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madelynraemunson · 9 months ago

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 017: Something’s Brewing

Mornings are for coffee, contemplation, and work visitations. And before you know it, things go from 0 to ‘Eleven’.

author's note: the layout of this chapter is heavily inspired by the writing style of one of my inspirations, @pinkrelish 💘 love you alyson!!

CW: fluff, boyfriend eddie, angst, drinking, smoking, profanities, physical altercations, arguing, aggressive eddie, GENERATIONAL CURSES, eddie misogynistic/ableist one-liner (our fave is also a man at the end of the day), therapist!eleven rise up 🤩🤩, divider from @attxnt

word count: 4.8k words

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

You’ll NEVER. GET. AWAY. from the sound of a woman that loves you.

♡

WEEK-IS-LONG-WEDNESDAY

Eddie doesn't sleep well when you’re not with him. Like a fish out of water, your boyfriend flops and flails around in bed, rolling over his bumpy sheets that still linger with your scent. But before he can even get comfy, it’s already time to start the day.

Son of a bitch.

“Alexa,” Eddie pleads. “Please postpone my cries until tomorrow.”

“Sorry — Eddie… I don’t understand what you meant by please postpone my life until tomorrow.”

“That too I guess.”

———

It’s awfully quiet at Hellfire.

Your friends seem to be protesting your unjust departure, keeping the essence of you alive by paying the Hellfire Girls no mind.

Meanwhile the witches who made you quit are celebrating your absence, laughing and leaning against the wall, entertaining themselves with their week-old gossip that was centered around you. Because without talking about ‘Shy Girl’, they wouldn’t be as interesting. To anyone.

"Yeah and she didn't even have the decency to give her two weeks," Kassidy scoffs. "Just up and left. How immature."

They got what they wanted. You were gone. Controlled, altered, deleted. 86’d, baby. But at what cost?

“Classic Baby Stripper. Can’t handle Hellfire’s heat.”

Now it's their turn to have the spotlight again. Just like old times. Although this time around, that attention is all negative.

But it’s attention, nonetheless.

Emmy and the other Hellfire Girls are seen squirming around, struggling to to reach for a prop that was placed high up on a shelf.

"Mike, I can't reach this thing, can you come get it for me?"

"Sorry, busy," Mike scoffs, shuffling angrily past them.

A couple of raised eyebrows. Okay then…

"Dustin, do you think you can-"

"No. Do it yourself," Dustin snaps.

Every appetizer they ordered from Argyle came out dry or burnt. Any toiletries needed from Nancy were handed over with minimal eye contact and assistance. Jonathan stopped serving them alcohol three peach schnapps ago, but of course those bitches were too busy faking their intoxication to even notice.

And despite everything, they were still appalled. Surely EDDIE wouldn’t approve of this blatant favoritism.

After putting out his cigarette, Eddie makes his way inside with the paperwork needed for your severance check, along with more checks for the club (and Wayne) that he didn’t even want to think about.

"OH EM GEE, HI EDDIE BEAR!" the girls squeal at him. It's their one last attempt to be smothered with love and affection from your boyfriend.

SLAM. The door to Ed's office swings shut.

Chrissy and Nina erupt in laughter, because even despite getting rid of you, Eddie still doesn’t give those girls the time of day.

“Eat shit, you cunts,” Nina chuckles, shaking her head in satisfaction.

While it was obvious whose side The Party is on, the Hellfire Girls are STILL left distraught and confused.

"Do you guys...” Kassidy says. “…kinda get the vibe that everyone seems a bit pissed off today?"

THANKFUL-THURSDAY

"Thank you, come again!"

You had just finished making your 20th peppermint mocha of the morning. And to think you’re going to be here ‘til close…

Being a waitress and barista are two completely different ball parks, something you wish you knew before Steve got you the job at Newby’s not too long ago.

Syrups. Sauces. Coffee beans from robusta to arabica. The just-as-caffeinated juices that would taste a lot better with alcohol in them...

And the damn milks. God forbid you use soy milk instead of almond, otherwise Susan Swayne from the Hawkins Neighborhood Watch Committee will throw a hissy fit for everyone with a satellite dish to see. And you’d much rather not want to end up going viral on Reddit — again.

Sigh.

You’re whisking away at a matcha when you realize that a group of corporate Chads were looking at you for way too long. Your paranoid eyes scan the scene, heart nearly dropping to your stomach as you lean your body into Steve’s for comfort.

"People are staring at me," you report to him at a low whisper.

Harrington is right beside you, wiping the counter down with a wet cloth after spilling some half and half on it. Your new colleague glances over at them before giving you an earnest look of reassurance.

“They probably just have a staring problem,” he says. “New pretty face at a local coffee shop? Of course they’re gonna look at you.”

“I’m almost certain I gave one of them a dance.”

“You’re also making them a coffee,” he points out. “How many people can say that about their dancers? They should be grateful.”

It makes you less stressed knowing you have a male coworker by your side, and that your job predominantly takes place in broad daylight. Your stress is further alleviated when you see Max shuffle back in through the side door after her 15-minute juul break in the parking lot. She gives you a tense nod hello after exhaling a small cloud of 'Wild Raspberry Bubblegum' into the room.

“Back from your break?” you mumble rhetorically, avoiding direct eye contact with her.

“Yeah. I am.”

You and Max got into a fight earlier this morning. It was over something stupid, your first real fight since she found out you were stripping on the low. You’re stunned when she wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind, causing you to hum in endearment. Dearest Maxine…your baby sister.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Max apologizes. "I'm not me when I go without smoking for too long."

"I forgive you," you hug her back. "Thank you for communicating your feelings. Wanna help me with this in-house order?”

��Of course.”

Since your whole lives were spent constantly losing people on such short notice, you, Max, and Billy have made it a goal to never go to bed angry. You all follow through with it 90-percent of the time, which is huge considering your dynamic. You never want to end the day on bad terms with anyone. With how the world operates nowadays, you just never know.

“You guys make coffee for non-heroes?”

And you weren’t going to start the day mad either. To your surprise, your gaze is met with Eddie’s when you turn around. Your boyfriend beams over at you with eager eyes, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he waits to order.

