old to be keeping you company so much, and Carlos is a good man.  I wanted to be the one to tell you, so you know it’s not trouble, but to be mindful.  Be mindful of how much you think of them when you’re on the track.  No matter what’s happening elsewhere,”  

“Oh,”  Seb offered you a warm smile as he sipped his drink.  You could feel the heat rising into your face.  “Well I’m not - he’s not my- it’s not like that,”

“Don’t panic so much, Y/N, consider it a general warning about getting close to anyone.  I have to be careful myself with you and Mick, and of course back when…”  he tailed off and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of Mick’s father and Seb’s initial mentor.  The news of Micheal’s accident had been devastating to all motorsport fans - but for Seb, who was as close to him as family - you didn’t want to think about how much it had hurt him.  Your phone pinged in your pocket and on instinct you checked it, leaving Seb lost in his memory a little longer. 

It was Carlos, assuring you he was fine, but nonetheless, his room number was supplied. 

“Go see him,”  Seb’s words brought you back to the present as you finished the dregs of your coffee.  He had a wry smile that was a lot more Seb.  You nudged his shoulder affectionately and thanked him for the coffee and chat, before turning to leave him on the balcony.

“Hey, Y/N,”  he caught you, making you turn to look over your shoulder for a moment.  “Not that you need it, but I approve of him very much,”  he winked at you, the shit.  In the sinking sunlight, his blue eyes were twinkling playfully.  You hoped you weren’t blushing too much as you nodded awkwardly at the floor and hurried out. 

There was a Seven-Eleven on the way back to the hotel.  You stopped and bought a slice of rich-looking chocolate cake from the fridge section. 

Carlos was quick to open the door for you, his face lighting up when he realised it was you who was knocking.  You noticed he was a little slow as he made his way back over to the bed with a stilted gait. 

“I brought cake,”  you held up the plastic case in your hand as if it wasn’t obvious.  You felt a little small and stupid, but Carlos was watching you as if you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. 

“Why?”  You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your face was heating up as you looked at your shoes. 

“My mum used to - if I got in an accident - she used to get us chocolate cake on the way home,”  Carlos nodded slowly.  

“Thank you,”  you leant down to place the cake in his minifridge and gently toe your shoes off, padding over to the chair opposite his bed and dropping into it. 

“I suppose it means that bad days can end nicely or something,”  his expression changed at your throwaway comment, an eyebrow creeping up into his hairline and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that made you feel like a deer in headlights, frozen under his gaze. 

“It’s ending very nicely,”  before you could open your mouth to question him, he was gesturing for you to come closer, patting the space beside him on the bed.  You were all too happy to oblige, your skin bristling pleasantly whenever his arm brushed against yours. 

Carlos had been watching a game of football, and you leant quietly against his shoulder as he explained the rules to you.  If you were being entirely honest, you couldn’t have given less of a shit about football if you tried, but it was clearly something that Carlos was passionate about and you would have sat there and listened to him recite Pythagoras’ Theorem as if it was the only thing you could ever care about.

It felt strange, but the nice kind of strange, to be back in a plain hotel room together, sitting a little too close on a king-sized bed.  Except this time you were trying to ignore the way your skin was thrumming with electricity and the way you couldn’t stop thinking about the last time you saw him when he’d taken you on the most beautiful date you’d ever been on and then kissed you.  You wondered if he wanted to kiss you again.  It felt like dates when you were 15.  When you were so enthralled by the new world that was physical touch that you spent most minutes with a boy wondering if - or when - the next moment would come where your fingers brushed against each other or his arm found its awkward place on your hips or his nose bumped yours as you kissed, badly. 

Carlos must have noticed you drift off because he was poking you gently, a playful smile tugging at his features. 

“Am I really so boring to you?” 

“What?”

“You weren’t listening!” 

“I was!”

“No, you didn’t!”  He was pouting, somehow managing to look both ridiculous and adorable at the same time.  “You came all this way to make me feel better and then you didn’t even listen to me,”  you couldn’t help but snort, partly because Carlos was still poking softly at your sides in a way that was starting to tickle.

“All the way from down the corridor, sure,”  you rolled your eyes playfully and Carlos gasped with mock offence, matching your energy as his fingers dug into your side, making you squeal as he began to tickle you in earnest.  You tried to shimmy away, but he was quick - an arm snaking around your waist and holding you firm against him as he made you squirm.  You couldn’t control the high-pitched giggles he was pulling from you.  You hadn’t noticed he’d rolled back, dragging you with him so you were balanced in his lap until your stomach was sore and you were begging for him to stop and let you breathe. 

The grin on Carlos’ face faded quickly when he realised the position he’d put you in.  You didn’t miss the way his tongue slipped out to moisten his lips.  One of his hands slipped down from your ribs to your hip, the other reaching up to softly brush a strand of hair that had worked its way loose in the struggle behind your ear.  You tried to ignore the way your face was heating up and his touch sent a trail of goosebumps raising along your arm.  You placed a tentative hand on his chest, stabilising yourself and searching for boundaries all at once. 

Carlos lunged for you.  He cradled the back of your head and pulled you down to meet him at the same time as he sat himself up, catching you in a kiss that couldn’t have been more different to the last one.  It felt like something was burning between you, something that made you hungry, desperate for him.  The smell of cologne and burnt rubber fogged your mind.  He was so warm, pulling you close so as much of your body was pressed against his as possible.  He made a small noise against your mouth and you felt any resolve you had melt away, your body becoming soft and malleable in his hands. 

His arm found its way around your waist again and you allowed yourself a second to revel in the security of him as you broke away from his lips to press experimental kisses along his jaw bone.  Carlos shuddered against you and in one smooth motion rolled you sideways onto your back, settling himself between your legs. 

Or at least that had been the plan.  He leant down to reconnect your lips and winced, pulling back.  You reacted immediately, trying to push down the bolt of insecurity that shot through you as you scrabbled up so you could sit opposite him.  Carlos groaned and fell back into the position he had been in, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

“Are you okay?”  You hoped you didn’t sound as panicked as you felt.  His eyes were closed and his breathing a little too shallow.

“Yes, just-”  he winced again  “Not steady enough.  I was told to be resting,”  

“Sorry-”  you felt small, and suddenly the room was too hot and too cold at once and all you could think about was finding an excuse to leave rather than face him.  But Carlos was shaking his head before you could get any further. 

“No, Cariño, not your fault.  I wanted to,”  his thumb was rubbing smooth circles against your hip bone.  “God, I want to,”  there was something strained in his voice.  Your chest blossomed with warmth at his admission that his desire matched your own, and it gave you the confidence to push it down.  It wasn’t the right time, for either of you.  Not before qualifying, not with injuries.

“How bad were you hurt?”  You murmured, your eyes glued to the spot on his neck he kept touching.  He shrugged, but Carlos had never been very good at hiding his facial expressions and you knew he was in pain, and probably a little embarrassed.  

“My neck - we don’t know how bad yet.  There were too many Gs and the concrete wall was bad, I don’t know why it wasn’t Tecpro.  And the hip - it’s a contusion but okay,”  you made a face as he spoke.  You’d had a hip contusion before and you knew Carlos was downplaying the pain.  

“Where?”  the word was barely a whisper from you, but Carlos understood and he lifted the left side of his t-shirt up. 

Arching in a half-moon was a streak of purple that fanned out at the edges, the bruise already well-formed in the hours since the accident.  It followed the shape of his hip perfectly, the final tendrils reaching down into the groove that disappeared below the waistband of his boxers.  You couldn’t stop yourself as you ran your fingers carefully along the shape of it.  Carlos’ eyes never left yours as you watched his face for any signs of pain.  He gave you none.

“Shit, Carlos,”  you felt his stomach move beneath the pads of your fingers as he huffed out a dry laugh. 

“It’s not that bad,” 

“It looks bad, are you icing it?”  He groaned, but there was a smile behind his eyes. 

“Mrs Nurse,”  you gave him a stern look.  “In the fridge,”  ignoring his protests you made your way back to the mini-fridge, collecting an ice pack from the freezer box at the top which you’d previously not noticed and wrapped it carefully in a t-shirt you plucked from the pile on his desk that was waiting to be put away.  Before he could protest, you pressed the pack against his clothed hip.  He hissed as you did so, but relaxed into your touch.  You tried to push down the image that the noise created in your mind. 

Carlos’ hand came to cover yours on the ice pack, so you carefully slid away and let him adjust it against himself.  You settled against his good side as he turned his attention back to the football, now showing the highlights of the game.  You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to press a kiss against his cheek, enjoying the way his lips pulled into a smile and his cheeks flushed a little. 

You sat with him until the football highlights ended, and your phone had pinged three times with questions from Katie about why you hadn't collected your dinner yet.  At the thought of dinner, your stomach growled, which made Carlos’ gaze fix on you with a startled expression. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t eat again,”

“It wasn’t on purpose!”  You defended  “I came here straight after debrief,”  the arm that was around your waist squeezed you into his side and he pressed a dry kiss to your temple.

“‘M glad you did,”  you hummed against him. 

“Me too,”  you could have stayed there all day, but your stomach was making a lot of noise and Carlos was laughing and pushing you to your feet and walking you to the door.

“Go eat, Y/N, otherwise you’ll be no fun to beat tomorrow,”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t be on the front row, Sainz,”  he grinned at you. 

“P2 is good to start from, no?”  You slapped his chest with no malice.  

“See you in my mirrors,” 

“See you on the podium,”

“Top step baby,”

“I’d still be taller,”

“It’s not about height though, is it?”  And then he was kissing you again and pushing you out of his door and you stumbled down to the restaurant to collect your dinner, the haze of him still carrying you. 

*****

Qualifying was relatively unexciting.  After a strong start and a couple of purple sections you were pleased to have made it to Q3, but that was where things started to slip.  An unfortunate late spin saw you struggling to make up time, and your final fast lap was disappointing.  You weren’t really surprised when you were told you’d gotten P7, and you didn’t know what was worse.  The disappointment of knowing you had so much more to give, or the fact that your team were celebrating because, unlike Seb, at least you made it into the final qualifying round.  Carlos had gotten P2, and you watched as he did his live interviews on the grid alongside Charles and Max.  You were a little surprised that Max was only in P3, but you weren’t exactly going to be complaining if it meant keeping the championship battle open a little longer. 

You survived interviews in the media pen, working your hardest to hitch a smile onto your face and answer politely and professionally as you were questioned on your mistakes in every which way.  You knew it came with the territory, but you still dreaded the headlines that evening.  Every driver was criticised by armchair experts the second they weren’t at the top of everything, but for some reason, your gender seemed to only become part of the story when you’d either majorly fucked up or snatched a good win.

You were kind of hoping to see Carlos either in the paddock or on the way back to the hotel, but by the time you’d made it out of the team debrief and you’d had a good long rant with Seb about everything the paddock was nearly empty and so was the restaurant.  You took your meal up to your room and sat stoically watching a sitcom you didn’t follow and pointedly ignoring the internet and anyone from Aston Martin.  The only texts you’d replied to were from your family and the one from Carlos, which came in just as you were about to go to sleep.

Carlos Sainz:  Bad luck today.  Drive fast tomorrow, I want to battle my favourite maneater. 

You were too tired to properly reply, so you just sent him a little heart emoji and slipped into sleep. 

You woke up early the next morning.  Over a quiet breakfast in your room, you made a resolute plan to blatantly ignore everything that had happened up to this point in the weekend and train all your focus on nailing the race.  You made Katie spend nearly two hours in the gym with you going over the final warm-up and conditioning exercises, followed by an extensive stretch-out.