“EDDIE!” you exclaim.

Mister-Leather-and-Denim greets you with his signature dimpled smile. "Hi, sweetie."

You practically leap over the counter to give your man a tight squeeze. He chuckles into you, his cool rings lightly pressing against your back during your embrace.

“Eddie...” you coo. “You came to see me!”

“I sure did,” your man sings as he goes to put you down. “Ohh my goodness… Look at you with your little barista apron! Do a little spin for me.”

You spin. Eddie hoots in adoration.

“Now do a little pose.”

You pose.

“One more turn for me, baby…all the way, all the way, all the way…” he instructs. Suddenly, his palm issues you a rough smack across the ass. “BOOM! There we go. Now we’re talkin’!”

“Hey hey hey, let’s keep it PG,” Harrington scolds him. “Bob watches the cameras when he’s not here.”

“Then Bob should know Eddie’s hands are rated E for everybody,” Eddie tuts, slyly clicking his tongue at Steve. “Didn’t think I’d miss YOU now did you, Big Boy? C’MERE!”

Eddie scurries towards Steve to give him his as well. Smack. Almost like it’s muscle memory.

Max shakes her head in amusement as watches their tomfoolery unfold in front of her. She always used to think you were exaggerating their 'bromance', but now her doubts have been debunked.

“Need some caffeine to kickstart your heart today?” she asks your boyfriend.

“Not particularly, since your sister’s in front of me,” Eddie replies, chuckling at his own cheesy joke. But then he hands her a 20. “I’ll take a cold brew though. Change is yours to keep.”

“My hero, my hero,” Max hums. You watch as she opens the register to acquire the difference.

Your sister starts on Eddie’s drink while you two spend some time together. Out of habit, you fiddle with his hair and then lovingly stroke his face, all while Eddie scans the room around him, his curious fingers dancing over to the plastic tip jar next to the pastries behind you.

“How much for the trail mix?” he comments.

“Ha-ha,” you respond to him dryly.

“Baby you could make this much in tips in a second at Hellfire.”

“I’m not going back,” you respond with certainty.

Eddie’s face drops when he realizes how serious you sound. Tucking his hands back into the pockets, Mr. Tough guy elicits a rather child-like pout.

“But everybody misses you.”

“Not everybody.”

“Everybody who matters,” he corrects himself.

“That’s sweet,” you admit. “But we’ll all still hang out, y’know? I just...really wanna keep our work-life shit separate.”

“I understand, baby,” Eddie frowns. “I just miss your face is all.”

It was a shitty situation those girls put you and Eddie in. But now that you’ve had time to think about it, you don’t need Hellfire anymore. Stripping has rocket-launched you out of debt; and now that you’re comfortably on your feet, with everything you could possibly want and more, you see no need in having a hustle mentality anymore. And besides, everyone and Eddie knew that to you, Hellfire was only temporary.

“I miss you too,” you assure Eddie. “But I'm out of that cacoon now and spreading my wings. Thanks to you. We can celebrate off the clock."

“Now I like the sound of that," Eddie smirks as he pulls you into him again. He gives you another, rather tight, squeeze followed by a delicate forehead kiss. "So amazing to hear, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you.”

FACE-THE-TRUTH FRIDAY

“You’re upset.”

It’s an assumption that irritates the shit out of Eddie. Jane watches your boyfriend as he frantically ushers himself around, stress-cleaning everything at POTIONS while Jonathan takes his lunch. For as long as she's been here, it's been observed that the only thing Eddie seems to be running on today is a hot chip, and yet another cold brew from Newby’s that you had made for him.

“I’m not upset, Eleven.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m NOT,” Eddie insists. “Shy Girl and I are doing great, thank you very much.”

But the psych major doesn’t believe it one bit. Setting the pencil she was twiddling down onto her notebook, Jane narrows her eyes.

“Wanna know how I know you’re lying?”

“Hit me.”

“I never once mentioned Hargrove’s name.”

Caught. Red-handed. A sucker-punch to the ego. Eddie’s cheeks flush an exposed shade of pink, having been read to filth by the girl he and Steve used take turns babysitting when she was a little kid.

“And boys always lie,” ‘Eleven’ tuts. Jane starts to dismantle her waffle fries as if they were pieces of pull-apart bread. She then shoves the Eggo-shaped taters into her mouth. “‘s like it’s in their blood.”

“Girls lie too,” Eddie scoffs.

“But they lie better.”

Eddie pretends to dismiss it, waving Jim and Joyce’s daughter off so she could go with Mike who has probably forgotten to take inventory yet again. But when she doesn’t, and insists on playing therapist, Eddie can’t help but wonder what Jane and Wheeler could possibly be fighting about now.

“Don’t start your relationship off with a lie,” Eleven forewarns. “I can tell you really like Shy Girl. And if that’s the case, I assume you trust her enough to be honest with her.”

"I am honest with her."

“Bullshit.”

He peers back over at Jane.

Eddie’s assets — at this point — have now become a liability. And it was YOU who had to pay the price.

But he knew he still had to be realistic. There was no way in hell that he could spoil you, take you out, buy you nice things, and introduce you to new experiences if his business is in shambles. He needed his dancers.

"If you can’t get rid of those girls, you at least owe Shy Girl the truth,” Jane points out. She finds herself leaning across the bar. "And the truth is... you’re upset about her quitting.”

Eddie shrugs, choosing to gloss over how he really feels in hopes of getting a second opinion. “But I don’t know why I’d be upset. She’s doing what’s best for her.”

But Eleven clears him immediately.

“Because your abandonment issues tell you she gave up too easily,” She shoves another waffle fry into her mouth. “therefore she didn’t fight hard enough for your relationship.”

Man.

“Otherwise, you two would’ve found a compromise by now,” Eleven keeps going. “Meaning she would’ve stayed. Could’ve stayed.”

She pauses for the dramatics while Eddie uncomfortably clears his throat.

“Should’ve stayed," she finishes.