You thought you’d be able to avoid a lot of the chaos of race morning by heading to the stadium early, but you were strongly informed that it didn’t matter how early you were, you were still being escorted by the police to and from the stadium.  The second you stepped out of the hotel into the sunlight you were almost blinded by flashes from cameras, and it took you 20 minutes of ignoring the paparazzi and signing items from fans who were wishing you all the luck in the world today before you could even get to your car.  Usually, you didn’t much enjoy the fan interactions.  It was always nice to have people in your corner but you found being stopped constantly, having to smile for photos and sign something every few steps could wear you down, not to mention the kind of fans that had no boundaries and assumed you would be their best friend, despite having met them ten seconds ago.  However today you found their positivity was fuelling something within you, the desire to outperform everyone else stronger than ever.

As a result, you spent most of the day hiding out in the Aston Martin garage and the offices above.  Several hours were dedicated to agonising over minute details with your head engineer and strategist, the three of you more determined than ever to put you back on the podium as a minimum.  You also spent much longer on your warm-up than normal and went through two cooling vests before you even made it down for the grid walk and National Anthem. 

Sometimes you didn’t mind the grid walk, and Martin Brundle wasn’t exactly difficult to chat to.  But today, standing beside Daniel Ricciardo for the anthem and admiring the headphones that he wore to avoid talking to anyone before a race, you understood him entirely.  It didn’t help that the grid walk was packed.  Simply turning away from the anthem lineup to walk back to your car felt like you were immediately absorbed into a mosh pit.  A throng of hot, sweaty bodies pressed against you from all angles was doing nothing to help you keep a narrow tunnel of focus.  You had three different phones shoved into your face, asking you to say hi to a TikTok live before you even got to the first row.

It almost, almost, felt good to be absorbed in the sea of Ferrari tops buzzing about the place, because at least here you were shielded from pseudocelebrities all clamouring for a piece of - well what you didn’t even know because most of them clearly were not Formula One fans.

When you made it to your car you immediately climbed in, ignoring the way you already felt unbearably hot and how you knew sitting like this for ten minutes before you even got to the formation lap was a bad idea.  You spotted Martin Brundle, looking awkward as he tried to flag down celebrities to interview.  It looked like he knew as few people as you did.  You decided the best thing you could do for yourself was just zone out.  You closed your eyes, finding the right groove in your seat where it felt like your whole body was being cradled by the car, the straps comforting in the way they anchored you in.  Your helmet smelt like a new car, the way you liked it before the padding became soaked in your sweat.  You checked the water tube, twice, and adjusted the position of your radio.  By the time you were sent out on the formation lap you felt like a greyhound out of the trap, the only thing on your mind was the stupid stuffed rabbit you just needed to sink your teeth into. 

And then you were in position and you were revving and you watched, heart thudding throughout your entire body as those five red circles went out and your whole body was thrown backwards and you accelerated like your life depended on it. 

The race in itself was actually quite dull for the majority of it.  You took Lando, who started just a place ahead of you in the first three laps and then sat in a comfortable P6 for nearly half the race.  The leaders had put a significant gap between yourself and them that you didn’t even see George Russel, who was holding his own in 5th until you’d been driving for nearly an hour.  It was an eight-lap battle to get past the Mercedes, who was clearly fighting you for everything he was worth and it took you six DRS zones to finally draw equal enough with him that you could cut him off through a corner and take the position.  It wasn’t until after your strategist complimented you on the particularly smooth manoeuvre that you realised it had been at Turn 14. 

Just ahead of Russel was Perez, the Red Bull’s tail already taunting you and you could see the back of a Ferrari dancing just ahead of you as well.  If you’d thought the battle with Russel had been drawn out, the opposite was true for Checo.  It was like you’d caught the Mexican by surprise as you zipped down the inside straight with your DRS open and there was nothing he could do to stop you. 

“Okay Y/N, gap for P3 is 2.8 seconds,”  your radio crackled. 

“Time to send it?”

“Send it.” 

“Copy,”  you couldn’t keep the grin out of your tone as you began your drive for real.  On a reasonably fresh set of soft tyres, you felt like nothing could stop you as you started driving like it was Q3 all over again and your only goal was pole position.

The Ferrari in front of you was making your life difficult.  You felt like you were almost matched in pace, every time you got close it inched further away.  Every time you took the corner so tightly you could have been Dutch, so did the car in front.  For every attack line you could throw at him, he had a perfect defence line. 

“Gap to Sainz 0.8 seconds, you’ll have DRS on the next lap.  Three laps left,” 

“Copy,”  of course it was Carlos.  He said he wanted a battle and he was sure as hell giving you one.  Determined not to cause a second Imola, you played the game mirroring him and just biding your time, inching ever closer.  By the final lap you were virtually side by side, but every time your DRS opened his did too as Charles didn’t have much of a lead.  You imagined the commentary must be going insane, a Ferrari and an Aston Martin neck and neck into the final lap. 

You decided to take a risk and try a manoeuvre you’d only ever discussed in theory.  You dropped back, letting Carlos take the lead on you again but staying within DRS.  You were trying to pick up a slipstream, hoping that you’d be close enough when your DRS ended that you could use the continued boost of power to just slip past him on an inside corner.  It was like Carlos could read your mind, because you got your perfect opportunity, gaining on him with the DRS open, so close you were almost touching his rear wing.  You took a deep breath, swinging left to come into the first turn of the chicane sharper than him.  You were almost level as you began to push the drift to keep the speed for the second half, but then the Ferrari shot forward and you found yourself following him into the final straight. 

You tried to pull level again, throwing everything at the car on the straight, your eyes entirely trained on that chequered flag as you came over the line and pulled off the throttle. 

You couldn’t help but hold your breath as you waited for your result over the radio. 

“Fantastic drive, Y/N, simply perfect!”  Your radio was alight with delighted messages from the team.  “P4 confirmed, that’s P4 with the fastest lap.  Well done,”  you felt yourself deflate a little at losing the podium.  You’d really wanted it, to saunter into the media pen and smile sweetly at everyone who critiqued you yesterday.  But P4 was good points, and it was your first-ever fastest lap.  You had to admit there was something very pleasant about knowing you had the edge on both the Red Bulls and the Ferraris, yet there was still a bitter taste in your mouth as you pulled off the track and into the pit lane to greet your team. 

*****

The following few hours were a blur.  Your team was delighted with you, and even more so because Seb had clawed his way to P7, meaning double points for the team.  The interviews were insane, lasting twice as long as usual as you answered question after question, most of them about the battle with Carlos on the final laps and if you thought there was anywhere you went wrong. 

You watched the podium from below, and something in you eased a little.  Carlos was all but glowing in the golden evening sunlight, his beam visible across the entire stadium.  The trio also had to wear football helmets instead of the Pirelli caps, and there was some bizarre streamer party which was enough for you to be at least a little satiated with watching from afar.

Seb had congratulated you with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Good drive.  No mercy,”  he’d winked as he clapped you on the back and you had to ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks.  

There was talk of an after-party, which you were planning on tactically avoiding.  You weren’t always straight-laced, and when you were in the mood you loved getting very, very drunk and partying the night away in clubs around the world.  But Miami was Miami and you’d had enough.  The race had taken everything out of you, you were still struggling to want to celebrate the P4 and to be blunt you were sick to the back teeth of people asking you stupid questions.

You had been about to slide off towards the back entrance when Katie caught you.

“Not a chance,”

“What?”

“You are not sneaking away tonight,”  you groaned dramatically, dropping your head back like a small child.  

“I wasn’t-”

“The after-party is at this place,”  she handed you a business card which you looked wearily at.  You didn’t like the idea of a nightclub that comes with its own business card.  “It’s being hosted by a lot of sponsors - don’t look at me like that I’m just relaying the message!  Mike says it’s mandatory.  I’ll be at your hotel room at 9 pm, sharp.”

You just rolled your eyes and grumbled something about free booze, before joining the small queue of drivers waiting for their police escort back to the hotel complex. 

Back at the hotel, you showered in record time and then spent half an hour drying your hair whilst staring blankly at your wardrobe.  You’d asked Katie if there was a dress code and she was yet to reply, which usually meant no.  The idea of clubbing and a sponsorship event happening simultaneously didn’t sit right with you.  You couldn’t exactly wear jeans and your team polo to what seemed like one of the most exclusive clubs in Miami.  You also couldn’t wear the usual skin-tight, see-through and/or barely-there garments clubbing usually came with.  In the end, you picked out one of the shorter dresses you carried with you. 

It was a ridiculous little thing and you hadn’t even been sure where you were ever going to wear it, but you’d seen it in a tiny boutique at home and it plagued you for days until you eventually went back to get it.  It was satin, silky smooth and the perfect slip, and of course, it happened to be Aston Martin green.  You liked it because you thought it made your figure, which was naturally very muscular due to the nature of the sport, appear softer and feminine in a different way to what you were used to.  You decided to pair the dress with black strappy stiletto heels that you’d definitely end up taking off or running the risk of breaking an ankle in and a delicate choker necklace.  You left your hair down and even experimented with some smudged eyeliner that softened and accentuated your eyes before there was a knock at the door and you were greeting Katie.

Katie immediately commented on the green, so you decided that meant it had been a good choice.  She was wearing a skirt and a pretty cami top, also green.  You met up with a handful of other team members in the lobby, including Seb who was wearing dress pants and a white button-down shirt with the top button popped open.  He’d also trimmed his beard and attempted to control the mane of hair he was currently sporting into an organised sweep.

The club was within walking distance of the compound, much to your dismay as you tried to settle into the rhythm of wearing heels.  You wished you were one of those girls who wore heels everywhere, but you spent most of your time in trainers or racing boots so it was taking a little time to get used to the change.  Seb let you hold his arm though, and you were almost the same height in your heels. 

The queue for the club was already winding around the block when you arrived and you found yourself secretly thanking your privilege as your little entourage was sent straight through a black velvet rope and into a VIP door. 

No matter how fancy they are, all nightclubs smell the same.  Of sickly sweet alcohol, sweat and an acrid mingle of perfumes and aftershaves.  You found your nose wrinkling instinctively, and then within seconds spotted a camera so quelled your expression into a soft smile that said ‘I want to be here’.  The party was clearly sponsored by one of the beer brands that had banners all over the race because the usual bar was closed and instead, it was lined with rows of hundreds of green glass bottles, tall tables dotted around also piled high and you even spotted several men in full suits carrying around trays dipping under the weight of the bottles.  The rest of the team had dispersed immediately, and you realised that for a lot of the group it would be more about securing investments and sponsors than it would be about celebrating a good weekend. 

You were glad you had Seb by your side, quickly joined by Mick who looked very sweet in a red bow tie with a lost expression.  The three of you plucked a bottle each off the nearest table and made your way to the seated area where you could watch over the rapidly growing crowd. 

“It must be nearly full already?”  Mick was shouting over the thumping bass, casting a wary look at the entrance where a steady stream of people dressed to the nines was still flowing in.  Seb shook his head, shouting something back that you didn’t quite hear.  The three of you stayed in the booths, having quickly worked out that if you lounged around and looked bored enough a man in a suit would bring you a tray of beer.

You were three in and finally starting to relax when Mick grew tired of trying to make small talk over the noise and started begging you for a dance.  You decided to agree, Seb taking pictures as you and Mick began a horrible rendition of the funky chicken to a song you didn’t know.  He was pulling a wide variety of concentrating expressions as if he was trying his best for you, and it was sending you into fits of giggles.  Eventually, Seb clearly couldn’t stand watching the two of you mimic TikTok dances that were getting worse and worse by the minute and cut in. 

He was showing off, scoping you up into a ballroom pose with one hand respectfully high on your waist and the other supporting your hand delicately as he swept you around in a couple of easy steps.  Mick looked dumbfounded. 

“I didn’t know you can dance!”

“A gentleman that can’t dance, tsk tsk,”  was his smug response.  Ever since he joined Aston Martin, Seb liked to lean into the fantasy that he was James Bond and should behave accordingly.  He was drunkenly trying to show Mick how to dance, you not so subtly videoing off to the side when someone caught your elbow.  

You’d half expected it to be Carlos, you weren’t sure why, you hadn’t seen him all night, but it didn’t stop the small blossom of disappointment in your chest when you found yourself face to face with a man you didn’t recognise, who was holding out a beer for you.  You politely declined as he introduced himself as one of the managers of a company that had stakes in Aston Martin, so you smiled sweetly and made a little bit of idle chit-chat about the cars and the good result until he spotted someone who was clearly more important than you, patted you on the exposed middle of your back in a way that made you shiver uncomfortably and disappeared into the crowd. 

You switched onto the alcohol-free beers after that. 

The rest of the night followed suit.  It was what felt like a seemingly endless cycle of accepting a 0% beer from a man you didn’t know, making a weak attempt at conversation and having a carefully distanced dance with him before he’d see someone else he needed to talk to and move on, leaving you free to sneak off to the toilets for a moment to breathe and take some selfies with the women in there.  You’d lost Mick and Seb shortly after the second businessman dragged you onto the dancefloor, and you liked to think you were holding your own quite well, but you still felt a little lost.  You were trying to fight the urge to crane your neck around in search of Carlos, but you’d given up after a few hours and accepted there was an even more exclusive party for the top teams. 

You’d excused yourself to make another trip to the bathroom, checking your phone on the way to realise it was nearing 1 am and the night was nowhere near over when a hand landed on your bare shoulder, making you turn sharply.

“Cariño!”  It was Carlos.  He was grinning at you languidly.  “There you are!” 

“Hello,”  it was the first real smile you’d managed all night.  Even in the low light, Carlos looked incredible.  He was wearing another white shirt, with the top two buttons popped open and the sleeves rolled up the way he had on your date.  His hair was a little dishevelled, as he ran his fingers through it you realised why.  His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright, still with that podium glow as he looked at you.  And then he looked at you, his eyes flickering down as he took in your whole figure, right down to your toes that were still miraculously in their shoes, and then raked his way back up to your face.  You watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. 

“You look stunning,”  he leant in to speak to you, lips gently grazing the sensitive shell of your ear and his hand almost burning on your waist.  Your body automatically melted into him.  If you thought you’d been relaxing earlier when you were dancing with Seb and Mick, it paled into comparison with the way you felt so right as your body slotted against his, finding your place on his hip with ease. 

“Not so bad yourself,”  you grinned, playing with the collar of his shirt.  His eyes searched your face once more and you knew that if you hadn’t been in a crowded nightclub crawling with journalists and paparazzi and bosses, you would have been all over each other.  “You gonna ask me for a dance?”  You reciprocated his earlier movement, your lips deliberately catching his ear as you spoke.  You felt his chest vibrate in response. 

He took your hand and let you carefully to the dancefloor, spinning you expertly and catching you with ease as he found a spot.  You looped your arms over his shoulders as he began to move slowly.  And then there was a fat hand landing on his shoulder. 

“Carlos, my man!  My guy!”  And Carlos spun around, apparently recognising the man because he dropped you like a hot coal, sending you an apologetic glance and mouthing the word ‘later’ as he was dragged back towards the bar.  You should have known it wouldn’t have been that easy to get a dance with a trophy-holder.  Although you spotted Charles alone in a corner of the dance floor, thrusting into thin air with a grin on his face that said he was already drunk out of his mind. 

You went back to your routine of non-alcoholic beer, bathroom trips and chatting up sponsors, but you weren’t really interested.  You were nodding along absentmindedly as they spoke to you, not really listening as you scanned the crows from your new vantage point on the balcony upstairs.  You spotted Carlos every now and then, each time deep in conversation with someone pressing another beer into his hand. 

By 2:30 am you were almost sober, bored out of your mind and your feet were hurting.  You thought you must have done enough for the team and decided to call it a night, texting Katie quickly to let her know where you’d be.  The second you were outside the air was like a drink of iced water.  It wasn’t cold, instead just soothing as the breeze carried through your lungs and you felt yourself open up as the fumes of the club washed off you.  You kicked off your shoes and padded back to the hotel barefoot.  You probably shouldn’t have walked back alone, but the streets were alive with post-race celebrations and you followed the well-lit road the whole way back. 

You’d barely had time to throw your hair up and wipe off your makeup when there was a hammering at your door.  The figure swayed through the peephole, but you knew who it was. 

When you opened the door there was Carlos, leaning against the doorframe. 

He looked sexy for all but two seconds until he stumbled forwards.  You just about managed to steady him and lead him into your room. 

“Hello,”

“Mi sol,”  his voice was low as he pawed at your dress, not really trying to take it off you but just watching the way the fabric slipped through his fingers. 

“How did you get my room number?”  

“Seb,”  he pursed his lips, making the ‘b’ sound pop, and giggled to himself.  He swayed again and you realised he was very drunk.  His interest had left the dress and he was nosing at your exposed skin, placing kisses messily along your shoulder towards the base of your neck.  You couldn’t deny the goosebumps rising on your skin. 

“And how many beers have you been given, hm?”  You questioned lightly, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. 

“Enough to know you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,”

His lips tasted like beer.

“Carlos,”  you weren’t really protesting as you let him walk you backwards until your knees hit the bed, and he crawled on top of you as you laid back.

“I want you so bad,”  you could only manage another high-pitched sigh in response, your mind clouding over with your want for him.  It felt like he was leaving trails of crackling electricity along your skin.

“Carlos,”

“I know,”  he groaned against your mouth, pressing his hips down against your leg, his fingers teasing up your thigh and slipping below the hem of your dress.  He was pressing sloppy kisses on any part of your neck he could reach.  “You feel so good,”  he was drunk, you told yourself.  This wasn’t right.  It was hard to break away from his spell because he was right.  It did feel so good, and he was barely doing anything.  “The things I wanna do to you,”  you shuddered.

“Carlos,” 

“Do for you,”  Jesus Christ, he wasn’t going to make this easy.

“Carlos, you’re drunk,”  he hummed against your neck, his hips rolling down against yours in vein.  You steeled yourself, fighting every instinct in your body as you gently pushed him back, and moved out from under him. 

“This isn’t a good idea,”  he pouted and whined, reaching out for you like a child.  Those stupid brown eyes would be the death of you one day, you thought.  You let him hold your hands.  “Not tonight, at least,”  he had a glazed look on his face. 

“Okay,” 

You’d have thought he’d fight more than that, but instead, he simply stood up, walked over to your couch and collapsed, eyes closing. 

“Carlos, honey, you can’t sleep here,”

“‘S warm,”  he burrowed down.  You had no idea how he looked so cute, trying to curl up on your couch.

“Come on, you need to go back to your room or they’ll ask questions,”

Carlos, fortunately, had the good grace to be a cooperative drunk and let you walk him back down to his room, you got him in and let him go about wrestling his clothes off whist you got him a glass of water and left a packet of painkillers on the bedside table for him.  He crawled into bed after you helped with the final buttons of his shirt, and diligently ignored the way he was trying to encourage you to lose your dress to match. 

“You should come to Barcelona early,”

“Hm?”

“Stay with me.  I know all the good places,”

“All of them?”  He grinned at you, but it slipped quickly, his eyes sliding out of focus before fluttering shut. 

“All of ‘em,” 

You pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead.

“Okay,”  you said, and made your way back to your empty hotel room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Five

Check out my Masterlist here!

Hello hello

As you can see, there was a reason the gap between this chapter and the last was quite long. This was a MONSTER to write but I've had so much fun with it and it's been a nice break from rotations when I've had time

And for anyone getting antsy, there will be a full smut scene in the next chapter, I promise!

So yeah, not much else to say for this one other than I hope you guys like it and as always feedback is hugely appreciated!!

I also cannot thank you guys enough for the continuing support and love i've had not only on Flat Spin but on the prompt challenge and my other works! It honestly means the world and hearing stuff from you guys is so inspiring and motivating to keep writing <3 <3 I know I don't always reply to every comment, sometimes I don't see them straight away but I see them ALL & will get round to replying to all soon!!

<3 <3

Le Gremlin

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[peakyscillian]

Scars to your beautiful | Cillian x fem!reader |

Summary: Cillian and Y/N attend a film premiere, Y/N is feeling all kinds of insecure. Warnings: Angst, language, arguing. scar reference but nothing graphic or new. Request: @being-worthy A/N: I hope this is ok!

Scars to your beautiful

Lights flashing, people shouting, Cillian had his hand linked tightly with yours, the dress you had been sent was drawing unwanted attention to your body and you could see all the actresses and wives of actors up ahead, posing for the cameras. Cillian was being called left and right for the press, you stood off to the side letting him have his moment in front of the cameras, then his publicist was next to you, leaning close to your ear "Go have a few pictures with him y/n" he smiled, you shook your head shyly. "You look fantasic should show it off" he added after your refusal, you gave him the smallest smile but refused again. Cillian was back by your side, his hand back in yours as you made your way up the carpet to the cinema "wish you would of had a few pictures with me" he commented, you felt your heart sink. "I was just letting you have your moment Cill" you smiled, as he held the door for you, dropping a kiss to your cheek .

The film had been amazing, you were thankful for the dimly lit cinema, you and Cillian had been at the after party for around twenty minutes, he'd gone to the bar leaving you at a table, you could see him laughing and joking with a beautiful co-star, her hand on his arm. You didn't blame either of them Cillian was the most handsome man in the room and she was just stunning, you were surely the most out of place person here, always unsure why Cillian wanted to be with you. Cillian caught your eyes, waving you over, his co-star turned as well a welcoming smile on her face, you shook your head, holding up a finger to signal you'd be back, heading for the toilets. No way could you stand there near her and not feel like you wanted the room to swallow you whole. Standing next to her would only make Cillian realise what a mistake he had made, bringing you, hell even being with you in the first place. *** Cillian excused himself from talking to a few of his co-stars, you had headed to the bathroom a while ago and he was worried you'd been so quiet all evening, fidgetting with the beautiful dress that suited you so well. He knew how insecure you could be, how you were sure he had made a mistake asking you to marry him. He knew it wasn't your fault that you felt this way, he had seen so many negative things destroy the confidence of his sisters he wasn't immune to it. He had seen the scars on your thighs, the marks of your past pain and he just wanted to take everything away, but nights like tonight you pushed and pushed until he was so far away from you, you couldn't hear him. He waited outside the ladies bathrooms, pulling his phone out to send you a message, his patience wearing thinner by the minute, he wasn't one to argue especially not with you, but right now he was getting frustrated, he just wanted you to see how beautiful you were to him and nearly everyone you met. You finally appeared he could see the red puffiness of your eyes, the stained make up on your cheeks, he downed his beer placing the glass on the window ledge behind him. "Hey, hey whats wrong?" concern flooded his body as he held you by your elbows. "I jus-just want to go home Cill" you hiccuped, he bit at his lip, he wanted you here, he had finally persauded you to come along to a premiere and now the night was just getting started and you wanted to leave. He took in a sharp breath "I can call Clive to come get you?" he asked, you nodded "Are you coming?" you questioned, he shook his head. "Y/N it's a big premiere night everyone is here, Enda has asked me to make a speech, he's my closest friend I can't just disappear" he was trying his hardest to keep his cool. You stood on tiptoes to kiss him quickly "It's fine Cillian, enjoy your night I'll see you at home" you went to walk away to wait out by the entrance for his driver. "No, dont you dare make me feel guilty, I was so damn excited to have you here with me tonight, so happy that you agreed to come, then we get here and you dont want pictures, you dont want to talk to my castmates, you hide in the toilets, what more can I do?" he was frustrated you knew that but you couldn't help it.