Bingo. It’s like Eleven found a way to invade Eddie’s mind somehow. Disgusted with himself, it also dawns on him that although the kids are much older now, they’re still sponges. That means they can still read into him and everyone else, even more than they could’ve when they were only 12. And this time around, there’s no filter when it happens. It’s a scary thought.

“I liked you better homeschooled.”

SHRUG-IT-OFF SATURDAY

It’s D&D night at Jeff’s house and you’re in charge of food prep. But you really don't see the point in it anymore, considering bank heist campaigns are way more interesting than the messy charcuterie board in front of you.

"I can't believe tonight will go down as the Craigslist Campaign," Max remarks. "That's where Eddie found these guys, right?"

"It's where Gareth found them," you correct her. "I hope they all get along, though. Campaigns are huge for Eddie."

You watch your boyfriend from the kitchen as he does his thing, kneeling on the wooden table as he prefaces the campaign with an introductory monologue. It all makes you swoon. Eddie is just so animated. It's in the dramatic changes in his voice depending on who he's imitating. His theatrical jazz hands. His extremely detailed, and lucid story-telling that slips so naturally off his tongue.

Eddie Munson knows how to put on a show. As a performer yourself, you can appreciate watching his universes come to life. This is a look into Eddie's mind. His world. His safe space. And he appears to be having a lot of fun with it.

Your lip curls involuntarily. A little too much fun, you think to yourself…shamefully, spitefully.

“You’re not mad at Eddie, are you?”

You look at your sister like she's crazy. Max knows you and your micro-expressions like the back of her hand. Wasn't really a hobby she picked up per se, but more of a survival tactic. It makes you second guess yourself. Surely you didn't make yourself that obvious, did you? But even then, you're not even that bitter about it. So why are you physically reluctant in giving an answer that your brain is so sure of?

“No,” you shake your head. “Why would I be mad?”

“He barely did anything to defend you from those girls,” Max points out. “You’re his girlfriend and what do they get? A slap on the wrist for all of the shit they've done? It’s unfair!”

You silently return to your edible arrangement, putting the grapes next to the cheeses and away from the deli meats so that Gareth doesn't get 'the ick'. Then you grab a wine glass to make a rose shape out of said deli meats. Max doesn't back down.

"It's okay if you're upset," she tries again.

"I'm not upset, Max."

"You're lying."

"Am not!" You quickly jump to defend Eddie. "I genuinely think, and know, that Eddie's a keep-the-peace kind of guy. Besides, Hellfire would've been in jeopardy if he fired those girls."

"Hellfire would've been in jeopardy if Billy pressed those charges."

You think about the fight more often than you would like. It was the only time you've truly seen Eddie out of character.

"But that's different. Billy pushed all the right buttons. I know Eddie. He's not as manic as people paint him out to be."

And as if it were a joke, the Universe uses this impeccable timing to launch you into a panic. Soon the sound of shattered glass and moving chairs fill the room, and when you whip your head over to the sound of the commotion, you're stunned to see your man lunging at one of the strangers that were sat at Jeff's dinner table.

"EDDIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" someone yelps.

"You wanna say that shit again?" Eddie demands. "Huh, do you?"

"What the actual fuck," Max breathes out with her hand clutched to her chest. "That came out of nowhere."

"Disrespecting my fucking friend in his own fucking house?!" he gives the guy another violent rattle. "Huh?!"

You're unsure whether to intervene or not, but the guys seem to have it managed so you just stay put in the kitchen. From what you gathered, the guy said something rude to Jeff, making fun of his class and level and using his character skin as a reason for being inferior to him. But clearly, he was still no match for the Dungeon Master.

Eddie shakes his head in pity.

"Classic fucking bard," Eddie spits. "All that talk and all that charisma, but you're still FUCKING WEAK in battle."

"Hurtful..." Dustin, whose also a bard, whimpers.

"Wasn't talking about you, Henderson," Eddie huffs.

Then who was Eddie talking about? Because according to the look on everyone's faces, his rage didn't align with the severity of the issue at hand. The guy did seem condescending and patronizing when you met him, but all he did was poke fun at Jeff. Something the Hellfire boys already do with one another.

Eddie's outburst is enough to end the campaign early, and the guys who allegedly violated Jeff that badly left without a cue. As everyone cleans up after themselves, Gareth locates all the drinks that Eddie has downed tonight and confiscates them. You remember the time Eddie told you drinking makes him feel gross. Makes him act gross too, apparently.

"Eddie, what the fuck, man? Where did that rage even come from?"

"Dude was cocky as hell," Eddie shakes his head at Gareth. "They can act stupid about it, but I see all the underlying shit. They knew what they were doing."

Suddenly your ears perk up. If you had been the one to say that, you could easily appoint those very sentences to the situation with the Hellfire Girls. The burning in your chest is undeniable now. Of course that's how shit starts to feel when it gets personal.

"No one bullies my boys and gets away with it," Eddie says. "They can get out and stay out."

Max looks back over at you, just as distraught. Then she says exactly what you were thinking but were far too afraid to admit. "Where was that energy when you were at Hellfire?"

You and Eddie go to different bathrooms to collect yourselves, both for entirely different reasons. Seeing Eddie that distressed over something so small really had you wondering if he was upset about something else as well. But then you start getting upset at yourself for not putting your concerns first. And this concern was a huge one. He can do that with his boys but not with you?

“Oh my god,” it dawns on you. “I guess I am disappointed in Eddie.”

And then, from the other side of the house, in Jeff's bathroom, it dawns on Eddie too as he sobers up.

“Oh my god. I guess I am upset with Hargrove.”

SUCKER-PUNCH SUNDAY

“You’re early, babe,” you remark.

Little did you know Eddie would’ve been at your door even earlier, had he not been rehearsing what to say in his van...and doom-scrolling the internet for the past hour.

“Just didn’t wanna be late!” is what he comes up with.

You greet him with a kiss shortly before allowing him into the home. Max is working today while Robin and Vicky were out running errands. This left you both plenty of time to hash things out if needed, both in the living room and the bedroom (if it applies).

C'mon, Hargrove, you urge yourself. Just say it.

"Listen..." you both say at once.