"I feel like shit ok? I saw you with that women, in the red dress looking like a fucking model, I'll leave you too it yeah?" you pulled your hand from his grasp. "She's my co-star, she was asking to meet you because I never shut up talking about you and you were so rude, now I've got to go back in there and explain you've left because you're jealous?" he was baffled, he didn't know what else he could do "I'm not jealous Cillian, you can fucking have her for all I care" you took off, heels clicking across the marble floor, not looking back at him.

*** You were under the duvet, having got home stripped from the dress leaving it in a pile on the floor of the walk-in wardrobe, heels discarded down stairs, you'd took the make-up off and bundled your hair into a bun before crawling under the covers. You felt so awful leaving Cillian the way you had, but you needed to get out of the party, you didn't belong in his perfect life. You had made your decision, you needed to leave you needed to let Cillian be happy with someone who deserved him.

There was always a bag packed at the back of your side of the wardrobe, waiting for the moment you would need it, you got out from the covers, padding across to the wardrobe, stepping over the dress heading for the bag.

***

You were making your way down the stairs when you heard the front door close, you froze heart pounding. Cillian appeared at the bottom of the staircase, brows knitted together. "What..where are you going?" his eyes fell to the bag in your hand. "I don't deserve you, I shouldn't be with you" you were biting at your lip. Cillian shrugged off his coat, dropping his keys into the dish, taking the steps two at a time to reach you. "I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean to get mad, I just wish you would see how beautiful you are to me, how much I adore you, you're beautiful y/n, so beautiful and I'll spend everyday telling you that, please, please stay" he was pleading, down on his knee's on the step below you. You allowed him to take the bag from your hands, to lead you up the stairs, help you undress and redress into your lounge clothes, tucking you into the bed, promising to be right back after locking up the downstairs, you hadn't said a word. You were overwhelmed, by this man and his love for you, you were still certain you didn't deserve him.

***

Taglist @being-worthy @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @queenshelby @noctvrnalmoth @magicalpieex @datewithgianni @elenavampire21 @cloudofdisney @uchihacumdump

[elizabethan-memes]

reading articles about thomas more i keep noticing how apparently some historians have claimed he was somehow obsessed with sex and/or equally repressed in his sexuality, but the articles never give any sufficient explanation or evidence for such claims or what the reasons for them are lmao…so im wondering if u know what they are referring to?

Oh boy do I!

Indeed, some historians (Richard Marius in particular) have argued that he was obsessed with sex and/or sexually repressed. Personally, I don't think the evidence is that strong for either being true.

Brief content warning: mention of a rape trial

In terms of being sexually repressed, the evidence is the fact that he wore a hair shirt and practised mortification (like whipping himself). This is not enough evidence by itself: Wolsey and Katherine of Aragon also wore hair shirts and people don't argue they were sexually repressed.

There is also a line from Erasmus saying that Thomas More sampled the monastic life "but chose to be a good husband rather than a bad priest." (Ie. he wasn't suited to celibacy so he chose not-sinful married sex rather than sinful priestly concubinage.) Some historians have chosen to take this at face value. However, Erasmus also claimed that in 1511 More married a woman past childbearing age in order to give his children another mother. Why would More reject celibacy in the 1500s only to embrace it in the 1510s? He could have married a widow in her 20s and had more children. So I don't think celibacy was a deal-breaker for More. I think Erasmus possibly misread the situation (and this is a guy who can't correctly name all 4 of More's children- he's probably not the most reliable when it comes to More's private life). Alternatively, Erasmus partly or wholly fictionalised that bit. Erasmus advocated in his life that marriage was equal to celibacy in holiness, and if you were unsuited to the latter, it was right to choose the former. It's quite possible he used More as an upright honourable example of that ideal, and to make More look good, never mind the truth.

Interestingly, historians who think More was sexually repressed assume it was heterosexuality that he was repressing. Only one scholar I know of (in a book on renaissance friendship) tentatively speculated that More perhaps chose marriage over monastery because he couldn't handle the temptation of living with men.

In terms of being obsessed with sex, scholars look at More's writings. More did tell some rather ribald jokes. He said that women were being absurd when they said they were too small to marry because "if you can get your legs around a horse, you can get them around a man". He also joked of a woman that "she is my wife by day and Cranevelt's wife by night". The epitaph he wrote for himself said that he looks forward to having both his wives back because they can all 3 live together merrily as they weren't permitted on earth. (A bigamy joke or a threesome joke? Either way.) He wrote a story about candles shaped like penises. He also wrote a story where a lawyer wins a rape case by taking out his client's penis and showing it to the accuser and saying "do you recognise this member?" Naturally the woman is embarrassed so she says "no, no" and the lawyer uses that as proof his client is innocent. Gross, I know. Personally, the fact he was happy to joke about sex suggests to me that he wasn't repressed. If he was repressed, I think he'd avoid the subject. But I wouldn't say he found sex more interesting a topic than other medieval people did. (Like the manuscript illuminators painting penis trees, for instance).

More significantly, in his anti-Luther polemic he will not shut up about the fact that Luther (a monk) married Katherine van Bora (a nun). Some take this as evidence for an obsession with sex. However, this isn't strong evidence, as More's aim is to discredit Luther by attacking his moral character. In More's mind, Luther and van Bora are basically sex criminals, because they're bound by holy oaths to be celibate. It's not the sex that's bothering More, it's the crime.

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

OK! THIS IS PROBABLY MY FAVOURITE FLUFFYNIGHTKILLER HEADCANNON I'VE COME UP WITH.

My people, I love this and I hope you do. Its a long one, but I promise its worth it.

So ever since I read this head cannon from @yuriyuruandyuraart I've had one nagging thought.

Polygamous marriage is illegal.

So as much as I loved this story of them getting engaged, they couldn't ever get married, but I didn't wanna rain on everyone's parade so I kept it to myself. Until now!

While talking with @jann-the-bean I came up with this and Jan loved it! So I hope you guys do to.

So imagine that the 3 of them are going around telling their friends and family about their engagement, in the classic happy kind of way. It's all well and good, Dream is thrilled to find out his brother is so happy. However, then he realises the law and Dream pulls his brother aside.

Dream "Uhh Night...Can I talk to you?"

Nightmare "yeah?"

Dream "I'm so happy that you got engaged brother.."

Nightmare "........."

Nightmare "but?"

Dream "but..... But isn't Polygamous marriage illegal?"

Nightmare "......."

And that was the glass shattering moment. Dream wasn't trying to be cruel or anything like that. He was just generally concerned that Nightmare hadn't thought of that.

So later that night, Nightmare brought it up to his partners and of course both of them where upset when they remembered that law. So began a long talk about what they could do. In the end Ccino mostly just said that it didn't matter to him if they were married, so long as they were together. Since he's still just a small city boy, he didn't really see that there was to much they could do, he was content to just maybe have a ceremony where they promise to be life partners, but not marry.

Nightmare and Killer on the other hand were not satisfied with that.

That Night, when Ccino was asleep the two got to talking. I like to think that over the years that Nightmare and Killer have become icons for the poly community, much like Elton Jon is one for the gay community. The two of them decided that they were going to use this to fight for the right to marry each other.

It started small. Posts on social media, comments in interviews. They started speaking out that they should be allowed to be wed. Because they loved each other and the law shouldn't stop them. There where online polls and campaigns as their fan base who had been a huge fan of the throuple started to back them up.

This is when Ccino became alerted to what they were doing. He was scared that they could damage their reputations and careers over this. He told them that he wasn't worth everything they were risking. That if they really wanted to get married, the two of them could and he'd just keep being their boyfriend.

They told him no and then lovingly told him to shut up and they would take care of it.

So began the start of a long legal battle, which all together spanned about 2 years. From when they first started talking about it online, to when the find judgment was made. They were denied.

In the end the court ruled that if polygamy was legalised, it would cause alot of issues. Its a taboo for a reason, and some people would just abuse it for their own gain.

Both Killer and Nightmare were heart broken. Ccino told them that he was so proud of them for trying and that he loved them more then ever. But Killer and Nightmare were still really upset.

This upset Ccino, because he'd seen how hard they had worked and as he thought over everything, he realised that he was actually irritated himself. In fact, he was a little angry. So now it was his turn to say No.

Ccino "you know what? No!"

Killer "what?"

Ccino "they said they couldn't legalise it because people would abuse the system"

Nightmare "yeah?"

Ccino "well I say No! That doesn't apply to us. You aren't some guy who wants a bunch of wives. We are 3 people who all love each other equally. We should have the right to marry"

Killer and nightmare "........"

Killer "we thought you said that you were ok with it"

Ccino "I'm not. Of course I'm not! I want to marry you both! "

So this prompted them to start a new campaign. If Polygamy couldn't be legalised for everyone, then they was campaign for the court to give the 3 of them legal right to marry. If a man could get the rights to marry himself (true story) and a women could be granted the right to marry a building (again, true story) then the 3 of them should be granted permission to marry.

So they took it back to court and this time Ccino took a more active roll in it, though Nightmare and Killer were more dominant. Ccino appeared with Nightmare and Killer in some interviews, but even if his mental health was much better at this point, he still couldn't fully handle all the pressure. But he put in a lot of work behind the scenes to help his partners in the case.

They Luckily still had the support of the public. They argued that they didn't want to abuse the system, they didn't want to have the bunch or wives or a bunch of husbands. They were 3 people who all loved each other deeply and just wanted to be married to each other.

Imagine the judge in court asking them why they wanted to make it legal to marry Ccino and why they couldn't just date him. And Killer just stands up like.

"dude have you seen him!? Who wouldn't want to make that fluffy marshmallow their husband?"

Then as Jan said this leaves poor Ccino (who is sat next to him) just a blushing mess and he says “Killer, don’t be so loud it’s embarrassing..”

Meanwhile, nightmare staring the judge dead in the eyes.

“I agree he’s to adorable not to marry, I mean if we don’t marry him someone else may try to steal him. And I refuse to let that happen”

(thanks for these ideas Jan)

After another 2 years or so of fighting for it. After all the public backing and the long process. Killer, Nightmare and Ccino are finally granted the right to marry.

Just imagine Nightmare trying to keep composed in court, though his having a little party in his head, and Killer on the other hand just stand on his table in court like.

"yes! Ha!"

Then he points at Ccino "guess what fluffy buns! We are marrying you!"

Ccino is so shocked, but he's also so happy. He truly never would have dreamt of this happening.

The moment that Nightmare, Killer are handed over the legal documents, they don't waste a moment, they grab Ccino and jump straight into their car. Then they drive straight to Las Vegas to elope not stopping to change or pack any clothes or anything, because they don't want to wait a second longer.

Of course Ccino gets super flustered at their suggestion to elope.

Ccino "get m-married right now!? But don't you want to wait? And have some big celebrity wedding? You mentioned it before"

Nightmare "nope"

Killer "we've been engaged for over 4 years, we want to put a ring on it right now!"

Nightmare "we don't need a big wedding, or all that stuff. We just need you to say I do"

Nightmare and Killer "so... Will you?"

Ccino "......"

Ccino "YES!"

(though maybe they stopped to pick up dream on the way. Nightmare probably knows that Dream would kill him if he missed his wedding.)

So the 3 were married in a small Chapel. Nothing fancy, but for them it was perfect. They all agreed that they would probably host a proper reception and ceremony for their friends and family to attend later. But for now, they didn't need that, they just needed to be married. It was a very small simple thing.

They probably stayed in a Vegas hotel that night. Probably had some time to celebrate. I just imagine Killer waking the two of them up the next morning with breakfast he'd ordered like:

"Good morning Husbands"

And he just can't keep the smile off his face.

About a year later they have a more formal ceremony. Which of course is super fun. But for them it doesn't change that fact that their actual wedding was truly perfect.

And dam I just love those 3. Jan was the one who wanted me to share this with you guys and I really hope you like it as much as me.

Dam it Dream XD

BTW, I know this most likely isn't fully realistic to what the legal system is like, but give me a break. I’m not a lawyer, I’m a shipper. Its fiction, just let me have it.

studio verse by @zu-is-here

original nightmare by jokublog

original killer by rahafwabas

original ccino by black-nyanko 

Oh and @kotikaleo I'm sorry I forgot to tag you! You always as to be tagged in this stuff. Sorry idk if you saw it

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Nine

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Eight

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Word count: 4K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse

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PMRC DEMANDS CENSORSHIP, DEVELOPES A LIST OF THE "FILTHY 15."

1. Prince, "Darling Nikki", flagged for sex/masturbation

2. Sheena Easton, "Sugar Walls", flagged for sex

3. Judas Priest, "Eat Me Alive", flagged for Sex/Violence

4. Vanity, "Strap On Robbie Baby", flagged for sex

5. Mötley Crüe, "Bastard", flagged for violence/language

6. AC/DC, "Let Me Put My Love Into You", flagged for sex

7. Twisted Sister, "We're Not Gonna Take It", flagged for violence

8. Madonna, "Dress You Up", flagged for sex

9. W.A.S.P., "Animal (Fuck Like a Beast)", flagged for sex/language/violence

10. Def Leppard, "High 'n' Dry (Saturday Night)", flagged for drug/alcohol use

11. Mercyful Fate, "Into the Coven", flagged for occult themes

12. Black Sabbath, "Trashed", flagged for drug/alcohol use

13. Mary Jane Girls, "In My House", flagged for sex

14. Venom, "Possessed", flagged for occult themes

15. Cyndi Lauper, "She Bop", flagged for sex/masturbation

Tipper freaking Gore, the wife of the senator at the time, Al Gore, and bunch of other political housewives got their panties in a twist in 1985 and decided to demand artists either censor themselves when creating music, leaving no room for even the slightest hint at sex, drugs, alcohol, satanism, occultism, violence, language, or anything else almost every artist uses one of to express themselves in their music.

When musicians across the board practically told Tipper, the other wives, and everyone else that called themselves a member of the Parents Music Resource Center, to go fuck themselves, they decided to slap censorship stickers on records that contained any of the mentioned offenses.

Even John Denver got hit with censorship for his song "Rocky Mountain High."

It didn't shock me when my mother was photographed with Tipper after attending one of the hearings.

Mötley was invited to a hearing to defend their content and speak their opinions with a handful of others being censored, but they never batted an eye when the news first came out because they knew having an "X" or "XX" or "XXX" rating for violence, language, sex, drugs, alcohol, etc. would only make kids buy the record more. And it did.

"It's bullshit." I state, tossing the news paper article aside.

"It's politics." Fred replies taking a bite of his bagel.

"These womens' sex lives must be atrocious or else they'd be spending more time on their husbands' dicks and less time on these people's." I motion to the article with the list on it.

"Babe--"

"If these polotical lunatics spent as much energy taking care of their own damn kids, as they're spending attempting to villainize artists who're expressing themselves, they would realize that it's not Mötley Crüe's or anyone else's job to raise their children. If you're so scared of your kids trying all this stuff, have a conversation with them about it and tell them about it, honestly, instead of relying on the music they listen to, to properly teach them about it. And at the end of the day, they're gonna buy the record whether their parents want them to or not, and they're going to try all kinds of stuff, no matter who talks to them about it, if they really want to try it." I continue my rant, Fred, Doc, Nikki, Vince, Tommy and Mick all looking at me, waiting for me to be done.

"Are you done, Sister Christian?" Vince asks me and I glare at him.

"Viv, it's publicity. Who gives a fuck?" Nikki asks me. "The kids are gonna go for the nastiest rated album anyway. The more 'X's the better."

"Yeah, but the audacity of--" Tommy's teaching his hand around my shoulder and covering my mouth before I can continue and I look at him where he's beside me.

"I've got a headache. I'm hungover, Viv. I love you, but I don't need to hear a Vivian Bitch Fit right now." Tommy explains to me.

I just look at him like he's lost his mind for shutting me up, and he cautiously moves his hand away.

I give him a ten second reprieve before shouting, at the top of my lungs:

"The audacity of these people pisses me off!" I finish what I was going to say and Tommy and Nikki are both jumping out of their seats a little at the sudden shouting, covering their ears, wincing, before Nikki's looking at me, sharply.

I roll my eyes at him and he grabs roughly at my thigh under the table, uncomfortably sinking the tips of his fingers into my flesh.

Ignoring him, I take a sip of my coffee, as he glances around and stands up.

"I gotta piss." He tells us, but I know why he's going to the bathroom.

I wait for him to disappear past the "Men's Room" sign in the Denny's before I get up and follow after him.

I walk in, catching the tail end of him snorting a line, and I cross my arms, waiting outside of the stall he's in.

I hear the familiar "click" of a needle being uncapped.

"Nikki. It's 10:00 in the morning." I tell him.

"Fuck off."

"Nikki."

"Fuck off."

"Nikk--"

"Fuck off."

"Make me."

I wait for him to come out of the stall and do what I dared him to, but I just hear the sound of him sighing out in relief as opiate hits his system, drowning out whatever argument we were about to get into.

When he didn't want to hear me complain or try to talk him out of stuff, he would run to his favorite room in his mind: his heroin den.

If we were at home, he'd lock himself in the closet, with me begging him to come out.

He'd open the door for me right before passing out so he could at least say he tried.

If we were in public or at a hotel, he'd lock himself in the bathroom and do the same thing.

The sound of vomit smattering the floor has me wincing as he mumbles "fuck it" and opens the stall door, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't fuckin' give me that hit dog look." He tells me, moving past me to the sink, splashing some water on his face, smearing his already smeared eyeliner that makes him look like a raccoon that's been digging around in a dumpster.

"I'm not giving you any kind of look." I mumble, forcing him to look at me as I wet a paper towel and wipe his black-coated eyelids clean.

The smell of his vomit infiltrates my nostrils and I throw the paper towel away before pulling at his wrist to leave. 

Being that he's perfected his magical potion, he isn't too jittery from the coke or nodding off from the heroin.

He's just quiet.

We leave Denny's and head straight to the airport to head back home, being they wrapped up the last show of the U.S. tour last night.

Next is Europe.

Once we land in L.A., Christmas music blares through the speakers of the airport and reminds me that it's already nearing the end of December.

Apparently Vince is reading my mind because he mumbles, "apparently time flies when you're in hell."

Amen, Vince. A-fucking-men.

The second Nikki and I get into the limo to take us to our house, he's busting out a vile of blow that's nearly empty.

"Fuck, I gotta get Jason over, asap." He tells himself and I rub my lips together.

"You know, we haven't even bought a Christmas tree since we've been married." I tell him, trying to distract myself from his previous comment.

"Yeah." He says, basically blowing me off and I reach the toe of my sneaker out and nudge him on the kneecap as he gets the tip of our house key and scoops some from the bindle, snorting a bump.

"Babe." I continue to tap his kneecap until he's got his hand around my ankle, loosely, stopping me.

"What, Viv?"

"What did I just say?" I ask him, crossing my arms.

He just blinks at me, smirking a little.

"I'll gladly tell you when I finish this." He holds the bindle up.

I lean forward and take it from him, holding it hostage when he attempts to take it.

"You'll get it back when I get a Christmas tree." I tell him, raising my brows.

"Are you fucking me right now?" He asks, chuckling, not thinking I'm serious.

"No...but now that you mention it, I want that, too. Then you can get it back." I add and he smirks.

By the time we get to a department store, get my clothes back on and his pants zipped back up, grab an artificial tree, lights and ornaments, and finally get to the house, it's nearly one in the morning.

"Okay, Saint Vivian, gimme my shit back." Nikki states, carrying the boxed up tree while I carry the bags of lights and ornaments.

"Put the tree up so I can decorate it and I will." I reply.

"That wasn't apart of the deal." He argues, his tone still light.

"Well now it is." I reply.

"That's cheating."

"I made the deal. I make the rules." I shrug.

"You're making me work for something that's already mine." His free hand pulls at my waist, turning me to him and I grin mischievously as he shakes his head a little. "That's it, Sixx." He tells me before crouching enough to wrap his arm around my thighs and throw me over his shoulder.

I laugh manically, partially out of fear that he'll drop me, but also because this is the Nikki I fell in love with.

Playful, lighthearted, aggravating but meaning well, Nikki.

He manages to dig his house key out again and unlock the door before stepping in and turning on the lights in the foyer.

"Baby, put the bags down for now." He tells me and I drop them as carefully as I can while he puts the box the tree is in, down.

He's walking us to the living room, laughing when he pretends to trip and I gasp, digging my nails into him like a cat holding onto its owner to avoid a bathtub full of water.

When he flips the next light on, he stops immediately.

My mind is in shambles for a moment as I try to put together why so many people are in my house once Nikki's nearly dropping me out of shock, not even hearing them all scream out, "surprise!"

Steven and Tansy are at the forefront of people as the explosion of glitter, a mixture of neon and pastel decor, an abundance of various alcohol options, scantily clad women, a handful of Nikki's friends he hangs out with outside of Mötley Crüe, and a big ass, two-tier cake with every curse word known to man written in pristine is cursive font on the sides of it is soaked in by mine and Nikki's eyes.

Steven's wearing a beer hat, smiling widely, while Tansy looks like a sallow Barbie doll, but she's still forcing out a grin for the sake of us, and everyone's waiting for mine and Nikki's reactions.

Nikki and I exchange looks, confused as ever.

"Why is it a surprise?" I finally ask, deciding it's best if I ask instead of Nikki, because all he wanted to do was come in, shoot up, have a few lines, fuck around with me some more, and pass out.

But instead he's being forced to socialize in his own house.

His safe place has been infested.

Steven and Tansy seem horrified that we don't understand the reason for the apparent party.

"...Because it's your birthday?" Tansy reminds me.

"And Nikki's was a couple weeks ago, but he wasn't here to celebrate it." Steven adds, his smile is long gone, his eyes focused on Nikki who looks like he could kill someone right now.

"Oh, right!" I pretend that I know that it's my birthday today, and everyone seems to let out a breath of relief. "It's been a long day." I explain, stepping to the two blondes, hugging them both tightly. "Thank you so much."

While everyone else starts going on with the party, music starting to blare throughout the house on the stereo speakers, cracking open beer, whiskey, and vodka, as girls strip down to bikinis to go swimming, Nikki's still standing at the door, the look on his face is a mixture or pissed off, disappointed, and "I need another dose."

"Babe." I say gently to grab his attention, hazel eyes looking to me as a jaw tightens. "C'mon, just for a couple hours."

"I'll be right back." He tells me, shoving through people to get to our bedroom.

I brush off his attitude the second I feel hands on my shoulders, squeezing them a little and I snap around to meet Duff's chest.

"Hey, birthday girl." He greets me cooly, and I'm hugging him before I can stop myself.

Something wet falls on my hand when I pull away, and just as I'm about to look around for whatever it was, his fingers that are sticking out of leather gloves that just cover his palms, are brushing at my face.