You both pause, glancing over at one another in surprise.

"What are you about to say?" you ask him.

"What are YOU..." he counters. "about to say?"

"You go."

"No no," he deflects. "Ladies first, I insist."

You hate that he's a gentleman sometimes. Out of the many situations where you had to rip the band-aid off, somehow this was the hardest one. After swallowing hard one last time, you finally come out and say it.

"I'm..." you begin. "I've been thinking all week. And... I guess am upset with how shit ended with Hellfire."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god, you too?"

Suddenly, the air seems breathable again. You and Eddie both sigh in relief which then extorts a chuckle out of the two of you. At last, you two seem to be on the same page about this minor discrepancy.

"I've been losing sleep over it all week."

"I've been stress-cleaning trying to think of how to come to you about it!"

"Oh my god..." Eddie laughs.

"This is crazy!" you exclaim.

"I forgive you," the two of you say simultaneously.

Your eyes widen simultaneously as well.

"Wait, what?" you echo one another again.

"What do you mean you forgive me?" you hiss. "I should be the one forgiving you, not the other way around."

"Well... you kinda left me in a crummy spot... leaving Hellfire so soon?" Eddie argues. "And you were almost everybody's favorite dancer too. Outside of Chrissy."

"You left me in a crummy spot!" you place your hands on your hips. "By refusing to fire the dancers who made my life a living hell. The bullying wouldn't stop until I quit and you just let that happen."

"Okay first of all, you chose to quit," Eddie snaps. Anger starts to simmer within you. "After I begged you time and time again not to. And you were the one who told me not to get rid of the dancers because it would've been easier to just get rid of you, the one."

"I still expected you to give them some harsh ass consequences!" you exclaim. "And what do you mean I didn't fight hard enough for you? You shouldn't have to make me fight in the first place."

"You know what I mean," Eddie huffs. "And expected? I can't read your mind, Hargrove! How was I supposed to know what to do?"

How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know? Not reassuring at all coming from a business owner and manager. And the gag is Eddie sure knew what to do last night, when something similar happened to his homeboys.

"You literally kicked those dudes out last night for bullying Jeff. At the drop of a hat. But you couldn't do with the girls the same way?"

"Those Craigslist dudes don't pay the BILLS, sweetheart," Eddie emphasizes. "Had they been responsible for my paycheck, I may have approached it differently."

"I don't care anymore!" you exclaim. "Paycheck this, paycheck that. It's the principle of it, Eddie! The girls bullied me and all you did was slap them on the wrist. I expected you to do more."

"There it is again, 'expected'! I'm a simple guy, babe. I can't read you like a puzzle! Say what's on your mind. Why do you have so much trouble speaking up?"

"I shouldn't have to hold your hand through something so simple though. Forget that I'm your girlfriend for just a minute. You should've fired them when you realized they were sabotaging another dancer. And whose to say this was their first time doing it? What if they did it with Isabelle too?"

"Don't talk about Isabelle!" Eddie snaps at you. "You don't know anything that happened with her."

"Oh so now you're defending your ex wife too? OVER ME? Your actual, current girlfriend?! It's just anyone but me at this point. WHY AM I THE LAST PRIORITY? IT'S MY RELATIONSHIP."

"IT'S MY RELATIONSHIP TOO!"

"You don't seem to be fighting for it!"

"You're one to talk! You're the one who left when it got hard."

"I don't leave when shit gets hard," you argue. "I leave when shit doesn't change. When shit becomes toxic."

You did it with your last relationship. You did it when you and Max left Billy. You did it with Hellfire when the torment wouldn't stop. And you might as well do it again with Eddie, if nothing changes.

"You know what apologies without change is?" you grumble. "It's manipulation."

"Oh, so I'm a manipulator now?!" Eddie questions. "I did EVERYTHING you told me to do, but now I'm still a manipulator?!"

"Birds of a feather," you huff angrily. "Living up to the Munson name, huh?"

"That's not fair, baby."

"It is."

"NO, IT'S NOT!" Eddie booms. "How would you feel if I told you that you were living up to the Hargrove name? By blowing shit out of proportion when it doesn't even need to be like that?"

"DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THAT?" you shout. "DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THAT? THOSE BITCHES RUINED ME, PUT SUGAR IN MY GAS TANK, AND YOU'RE ACCUSING ME OF READING TOO MUCH INTO IT?"

"Now you're just putting words in my mouth."

"I'd like to put something in your mouth, that's for sure."

"Kinky," Eddie says smartly.

"That's all your mind travels to, is sex isn't it?! No wonder you keep those sluts around."

You and Eddie continue to argue back and forth, the volume of your voices gradually getting louder. Eventually, you grow overwhelmed, and the only thing that will calm you down is a good ol' scream.

Just like a banshee, a high-pitched scream rips through the house.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

You throw a nearby plastic cup at the wall, you're so angry and overstimulated.

"The hell was that?" Eddie questions. A laugh tugs at the corner of his mouth. For a minute, he looks like Billy when he gets a reaction out of you. That really sets you off.

Now you're out for blood. Out for the very thing, every Hargrove wants: the last word. He's right. You are living up to the Hargrove name. But why does it feel so good?

Unable to control yourself, your palms land across Eddie's chest and you shove him into the wall, causing Eddie to short circuit in shock. His face drains to a pale white. Now suddenly, you're Billy. And Eddie is you, looking at you the way you would look at your brother whenever he screamed or punched a wall.

Now Eddie's angry too. As much as he wants to get you back, it's still natural for him to physically refrain himself from doing so. Eddie Munson does not hit women. Wayne raised him better than that.

So instead, he settles for a verbal jab.

“You’re crazy. What is wrong with you, Hargrove?"

It's the damned C word that no enraged woman wants to hear. But now that you've heard it, there's no turning back. You're done with him.

"Get out," you order him.

"Fine," Eddie mutters. "Fine, I'm off to Wayne's anyway!" You stomp after Eddie as he starts making his way towards your door. "He's the only fucking person who seems to understand me."

The two of you share one final look before he heads out.