"What's up?" He asks me, furrowing his brows a little.

What is up? Why the hell are you crying?

"I-I'm happy." Is all I can say, chuckling, wiping more tears.

He knew it was bullshit. I was happy, sure. Happy to get the fuck off the road. Happy to get a break from Nikki and Tommy harassing Vince. Happy to get away from Doc's constant pressing for more tour dates to milk as much money as possible. Happy to be able to hangout with balls of optimism and sunshine like Duff and Steven and have Slash show me his pet snakes like he'd been meaning to, and for Izzy to tell me what music I should have been listening to, and for Axl to go on and on about Tansy but then completely deny he was interested in her because he was too much of a dork to just ask her out.

"I'll be right back, alright?" I tell Duff, looking around to see Nikki's nowhere to be seen.

"Okay." He tells me, swigging from a bottle of vodka.

I thread through people who tell me "happy birthday" and I thank each of them, genuinely, before opening up the bedroom door, and shutting it behind me, stepping to our bathroom.

"Baby?" I ask, seeing Nikki standing at the mirror, teasing his hair some more. "I had no idea they would do this." I tell him.

"I had no fucking idea it was even your birthday, apparently." He grumbles. "Shows how much I care, right? Husband of the year. Something else to be hung over my head anytime we get into a fight." 

"Hey, I didn't even know it was my birthday. The guys didn't either. You've all been busy and working hard and tired. I'm not going to hold this over you, Nikki." I assure him, fixing a piece of his hair for him.

I didn't realize his pride was so hurt by the gesture Steven and Tansy made.

I found out later it was Duff who brought up the idea to Tansy, who recruited the Ken to her Barbie: Steven, to help her orchestrate it.

That was another indication to Nikki that he needed to slow down, forgetting his own wife's birthday, but he didn't listen to it a bit.

"I really don't want to do this shit, Vivian." He tells me, rubbing his eyes.

"And I do?"

"They're your friends." He sighs.

"What's mine is your's." I say as I kiss his cheek and he groans.

"You owe me." He tells me as I step out of the bathroom. "Matter of fact, I want my coke back."

"Um, I can't hear you, babe. I'm sure I will when these people leave." I tell him.

"Viv--"

"I-I think you're breaking up, I'll talk to you later." I keep going, walking to the bedroom door.

"I'll break something up when these people get the fuck outta my house!" He calls back and I shut the door behind me.

The night goes on as people play beer pong on the dining room table, dance on whatever and whoever they can, snort lines off any flat surface available, and chug whatever is in their cups, drowning pain and becoming oblivious.

I hate to break it to Nikki, but I don't want these people driving in their condition, so they'll have to stay here tonight or call cabs.

After a few hours, people are either pairing off or grouping off to go get laid, passed out, or too high to function properly and are just chilling out.

Steven's observing his work, drinking from his beer cans perched in his hat when I approach him, looking for Duff.

"Have you seen Duff?" I say over the music and he nods.

"Yeah, I think he's by the pool." He tells me.

"The pool?"

"Yep."

I furrow my brows, stepping to the French doors leading outside, seeing Duff and Tansy sitting down on the pool deck, talking

"Is he pissed?" She asks me, referring to Nikki, after I sit next to her.

"I would say go see for yourself but I don't want to toss you into the lion's den." I admit. "He hasn't come out all night."

"I'll go talk to him." She says. "If he's mean to me I'll just cry and make him feel bad like I do to Vince."

Duff and I exchange looks at her confident words before she's walking away in her neon pink bikini.

"Everyone calming down?" Duff asks in a slur, and I nod, glancing through the doors to look at the guests for a few seconds. "How does it feel to be twenty-two?" He adds, rubbing his nose and I raise my brows a little, glancing at the bottle of vodka he's been working on all night.

"It's weird." I mumble. "I was a senior in high school five years ago." The reality hits me and he raises his brows. "God, I'm old."

"You were seventeen your senior year?"

"In pre-k my teacher decided I was too smart for the class and vouched for me to be moved up to kindergarten, and it didn't take my kindergarten teacher long to convince the principle of the elementary school to let me start in the first grade since they hadn't really started in on their curriculum for the year." I explain.

"I couldn't even meet the basic requirements of alternative school." He tells me.

"You're a freaking genius, you just didn't apply yourself." I tell him and he shrugs.

"I had more important things to get done.

"I guess you did." I agree, gently scoring the bottle of alcohol away from him.

"I know you're tired of me saying this, but, Viv, you gotta get back to dancing."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah. I mean, imagine me giving up music for someone I'm in a relationship with so I can hold their hand or fucking babysit them or whatever. I mean, sure it shows I love them a lot, but it would just make who ever I was with look like a fucking bitch. And I've talked to Nikki before and he told me he didn't want you to quit dance and he wanted you to go to school." He explains. "Why didn't you?"

"I had more important things to get done." I repeat him.

"I don't know if you're selfless sometimes, or just not thinking." He says, before his face suddenly falls. "I sound like an asshole right now, I'm sorry." He apologizes and I shake my head.

"I'm not upset, I know what you mean." I assure him.

"Okay." He rubs his eyes again like a sleepy child.

"Do you need me to help you to bed?" I offer and he waves his hand at me a couple times.

"No, no, I got it." He assures me, standing up.

He nearly falls over.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." I comment, helping him inside as he apologizes.

"I'm sorry I'm being out of hand right now, Viv, I don't get like this every night." He tells me as I open our guest bedroom and thank God nobody's in here, although it's obvious someone has been screwed to oblivion on the bed.

I just throw the blanket on the edge of the bed over the mattress and help him lay down.

"Thank you." He says as I pull his boots off and set them nice and neat on the floor at the foot of his bed.

"You're welcome." I reply, setting the garbage can beside him incase he needs it. "Goodnight."

I'm about to leave, but his hand gently grasps at my hand, stopping me.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"I'm really glad we met and we're friends, Viv." He tells me, grasping my hand in his like I'm going to walk out anyway and not listen to what he's got to say.

"I am, too, Duff." I say back, smiling a little. "Sleep tight, okay?"

"Yeah." He nods his head.

"Alright, goodnight."

I go to kiss him "goodnight" on the cheek, but my entire system and body locks up the second he misreads my intentions, and kisses me.

This sounds so counteractive to who I am now and what I stand for currently, and it was ignorant of me to think such a way back then, when so many people close to me were heavily affected, some of them even dying, by drugs and alcohol...but I use to wish I liked alcohol or drugs, or even felt drawn to them.

By '87 I'd had several miscarriages, my marriage was hanging by a thread after only being married for four years, I was having an identity crisis and my entire world was seeming to fall apart and it became routine to buy a bottle of vodka or whiskey, or pills, or blow and just stare at it--trying to convince myself to go for it--for an hour before pouring it out or flushing it.

The people around me, which by that point was mainly Duff and his band, started to pick up on this struggle I had. And although they knew I had to be in some kind of extreme pain to be considering reaching such lows, they carried an "if you don't laugh about it, you'll cry" method of pulling me out of such spells.

Anytime we would be hanging out and I'd opt to try something they were doing, they would call it the "Golden Question Game" because the "Golden Question" was always "is Vivian actually gonna do it this time?" and they wouldn't argue with me about it or try to stop me because they knew the answer would always be "no" even if I didn't think it would be.

I even made the reckless suggestion to try heroin, and got as far as Izzy getting it in the syringe for me, trying to explain to me how to shoot it, how to angle it, how to know I'd hit a vein, with Steven, Slash and Duff all waiting to see if I was that desperate for an escape.

Like everything else I would think about doing, I just sat on the floor next to Izzy and stared at the golden liquid in the syringe and thought, "who the fuck are you to get pissed and angry at Nikki and Tansy for their addiction to this shit, and how it's destroying them, and then turn around and do it yourself?"

I shot it into the air away from me, handed the empty syringe back Izzy, thanked him for letting me waste his time and dose of smack, went to the bathroom with Duff at my heels, and cried.

I never went through with any of it because I knew I would never, ever, come back from it.

I would've drank myself to death or drugged myself past the point of no return and would have ended up a statistic.

I just needed a new escape because my original high became a heroin addict, and December 23, 1985, had me realizing more about Duff than what I had noticed before: Vodka was a hell of a lot easier to be around than heroin.

[thatssonanii]

Fight

Bloodline Family Series / Parental Paragraphs

"Aye, Milo."

Taking his head out of his locker for a moment, Milo looked at his classmate with his brow raised. He was trying to switch his math book for his Spanish one while he waited for his cousins to meet him. They always walked to their third period class together.

"Your mama comin' to the game Friday?"

Milo rolled his eyes as he continued with what he was doing. "She's always at my games, VJ. Everybody knows that."

Milo watched VJ's two friends laugh and whispered behind him. His patience was starting to wear thin. Milo and his cousins never messed with VJ or his friends. Not their type of people.

"So, shit," he shrugged, "That mean your fine ass aunties comin' too then?"

"And so are my uncle's and my dad. You wanna say that shit to them? Cause I'm sure they'd love to hear it."

"Stop being so hostile, man. Just put in a good word for me and my boys. We know they fine asses get real lonely when they men ain't here."

Milo slammed his locker, cradling his Spanish book on his other hand. He glared at the three boys, he could feel his face start to heat up. "And what the hell would they want with y'all?"

"They look like they could use some dick," VJ said grabbing onto his dick. "Especially ya moms. Her face always tore up, ya pops must not know what he doin."

"Get outta here talkin about my mama. Don't get messed up."

VJ and his friends laughed as other students started to notice the tension. "Stop bein like that, Milo. I'm tryna help. Ya moms is just my type too. Small waist, nice titties and a fat ass. Shit, aunties got ass too."

As VJ threw his head back to laugh, Milo dropped his book and swung. His fist connecting with VJ's jaw. The hit knocked VJ off his feet. His friends that were once laughing now stood silently, watching their friend for his next move. None of them expected that from Milo. Just as VJ picked himself up a small crowd started to form around the boys, VJ's friends faded back into it.

"Your soft ass hit me in my fuckin' mouth. Ya ass can't take a joke?" VJ complained holding his jaw.

Milo huffed ignoring the pain in his hand. "Don't talk about my mama or my aunties. I told you that."

"I say whatever the fuck I wanna say. You got lucky that time, next time you better hope you don't miss."

"Whatever, bruh. Keep them out ya mouth."

"How bout this? You tell them to keep my dick outta they mouths then withcha bitch ass."

Milo attacked VJ's face and upper body with repeated blows. VJ was able to get two hits in before Milo tackled him to the ground. Those punches only pissed Milo off even more.

While Milo was beating VJ up, Eli and Koda were coming out of the stairwell. They were held up by their literature teacher. Koda saw the crowd and pointed it out to his cousin.

"Bet it's some hoes fightin'," Eli joked.

Koda laughed as they approached the cirlcle. "Let Auntie hear ya ass say that shit."

They boys bowed their way through the fight. They laughed at their peers who were screaming for someone to break it up and at the ones recording the fight. But when they got to the middle, their smiles were gone. Milo was still on top of VJ, VJ was attempting to fight back but it wasn't working. Milo was beating his ass. Both boys cursed to themselves before pulling Milo off of the boy. As they were pulling Milo back, the assistant principal and the principal came barreling through the tight circle with school security in tow. School security and principal grabbed the cousins up, escorting them to the office while the assistant cleared the other students and checked on VJ. The cousin got thrown inside the principal's office. The security left them with the principal.

"I expect this kind of behavior out of you two," Principal Brown said looking at Koda and Eli. "But you, Mr. Fatu. I'm shocked that you allowed your cousins pull you into this mess."

Eli sucked his teeth and threw his hands up. "I'm real offended that you think that low of me, Mr. Brown. It wasn't even me, I was the peace maker. Koda too."

"Peace maker my foot. You just close your mouth until your parents get here."

"Forreal," Koda stressed. "The fight had started before we even got there. We broke it up, Milo was beatin' VJ ass."

"Watch your mouth, Mr. Reigns. Is that true, Mr. Fatu?" He asked with the phone to his ear.

Milo said nothing, he stared straight ahead. Opening and closing his fists.

"It's true," Eli answered loudly, "I ain't get nan lick in. Cuzzo ain't let us get a two piece, nothin. Straight dogged VJ ass."

"I was talking to that Mr. Fatu. Not you, Eli." Mr. Brown said dialing the first number. "And watch your mouth."

"I just got a question. Why they get 'Mr." and I'm just Eli. That's messed up, Mr. Brown. Thought we were better than that."

All three sets of parents pulled up at the same time. The men allowed their wives to go in front of them. Jimmy and Trinity were pissed, they didn't have time to deal with Eli and his attitude. Kandice and Roman were annoyed, Koda was always following up Eli. They were sure whatever happened could have been avoided. Apryl and Jey were upset that Eli no good ass couldn't stay his ass out of trouble therefore Milo couldn't stay his ass out of trouble. Simba was just happy to be out of the house and able to go to Milo's school. He skipped in between the group of parents. The secretary allowed them into the conference room where the principal had moved the boys. Jimmy and Trinity went straight to Eli, both of them slapping him in the back of his head.

"Yoooo," he sung out holding his had, "Yall wild. That wasn't even me! It was Creed over there."

Kandice twisted Koda's ear. "What did you do?"

"Me? Im the most innocent thing sittin' in here. Mike Tyson over there knocking people out and that one said hoes again. It's them Fatu boys, Mama. I'm an angel."

Roman smacked the back Koda's neck, glaring down at him.

"I'm just sayin', Pop."

"How about you don't say anything?" Roman warned.

Simba climbed into his brother's lap, the parents sat on either side of their children waiting for the principal to tell them what happen.

"Seems that you sons were involved in a fight with another boy. The boy is bruised up pretty bad, there's an ambulance on the way for him."

"Ambulance? What did y'all do?" Trinity asked glaring at her son. "Yall jumped that boy? For what?"

"What? No! We," Eli stressed pointing to himself and Koda, "didn't get nan lick in, Ma. Milo fought that boy."

"Stop lyin," Jimmy spat.

Mr. Brown cleared his throat. "If I may. Eli is telling the truth. I viewed the cameras, it was a one on one fight. Mr. Fatu fought the other boy. Eli and Mr. Reigns here we're trying to break it up. But Eli, you did, in fact, get a hit in. I saw that much. Mr. Reigns did also but it was after Mr. Fatu hit him on accident and Mr. Reigns assumed the other boy hit him though."

"See. Here we go with this Eli stuff. I wanna be 'Mr. Fatu', call fight night over there Milo."

"Shut your ass up, Elijan."

"Yes, Mama." Eli sat back in his chair pouting. Even when he wasn't in trouble, he was in trouble.

"So what you're saying is my son did this," Apryl asked with a smirk. "Can we see this footage? Cause I don't know if I believe that my goofy baby did that. Especially for the boy to need an ambulance."

Mr. Brown went to stand but Eli held his hand up making every adult in the room suck their teeth. "Koda got the video, Auntie. Shorty from first period sent it to him." Eli smirked.

"Why that lil heffa got your number?" Kandice whispered.

"Not the time, Kandi," Roman chastised, "Give me your phone, Koda."

Koda unlocked his phone and went to the message thread before handing the phone over. "Aight. Pops don't scroll left or right and as soon as the video is over look away."

Roman glared at his son as he snatched the phone out of his hands. The twins, Trinity and Apryl got up to get a closer look at the phone. They gasped and cussed to themselves as they watched the beat down Milo gave. Once the video was over, Apryl couldn't help but smile. She was proud. Patting her son on the back when she got back to her seat.

"I'm just still confused. My son is goofy as shit, he don't do stuff like that." Jey argued.

"I mean, he is my kid, Jey. I taught him something. Bedside that goofy shit he got from you."

"Look at his hands, Apryl. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding."

"That's cause he beat his ass, Jey."

Jey waved her off turning his attention back to the principal. "Why were they fighting?"

"Apparently the boy made some unsavory comments about both Mrs. Fatus and Mrs. Reigns. Mr. Fatu attempted to settle the issue verbally but the boy kept talking."

Trinity looked around her brother in law to Milo, a small smile on her face. "I appreciate you standing up for us, Lo. But you didn't have to do all that."

"We're grown, baby. Whatever he said doesn't matter, you know it wasn't true."

"With all due respect, Mama," Koda added. "VJ mouth is reckless. If it's anything like what he said to me and Eli the other day then ion blame Milo for gettin his ass."

"Yeah. Me and Koda got his ass though. He tried Milo cause he thought my boy wasn't bout shit." Eli shrugged. Trinity turned slowly to look at her son. She wanted to tell him to be quiet but she knew all he was trying to do was help.

"What did he say to y'all, Ko?" Roman asked now starting to calm his nerves.

Koda looked at his dad then at his mama and shook his head. "I can't say."

"Tell me, Koda."

"I'd like to, Pops but I can't repeat what he said. There's women in the room," He sighed, "One of which will beat me if I tried."

Every adult in the room then turned their attention to Eli, who sat playing with his fingers oblivious to their watching. Jimmy smacked his chest lightly gaining his attention. "What's up, Dad?"

"Tell us what he said to y'all."

"But there's women and a child in the room," he smirked.

"And your ass don't care any other time. Start talking, Elijan."

"Aight, aight. Don't hit me," he demanded pointing his finger at his mama. She pushed it away and told him to talk. "He asked me and Koda if we thought our Mamas would fuck him, course we said fuck no and he got all pissy. So then he was like Mama, Auntie A and TK got dick sucking lips so I punched his ass in the stomach. He kept talking shit though. He was like 'ima fuck ya mamas and be ya step daddy' or some stupid as shit like that so Koda slapped fire from his ass. He said something else so we caught him after school and beat his ass."

"Koda Makai," Kandice sneered pinching his arm.

"What, Mama? We wasn't letting nobody talk about y'all like that. Fuck we look like? I'm glad Milo beat VJ ass. He need to learn to keep his mouth shut."

"That's enough, Koda," Roman said squeezing his shoulder. Koda sucked his teeth and sat back in his chair.

"He lucky we wasn't there or it would've been worse," Eli added with a nod.

Apryl rubbed the side of Milo's face still wearing her proud smile. Simba laid against his brother's chest, playing with the buttons on Milo's shirt. "I'm proud of you for standing up for us, baby. But maybe next time you hold back a lil bit."

"Apryl," Kandice and Trinity called.

"What? I'm just saying. I'm not condoning fighting but it was for a good reason."

"Stop talkin, A." Apryl rolled her eyes at her husband, she went back to rubbing her baby's face. They didn't have to be proud of him, she was.

The principal stood to leave the room. "I'm gonna go get their paperwork. Mr. Reigns and Mr. Eli will be suspended for eight days per policy. Even though they were helping, it's against policy and they both threw punches." Their parents nodded, they understood. "And Mr. Fatu would be suspended for ten days as well as the other young man. They will not be able to play in the game this Friday, either."

As soon as the door closed behind the principal, Eli started laughing. "Ayyye. He gave me respect. I knew we were cool."

"You shut your ass up," Jimmy chastised. "You just happy you ain't in trouble this time."

"Damn right. We bout to enjoy these days," he laughed holding his hand out to Koda. Koda went to slap his cousin's hand but he could feel both parents staring holes in the sides of his head. "Come on TK and Unc. We ain't do shit this time. We not in trouble."

"Didn't your daddy tell you to hush?" Kandice asked sternly.

"He actually told me to shut my ass up, TK. There's a difference." Eli sassed then put his hands up to block the hits he knew was coming.

"Lo, you good? You hurt?"Jey asked examining his hands.

"No, he not hurt. My baby don't have a scratch on him. That's my baby."

"He's your baby but you ain't realized his ass ain't said shit the whole time we been here, Apryl."

Apryl's smile turned into a frown. She was so happy to hear Milo finally got into a fight and won that she didn't realize he was still upset. "What's wrong, baby?" She asked softly. Milo pushed away from the table, he sat Simba in his Mama's lap before getting up. Jey asked what was wrong but Milo ignored him, making a b line for the door. His father, uncles and cousins trying to stop him as his mama, brother and aunties watched in confusion. They held him back but that didn't stop him from trying to get out the door.

"Where you tryna go, son?" Jey asked now standing in front of Milo. "Where you goin, baby?"

"To get VJ. I wasn't finished."

"You got em, cuz. I'm sure his ass regret all the shit he been sayin." Eli assured patting his back.

The men held Milo back until he stopped fighting them and laid all his weight on his father. Jey held him tightly, whispering a few things to his first born. He kept talking until Milo's breathing became regular again. Apryl watched them starting to feel bad. She had no idea he was that upset. The principal came back in with their papers. He had questions but decided against asking and just gave their papers out letting them know they could leave. Jey held onto his son as they walked through the office in front of the rest of the family. They passed VJ on their way out, all of them shocked at the damage Milo had done. All of them except Simba. Simba wiggled out of his Mama's arms to run over to VJ. He screamed then started attacking the young man. "Don't touch my brodder! My brodder!" Apryl and Trinity pulled him off, trying not to laugh. Kandice got him from them, holding Simba tightly under her arm as he kicked and screamed out the office.

[loveoaths]

*pen emoji bc im on desktop* TELL ME ABOUT UR OCS

meet ADAMAN and RAN from SEVEN OF SWORDS:

"Your apathy won't change my mind. I believe the Divine Beasts wish to aid us to the best of their abilities." Ran paused, shifting in their seat to get a better look at him. "It's not naïve to have faith, Adaman."

Laughing was cruel, but cruelty had long since become Adaman's second nature. The Sixth Divine Beast sleeps in his belly, after all; cruelty came to him as natural as breathing and fucking other men's wives and husbands.

Adaman wet his mouth with another swig. "It is when it makes you blind, when..." The words caught in his throat: When you fall in love with the light and turn doubt and darkness into something to be feared. When faith cannot coexist with doubt, it is not faith at all — it’s fear. When fear is denied, it turns into ignorance.

And Adaman couldn't stand ignorance. Not anymore.

But he couldn't stand repeating himself more. Every word he had to say on the matter was said years ago, or strung heavy in the gaps between breaths. At this point Ran either gets it or was arguing just to argue, and seeing how Adaman's seven drinks past sober and barely clinging to his will to live tonight, he could be forgiven for not feeling chatty.

“Faith. Never had it,” Adaman sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, licking the liquor from his lips, rolling his jaw in its socket and ruefully brushing fingertips over the giant bruise mottling his skin like fruit rot. He really was falling apart. It didn't matter, and maybe it should, but it doesn’t, because Adaman was tired. The scraps of his soul are stretched thin and fraying, and this hangover just might kill him.

Closing his eyes against an abrupt wave of nausea, Adaman carefully pressed his face to the dirty bar countertop, golden eyes groggily fluttering open to watch Ran's earnest expression through a misty glass of half-drank beer. The young monk looked unearthly: blue hair and sand-white teeth, wide eyed with a face like he was waiting for something Adaman could no longer remember. He looked like Gura used to when they were kids, when Adaman would touch his shoulder, or — or when Adaman would hide away in a dark place for days and refuse to speak or come out, and Gura would spend hours talking him out of some dark decision until Adaman would slowly and sullenly dissolve the acid barrier and return to the light. What was the name for that look again?