You hate that it has to end this way, because the devastated demeanor in his beady, brown eyes share that same sentiment. The sorrow is unspoken, but universal. Just as the love and yearning is, even when your words display a lack thereof.

"So you're gonna leave me?" Eddie gulps. "You're gonna leave me, huh? Just like everyone else does?"

You shake your head bitterly. If there's anything about you that you love/hate, it's that you always stand on your business. "Don't worry. Plenty of other bitches in the sea for you."

The final blow to Eddie's chest. Normally Eddie would've been able to recover from that... would've been able to leave the argument untouched after hearing those words... had it not been for you, the only person he truly sees himself with. The only person he would look for in a sea of people.

"I really thought you were different, Shy Girl," Eddie shakes his head. "That's what I get for hiring someone who doesn't understand what the industry can be like."

That's what he hits you with? Just then, the sadness is replaced by resentment entirely.

"I HATE YOU, Eddie Munson," you grimace. "I never want to see your face again."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

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melanieph321 · 2 months ago

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 2/12

+18

Part 3 and Part 4 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

"So you're a...."

"Puppy mom. Jupp. That's what the ladies at the park call me."

"Well, damn." Your sister laughed. "Who would have thought?"

FaceTiming her on a Saturday morning was always as entertaining and chaotic. While you held up your new puppy for your sister to see, your niece and nephew Emmy and Vale fought each other for a chance to also get to see the dog.

"Kids kids, please." Your sister pleaded. "You're scaring the puppy."

"No, it's okay. He's still sleeping." You assured. The little pup sitrred in the palm of your hand. He had grown so big during the few weeks you've had him. By now he could run around the apartment for hours on end.

"Auntie, Y/N, when can we come and see him." Your niece Emmy asked, but was pushed out of view by her little brother.

"What's his name Auntie, Y/N. Tell us his name!"

"I asked her first." Emmy groand and soon the children were fighting again.

"Hey, hey!" You shouted from your end. "Quit it you too!"

They settled down immediately to their mother's relief. "Thank you. Now you see what I have to deal with everyday."

You beamed at your screen as all three of them appeared with their cheeks squeezed together in order to fit into the small frame.

You tilted your phone, once again showing off the sleeping puppy. The children gasped in delight.

"His name is Iker." You smiled. "And hopefully you can all come and see him during your next school break."

"Yay!" The children erupted in joyful cheers, spilling out in the kitchen and around they're mother.

"Remind me to buy you a birthday gift." She smiled.

"No. Absolutely not. You owe me nothing sis. You've practically raised me since I was a baby. I owe my life to you."

"Well, that's very kind of you to say. Although true, I really want to give you something for your birthday. It's not everyday you turn twenty-five."

"Ugh, please don't remind me."

"Remind you of what?" Ruben said, walking into the kitchen, dressed in a two piece Manchester City tracksuit.

"How old I am." You said, shifting your phone for Ruben to see that you were in a FaceTime call with your sister.

"Oh. Hi Liza. Didn't see you there."

"Hello, Ruben. I see you're ready for the big game."

Ruben approached the kitchen table where you sat, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. He leaned towards your phone, making sure that his Man City badge was visible on the screen. "Trust me Liza, City will bring it home this season once again."

"You wish." Liza snorted "Chelsea's got it together this year. I'll bet my money on that."

"Well don't bet too much of it."

"Ha ha."

Ruben moved away from the screen but just then Vale popped up. "Hi Uncle Ruben. Do you want to see my tooth." He held his mouth open with his hands, showing off his gums.

"Hi buddy." Ruben returned to the screen, his chin now resting on your shoulder. "I heard you got a visit from the tooth fairy not too long ago. Looks like she got you good, eh."

You nudged him with your elbow. Ruben chuckled, and turned to nibble at your ear.

"Just kidding buddy. You can barely tell that your tooth is missing. I promise. "

Again, your elbow found Ruben's ribcage.

"Looks like I've got to go." He groand. "Say hello to your sister for me."

"Ruben!" Emmy popped up on the screen at the mention.

"Hi sweetheart. How are you?"

"Good. Are you going to play football today?"

"Yes, I am. I was just on my way." He said, looking at you with a hand rubbing his stomach.

"Well.....then we've only got one thing to say?"

"Oh yeah, and what is that?" Ruben turned back to the screen. The children, including your sister, backed up for him to see all three of them while they chanted: "CHELSEA! CHELSEA!" And then bursting into a heartfelt laughter before hanging up the phone.

"I'm so sorry, Ruben."

"Are you?" His cheeks blossomed. "Are you really?"

"Yes." You said, but struggled to hold in your own laughter. "It's just that they're such hard core Chelsea fans. My whole family is."

"But you're not, right?"

"Right."

He leaned in and kissed your lips. "Good. I'll see you at the game."

"Bye bye papa." You held up the dog as Ruben left the kitchen. He blew you both a kiss before leaving the apartment to yourself.

Nevertheless, you didn't have time to do much before the game started. You made sure to walk Iker before you left him with a sitter a.k.a, Laleh. Who insisted on calling you while you were at The Etihad stadium, watching Man City's season opener game against Chelsea.

"So, a dog instead of a ring, eh?"

"Stop it Laleh, we've been over this."

"Over what?" She barked. Or it was Iker who barked, you couldn't tell sitting amongst the cheering fans.

"If Ruben wanted to propose to me he would have." You said. "There is no need to rush things. Besides, the two of us owning a dog is already enough commitment."

"Are you sure he sees himself as an owner and not just you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he bought you the dog as a gift. That makes you the sole owner of Iker not Ruben."

"It does?"

"Mhm. Seems like he tricked you girl."

"Stop it Laleh." You sighed. "Can't you be happy for me? Just this once?"

Again someone barked.

"No." Laleh muttered. "Not if it makes me the babysitter to a little beast. Is he even potty trained?"

"Oop, got to go girl, the game is starting." The game was actually coming to end, with Man City having butchered Chelsea with a 2-0 victory. A result that Ruben would be more than pleased with.

"You feel so good baby. So tight and so wet."

You came home that night with Ruben practically escorting you towards the bedroom. There he did unspeakable things to you while riding off the high of his team's exhilarating first victory of the season.

"I love you so much, baby. Have I told you that?"

Things slowed down towards the end, with Ruben's cock still buried deep inside of you, however, his bare hips rolled against you slowly, savoring every moment that you took him into you.

"I love you so fucking much." He groaned into the crook of your neck, bottoming out. "I want us to stay like that forever, me, buried deep inside of your pussy."

"Yes, forever." You mumbled, drunk from the spine ripping pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good baby, so...fucking good." His release came in floods, the condom he wore filling up at the tip. Your walls clench around Ruben's wide shaft and soon you too rode the hills of your back arching orgasm. The two of you then lay quiet in the night. Unmoveable, but still attached to each other beneath your hips. Ruben didn't pull out until he was completely lank, tightening a knot around the condom before throwing the rubber into the nearest bin. The two of you then cuddled each other until you fell asleep, Ruben drifting deeper into sleep than you did.

It was lucky that Ruben did not wake up when your phone vibrated against the nightstand, pulling you out of your brief slumber.

"Hello, Emanuel?" You rubbed your tired eyes at the sight of his name lighting up your screen. Emanuel was the name of your sister's husband, the father of your niece and nephew.

"Y/N....is that you?"

"Emmy?" You perked up at the sound of her sniffles. "Emmy what's wrong?"

"Daddy won't stop crying."

"What?" A sudden fear clenched your heart. "Is something wrong with your dad? Where's mom?"

"She's not coming back."

"Emmy, please. You're scaring me." You sat up. "Please, put mommy on the phone."

The escalation of your niece's cries sparked through your phone. "Daddy is crying because he says that mommy is not coming back. She's never coming back."

Part 3 and Part 4 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine

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callmewrinkles3 · 2 years ago

Text

All Too Well - DR3 x Fem!OC

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

Word Count: 12.3k

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

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

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

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

SUB: Resignation Letter

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Blake,

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

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

Kind regards,

Emma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t wait. Who’re you here with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got you something.”

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

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

“Yeah! She’s always pretty.”

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Back to the hotel?”

“You read my mind.”

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

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

“Night, Dan.”

“But I thought…”

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

“I thought we’d be sharing a room.”

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

“Not particularly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you there.”

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

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

“What’s this for?”

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

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

“Miss you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home.”

“Emmy…”

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

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

“Because I have to go back.”

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

“You want the truth, Dan? All of it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair. Love you, kiddo.”

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

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

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

“My Uber’s outside, I need to leave.”

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

“Yeah, sure.”

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

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

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

“He seems like a good guy.”

“He’s one of the best.”

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

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

Em, what’s this email about?

What’s going on?

Tell me you didn’t mean to send this

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

“See you then.”

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

It felt so, so wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny,

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

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

Emma

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

Blakey,

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

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

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

Thank you for everything.

Love,

Ems

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

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

Mike,

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

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

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

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

Love,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok. Go shower and head out.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Em? I’ve got my key, I’m coming in.”

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

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

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

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

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

Until he saw the boxes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you read any of what she wrote?”

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

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

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

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

“She told me to leave!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet. Please. Let me f—“

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

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

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

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call-me-rucy · 3 months ago

Note

Do you think Professor Layton and Sycamore are color coordinated? I suppose Descole and Layton have a cool vs warm color thing going but I wasn't sure if Sycamore's design related to Layton's design in any obvious way. I think I may be over looking something.

Hey, thanks a lot for this ask, this kind of questions are right up my alley! :D

Before diving in, a disclaimer. I'm not a character designer (although I draw as a hobby) so my info/insight on this matter is merely from the unhinged Layton fan perspective ^^

Second disclaimer: I have already a post that touches about this topic, which can be read here: link. But I believe I will be able to better articulate my thoughts on the topic this time, thanks to the question.

Basically, I believe Layton and Sycamore are indeed color coordinated! And I rise the bet: Sycamore had no right to have the same colours as Layton, but he does.

Here is an image where their palettes are compared. They’re identical!

I think it’s pretty clear they have the same colours, now let’s think, why??

Think of Luke, and Emmy, and Aurora. They all have their distinctive, separate colour patterns. Luke is designed in blue so it can even in tiny pixel distorted form be distingished from Layton at a glance. Emmy follows the same pattern. So why on earth would a character designer so worried about character differentiation give two characters the exact same colours? And more so when one of them is the very main character?! In other words: why isn’t Sycamore color coded green?? (Or white?? Or any other colour??)

And it’s not like it didn’t occur to the character designer. Look at the Decapolice cast, also by Nagano:

The answer I propose is this:

AZRAN LEGACY SPOILERS FOLLOW:

I think this is because the main character of the Professor Layton series is Hershel Layton. And that’s the character that owns the orangey-red and black pallette, the one who screams to us “main character”.

Let me explain: According to the story, the main character of the Layton series was going to be Hershel Bronev. And it is because of this original role of main character that he has the orangey-red and black pallette. And that's so fucking smart.

It would have been so easy to just give design pre-Hershel Layton as the one with the red-black pallete and give the other character another colour. But instead!! The colour goes with the role!! So when Theo takes the role of "Hershel" and "main character", he takes the colours associated with those things, too!!

And this is a bit more watsonian but Hershel gives up the name and the role but not the red-black combo cause they are no other colours for him. So Des keeps his colours (which from a doylistic perspective, he doesn't strictly have to) and Hershel uses Hershel's colours so they both use the same, and also they have the same hair colour and skin colour which totally makes sense. And the Bostonius is the same colour as the Laytonmobile. Because of course it is, they're the same thing!

So here's Desmond Sycamore, a design that copies the professor's main character energy on the basis that he was supposed to be it but is also inspired by Descole's design (see the purple buttons and the shoes) so you see him and he looks like the ultimate rival. (But also Nagano managed to despite using the same colours, make it enough visibly different?? Which is so hard??)

Meanwhile, in a darker timeline where they didn't think the designs as much:

Would still have screamed rival, yes, but it doesn't say "we're made of the same thing" as the true design does.