A drunken giggle bubbled past Adaman's chapped lips. Hopeful. Ran looked hopeful. Sea and sand, he’d forgotten what hope looked like.

He really was a miserable piece of shit, wasn't he. He’d be better off dead. 

Don’t say that, the Sixth Beast immediately pipes up in his head. “Shut up. Don't tell me what to do you fucking... snail,” Adaman muttered under his liquor-soaked breath, muting the strait between him and his Beast. Ran narrowed their eyes, but said nothing.

“I don’t hate you, Ran.” Adaman turned abruptly to Ran, grabbing clumsy for their knee. “I mean I do, but not how you think,” He tried to sit up. The world spun. He gagged, squeezed his eyes shut, and laid his head back down. Okay, maybe the bartender will let him sleep here tonight. He'd certainly spent enough on booze to pay for a room. “It's that — you’re alive. I hate that. I can, fuck, feel you thinking. I feel everything and I hate it. I am 'touched by God' and I would lay down in the road and let a cart wheel smash my skull in on a dare. You want a better world that can’t happen, because people like us,” His father, his mother, his extended family, him. He presses his face into his palm, the other blindly signaling the bartender for another bottle. “We won’t let you. You holy men, too; you're all pawns for us to play at power. We put gods in skin for paper. Are you hearing me? We commodified heaven. That's evil, Ran. This," he demonstrated with his hands, "Is the pinnacle of human wickedness, and my father and me and everybody like me drove humanity's donkey cart off the fucking cliff and told everybody to keep their arms and legs inside the cart like it'll make a difference. I'm sorry, Ran, but what is there to pray for?"

"The same thing we have always prayed for," Ran said, their stony brown eyes unreadable behind the shield of their tea cup. "Each other."

oh boy, this whole story is a fuckmess, but uh:

in a world where parasitic/symbiotic gods known as the divine beasts select human hosts as avatars of power, adaman is the host of the sea beast, a nudibranch-like creature:

adaman is a frighteningly brilliant, but a massive coward. he seeks pleasure to avoid his problems and deals with a lot of untreated addictions. he hates himself for being a coward and for not being morally strong enough to stand up to his family, who he fears above all else, despite being the one with a literal god inside him. he's maudlin, self-destructive, poetic, lazy, cynical as fuck, but can be so quiet and tender when he loves you. he's the dramatic one in the group.

adaman is also the disgraced prince and heir to a small but aggressive nation that used him as a human nuclear warhead for most of his life. after being forced to betray and kill his friend to prove his loyalty, he flees his despotic family and hides, avoiding the world and drinking his mind away, until our protag (the avatar of a new eighth divine beast, not featured here) seeks him out for guidance. his abilities aren't the best in battle, but he can use neurotoxins secreted from his skin to make people hallucinate illusions. if he has direct contact with you long enough he can connect to your neural system and skim memories and emotions, link your consciousness to other peoples' using himself as a mental bridge, as well as produce an amphetamine-like effect: his touch is addicting over long periods of time and can induce like a meth power surge, but prolonged contact will erode your memories and turn your brain into swiss cheese. so he's very lonely. i love him very much your honor.

ran is a traveling monk. they're a newer character, and not familiar with adaman's whole deal, but vibe-wise kim kitsuragi is a good comp.

[signoras-pet]

The Fury of a Harbinger Part 3

[Ain't nothing like a little loneliess to cheer you up huh? Lol anyways enjoy-🍔]

[P.S Rosalyne would so bitch-smack Angst Signora for being an idiot]

Signora sipped her wine as her boat made its way to Sumeru. It's been a week since her wives had left her.

The servants made sure to steer clear of the woman. They dare not speak to her unless called forth.

At least that bastard Scaramouche was taking his own transport. That meant she wouldn't have to listen to the garbage that spewed from his mouth.

For some reason she kept recollecting the day when the Tsaritsa gave her the news of her mission.

1 week ago

Rosalyne: What?! 3 months?!

Tsaritsa: Yes. I need you to actually talk with the government there. Scaramouche will also be going to ensure we complete our mission sucessfully. We can't afford any more losses due to your urge to bed women.

Rosalyne felt her anger soar at that mention of that Harbinger. But she pushed it aside because of her beautiful wifes.

Rosalyne: But what of my darlings?! I can't just leave them!

Tsaritsa: That's the issue Rosalyne! You've been distracted recently! You've been so busy playing house that you've lost sight of our goals!

Rosalyne: Distracted!? I've been completing our missions like usual! I've never-"

Tsaritsa: Very sloppily! Everything you've done these past months has been of no use to us! I've been needing to send Scaramouche to complete the missions you failed!

This conversation and his name mentioned again had her seething. Rosalyne gritted her teeth but she didn't dare bare her fangs at her Majesty. Only a fool with a death wish would do that.

Tsaritsa was glaring. Signora never used to argue. She was the perfect soldier who always followed her orders. But those women she married were ruining her. Turning her into a soft mess. Softness will not help them destroy Celestia.

Tsaritsa: You have one week until you are dispatched. I suggest you get both your priorities and affairs in order.

The Tsaritsa waved her hand away in a shooing motion. Basically telling Rosalyne to leave.

Rosalyne glared but bowed and turned on her heels to exit the throne room. She slammed the doors open, scaring the guards.

They bowed in respect as she walked past them. In her mind, she cursed the Tsaritsa to a fiery fate. She regretted having her ever becoming one of her lovers.

*flashback ends*

"M-Mistress…w-we have a-arrived" stuttered a Fatui Cicin mage as the woman kneeled. Her entire body was shaking.

Signora rolled her eyes. She hated cowards. But whatever. She placed her empty glass on the small table and got up.

"Me and the Balladeer shall head in first. You are to do nothing until I give the signal. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes!"

"Wonderful." she replied in a sarcastic tone. She made her way to the door but stopped.

"One more thing."

The Cicin mage looked up.

"If you fail me, I'll turn you and the entire platoon into nothing but a mushy pile of red snow."

The mage's eyes widened in horror and Signora slammed the door shut behind her.

On the deck, she saw that they had arrived at a little port town. From there, she would ride to the capital city and meet with Scaramouche. Then it was to negotiate the Archon into giving up their Genosis or else.

Yes…she had to follow orders…no lovers or wives…just be the perfect war machine…to remain loyal to the Tsaritsa..destroy Celestia...burn the world till nothing but ash remained...destiny...

============

Rosalyne: Rather short huh?

Yae: yep* in her lap Ei had fallen asleep while reading her light novel*

Sucrose: *looks up from her alchemy book* I-I still don't like it.

Shenhe: *sips her tea* Yes but I'm rather interested if we still see the wives pov in the next episode.

Ganyu: Hmm. Me too. I wonder if they are having a hard time adjusting home.

Hu Tao: I wanna see more desk smashing!

Everyone sweatdrops

omg Yae commissioning the light novel just to laugh at ahhdhsjsjsj icon

They all get too invested in their alter ego stories lmao. ‘What are we doing in this chapter?’ ‘Oh I remember!’

[the-firebird69]

A Bronx Tale Trailer

He began to say this to him after CA reprimanded him he said this for a boy doesn't have anything over me and he started saying it again. Face went blank, skin cold. And he said this out loud I can't do it I'm trying to do ever I can't do it I'm supposed to ever and I can't stand to be an errand because I don't know what I'm supposed to do and I have no idea what I should be doing now about this stuff Jason looked at him square in the face and said you get off those drugs sir you'll be fine. BJ ain't laugh and had it with him as well but was so angry and frustrated it was visible and he was shaking and he said to him you're nuts and that was it so BJ was sitting there alone start laughing said I know what I'm doing you know I'm here for I just don't know how I'm going to do it other people started getting mad at him cuz I can hear on video and said why don't you just shut your mouth you always talking to talk for him to hear it it's f** it says right it's you're nuts you're a nutcase you don't know anything or why you're here it's a little baby kids trying for attention well tell me you're annoying as hell get into this wicked argument out loud in the bar saying this I want you on my life everything's practically ruined you know what a man about anything you don't decide anything on your own you're sitting here copying our nephew saying you're going to kill him and take his body his torso and we're going to shoot you this will always say when you when you try and kill you we're sick and tired of this routine you're ruining everything with it you won't leave him alone and you're pathetically addicted to it no we can't figure out why because we'll do practice anything and stop you and you won't stop just because you want to torso it's not even a threat anymore we're all going to do because of you and BJ's ass back you're using it as a threat and you keep having me do it and I can't control myself and really they've been trying to keep BjA away from him as a say right away they said you're threatening him to go after us whether or not it works whether or not they help you at all but they're saying is they're not really helping they're not even helping with the thievery cuz they don't want to be caught doing it. And he screams this out it's coming up to he hasn't done it yet we have had enough of you blaming us and make it extremely mad and said who gives a s*** about your stupid group and what they want you got to do what we tell you or we kill you you freaking idiot and bja says back I don't have time for this argument we shouldn't even be arguing about it it's sacrilege and Mac came over threw him on the ground and said I'll tell you what sacrileges you piece of s*** is letting you be here in the first place. And not doing anything about your stupid torso taking a weirdo ass so he's got them on the ground and called his guys and they took him away so after that seeing people think maybe it switched back to Tommy f but they're actually trying they did fail it still bja but it opened the door for BJ's people to allowed to be shot because they're stupid and because BJ was not communicating at that point cuz he still wanted the key so stupid they are

It really worked out for me cuz I figured out again this BJ guy is setting himself up and he always does it and he doesn't to try and steal things and do things sometimes to succeeds would be nice that's a story you said some self up and get shot in the head it's a wonderful story I think that that's one reason why this is a famous movie and the other is it's played a little slow and it's not so open your face Mafia as opposed to it's talking about the interrelationship between kids and the mob and the wives and other things and not a massive amount of killings but just how things are where violence is the stable and massive violence occurs somewhat out of the blue because of what the nature is and hidden politics and it can be very hard to discern why things happen at times especially in this world but the mafia area alone can we play confusing without the changing of heads on bodies as Dan is supposed to Bja taking the stone chips. And I agree it's kind of a weird movie that shows a whole bunch of different aspects to it what what really says is this is going on all the time cuz it is it's really showing the mafia has truly is show some with children with dimension people with women all at the same time and in a comfy cozy crampton neighborhood this happened because this is Allys secret tunnels and so forth it's a very evil place the city.

Central times I hear it where some of his demons reply that it was hell and it really is and it's supposed to be able to take it and that's where they're born and all this other stuff it's not true they're hunted and they're discriminated against have a hard time staying they end up staying with foreigners who sometimes oust them. It's not right but in this movie they getting a lot of trouble there's no revenge for the mutantss here.

The show has begun and there are things happening within it this argument and fight happened on its own and it happened right after Jason was paid on the fire escape and went home on stairway same difference and Jason wasn't a poor sport yeah it was he went ahead and made bombs that night and tried to set one off on sunny because it came close to taking the key it also set it off on him because he's a condescending jerk. What we mean is he's sitting there messing everything up and it's still talking down to him and sometimes down to him and says I'm not a mess up and you can't tell but I'm leaving alone sometimes Jason doesn't and he gets pinched and sometimes he does leave it alone and it doesn't seem like it's pinched but it was sitting there monitoring you and it's not a stupid guy about some things and a lot of things is very ignorant about you don't use her name in pain so many times it hurts and show up and hurt you.

But the movie proceeds and what stage is pretty sunny so Sunny hasn't shown up yet and once he does the movie will get going and a ripper roaring speed is BJ can't stand to be in there for them a day or two

Thor Freya