I think it's impressive, honestly. It's peak storytelling STRICTLY IN COLOUR CHOICES. I wish to be half as good writer/designer as whoever it was that made this call (Nagano or Hino).

And this concludes this session of infodumping. I hope you enjoyed if you stuck enough to read this far.

Thanks again for the question, sweet anon! <3

Please, everyone feel free to send more Layton inquires and/or add your own thoughts to this post. Cheers!

#professor layton and the azran legacy #azran legacy spoilers #desmond sycamore #professor layton #the return of rucy the layton infodumper #hershel layton #thanks for asking #ask #i warned yall itd be long

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ofmdrecaps · 2 months ago

Text

09/10-17/2024 Daily OFMD Recap Pt 1

Hey all. Sorry about the format, and I even said this was coming yesterday and then some crazy shit happened ONCE AGAIN because life is crazy like that. Please bare with me as I get the different parts out -- and please let me know if I missed anything major!

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Kristian Nairn; Vico Ortiz; Con O'Neill; +

Part 2 / Part 3

== David Jenkins ==

David has been at it again, making us cry even more with admiration of our beloved Captain.

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

And David reached out regarding the other trailer drop anniversary!

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

Coming up in another section for Taika in part 2, as we know whenever Taika goes to any event, someone complains about him, so David sent a very sweet reminder about him (although the second one, I'm not sure if he's calling Taika old or not lol).

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

And just in case you weren't tearing up from Chaos Dad's kind words, he has some for the fans too.

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

And just a friendly reminder that fanfiction CAN help you go places. (Lincodega now works as a writing assistent for IWTV)

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

In related but news, Rhys did a cameo for Kitten Rescue LA! They constantly get so many kittens in that they can't take care of. This is a really sweet video of him endorsing, but as mentioned below, there's a CW you should be aware of.

CW: Mention of Pet Euthanasia

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kitten Rescue LA (@kittenrescuela)

instagram

Rhys is also giving us more Substack Content previews-- this time of Bill Napier from Short Poppies <3 Wanna subscribe to his substack? Check it out here!

Source: Rhys Instagram

Rhys has announced on his substack (the non-paid content) that he'll be touring next year!

Source: Rhys' Substack

If that isn't enough Rhys for you-- good news! He'll be in Los Angelos at the Largo at the Coronet at 8 PM on October 1! Get tickets here! (Special thanks to Sara for pointing this out!)

Source: Largo LA (found via Sara aka chaoticmulaney on Twitter)

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian's book has arrived at his house! He did an unboxing video for everyone to check out! Only a week or so left til release!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

instagram

Oh, Kristian mentioned he was going to be getting a tattoo while and Portland, and hey look, it's Kristian's New Tattoo!

Source: Kristian's Instagram

Need more of Kristian? Well look no further, he's got a new DJ Appearance happening Oct 4, 2024 at the Ministry of Sound Club in London!

Source: Kristian's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

So much news for Vico! First and foremost, Vico was voted a Fan Favorite Out LGBTQ+ Actor in the Autostraddle TV Awards!

Source: AutoStraddle TV Awards

Vico also has some exciting things coming up-- they mentioned an upcoming Momentus Event on their Patreon (free version)!

Source: Vico's Patreon

Looks like Momentus is excited ...and dropping hints!

Source: Be Momuntus Twitter

Vico also had some more pics from Rose City Comic Con they wanted to share--

Source: Vico's Instagram

Vico did some amazing work for Elder Scrolls Online and is seeing some love coming down the pipeline-- they have some BTS up for it on their Patreon if you're interested!

Oh I almost forgot to mention, Vico was featured on Dimelo Season 2 Episode one!

youtube

== Con O'Neill ==

Con's new short film, "The Men" is FINALLY coming out on October 25 at the AlnwickPlayhouse! Our friends over at @adoptourcrew were kind enough to let our UK Crew know where and when they could catch it before the rest of the world! Get tickets here!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Instagram

Continued in Part 2!

#daily ofmd recap #david jenkins #rhys darby #kitten rescue la #vico ortiz #kristian nairn #beyond the thrown #ofmd #ofmd daily recap #Instagram #crew 4 life #long live ofmd #save ofmd #adopt our crew #con o'neill #chaos dad #pirate daddy

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fayes-fics · 2 years ago

Text

Today’s Lesson

Lessons Series Masterpost

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome), Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU, it's playtime with the oldest Bridgerton boys...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, threesome, d/s relationships, sub!reader, dom!Bridgertons, remote vibrator, public orgasm, slight exhibitionism, sensory deprivation (blindfolds), dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex (f to m, m to f), deepthroat, anal play (butt plugs), fingering, spanking, impact play (leather belt), bondage/frog-tie restraints, vaginal sex, squirting, anal sex. No incest.

Word Count: 8.3 k

Authors Note: Dedicated, as all Lessons fics are, to the lovely Emmy @iboopedyournose. Peeps, this is pretty full-on. Please heed the warnings, and if you don’t like them, don’t read it!! I mean it, this is NOT vanilla romantic sex. Thank you to @makaylan for the read through. For those of you willing to read, I hope you enjoy. Happy New Year! <3

You are sitting in a booth at a very upscale, atmospherically-lit restaurant and trying to act normal. Anthony is really not making it easy. You requested this, a night where he pushes your limits; teaches you new things about pleasure and submission, but if this is just the start, you may not survive the evening.

“How’s that, my girl?” He whispers duskily, leaning in, his warm lips on the shell of your ear.

“It’s just about bearable, my lord,” you reply honestly through gritted teeth, trying to keep your breathing even, fingers gripping your cocktail glass, gazing out of the window at the skyline of London twinkling beautifully.

He hums thoughtfully, then idly flicks a setting on his phone screen. You silently gasp and shift as subtly as you can on the leather bench seat as he smirks at you.

“And how about now?” His voice carries a little menace.

“My lord,” you grab the meat of his thigh under the table and breathe heavily, desperately trying not to give anything away to your fellow diners in this very fancy restaurant.

“Oh, that’s the setting we want,” he chuckles.

“Please turn it down, my lord, by god,” you beseech, fighting every reaction in your body.

“No,” he says gruffly.

“But my lord….” you protest.

“You asked for this,” he reminds, taking a bite of his dinner.

“Please…” it’s a pleading, acute sound.

“No. Now you will come in public. Silently.” His voice edged with flintiness. You also asked him to argue back if you resisted, just like he is. Regret is a bitch.

You bite your lip and fight the quaking in your body as you hurtle fast towards a climax. The remote vibe is right against your clit, buzzing insistently but silently. Intense pulses of pressure he is controlling using the app on his phone. As agreed, you are forbidden from touching yourself or moving the toy in any way.

All of your body feels on fire, and you have to bend your head so your face is unseen by the other diners as the waves of pleasure take over your body. This is the best kind of torture. Just before you break, you grab his hand on the seat and lace your fingers in his, squeezing his hand so tight and puffing breaths over your breastbone. Your core clenches hard as a shudder wracks your whole frame. You scream behind your lips clamped tightly shut, but the only audible sound emitted is a series of long needy whimpers.

He leans in and kisses your hairline before finally giving you a reprieve and turning it off. “Well done, my beautiful darling girl, that was spectacular”.

——

“How was dinner?” Benedict greets as he takes your coat, ever the chivalrous gentleman.

Anthony drove you back to his penthouse, promising you a memorable night; he wasn't lying. You are thrilled when Benedict opens the front door. Time alone with either of these brothers is wonderful, but the sessions the three of you have together are always fantastic.

“Stimulating,” Anthony replies on your behalf with a chuckle.

“I wish you were there, sir,” you sigh and twine your arms around Benedict, perhaps to make Anthony a touch jealous. “My lord was so mean,” you stick your tongue out at Anthony over your shoulder, then curl into Benedict’s embrace.

“Just a little remote vibe,” Anthony offers by way of casual explanation, waving his phone, “nothing she can’t handle.”

Benedict smiles, kissing your cheek. “Oh my girl, then you got off lightly,” he opines, grabbing the back of your head with his large hand, his lips brushing your ear. “If it were me, I’d have plugged your beautiful little bottom, too,” he murmurs. You clench at the thought.

“Will you do that for me tonight?” You whisper before you know what you’ve said, hands gripping his shirt.

Benedict growls a little. “Fuck yes, I will.”

“Thank you, sir,” you sway in his arms for a moment, then allow yourself to be pulled away by Anthony.

With a firm hand on your lower back, Anthony walks you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beauty of London at night, right on the Thames. Crowding into your rear, he pulls your head back onto his shoulder and twists your head slightly, drawing you into a possessive, exhilarating kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting.

“Hands on the glass, my girl,” he orders, pulling away, and you heed the instruction, placing your hands at shoulder height. “A little higher, stand closer,” he adds; you shift as requested.

You feel his hand run up your back to your shoulder and then trace back down to your bottom. “You seemed to enjoy coming in public earlier,” he opines. “How about I fuck you right here against the glass? Anyone could look up and see you.”

“Yes, please, my lord,” you respond eagerly. Again he pulls you back, and his lips cover yours in a deep kiss.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought, you little exhibitionist,” he smirks right next to your mouth.

His fingers find your dress zip that runs the length of the garment. Slowly he pulls it down, the sound seeming so loud in the quiet apartment. You can see Benedict observing in the reflection of the window, casually leaning on a pillar. You always like to make eye contact with the other brother if one is with you. You see him wink, and you smile demurely back in the window.

Anthony bends slightly to unhook the end of the zip and pushes the dress forward, so your back is exposed. He runs a knuckle down your spine slowly from your neck to your underwear, making all your flesh goose pimple, grabbing a handful of your bum cheek.

“You always look so fuckable, my girl, he sighs as he releases his hold. “Now bend forward. Face on the glass. Lose the dress.”

You do as told, shuffling your legs wider and resting your temple on the cool glass. The lacy underwear between your legs is on display to them; a little flash of purple silicon is visible through the pattern.

“See, brother, she’s still wearing the vibe. I took pity on her and turned it off for the ride back, but now we are here; I’m feeling a little devilish again.” Anthony idly unlocks his phone, and with a flick of a finger, it starts up again. You immediately whine and puff condensation onto the glass. It’s the lowest setting, just a tickle. “That stays on, my girl until we remove your underwear.”

You quiver quietly, snagging your lower lip with your tooth, hoping he won’t turn it up too much more, the tickling motion already making your blood run hot. Watching out of the corner of your eye, he pulls off his jacket and unloops his tie, a simple, elegant black silk one that contrasts his crisp white shirt, of which he undoes the top buttons.

“Shoes off, my girl,” he orders quietly, and you do so, pushing away your dress and shoes into a corner with your foot. “Face and hands back on the glass, please.” Again, you do as requested. “Now look down. Do you see any people down there, my girl?”

“Yes, my lord, I see a group of three men on the Thames Path,” you answer. They appear to be walking, slightly inebriated, leaning on each other. You quickly scan for others but see none.

“Are they looking up at you?” He queries, his fingertips drawing swirling patterns on your lower back that feel distractingly wonderful.

“No, my lord.”

“Bang on the glass,” he demands.

Butterflies roar in your stomach. “My lord?” you question.

“Do it, or I will,” he warns with a touch of menace.

So you use the heel of your hand to bang on the glass. The men don't look up. You try again—nothing.

“Oh, that’s right,” he barks a laugh, “I forgot this is soundproof glass. What a pity no one will hear your pretty screams either. Well, maybe they will look up anyway. It would be a shame to miss such a beautiful sight after all.”

His hand trails back up towards your neck and grab a fistful of your hair.

“On your knees,” he commands.

Oh yes. Your heartbeat spikes, and you gush all over the vibe as you pull your face away from the window and drop to kneeling, hands audibly smearing down the pristine glass as you do so, loving when he takes command like this.

“Good girl,” he compliments as his grip on your hair releases. “I’m going to blindfold you now,” he explains, and you nod—always something you’d agree to.

He takes his soft silky tie and wraps it over your eyes; your other senses instantly heighten as your vision blacks out.

“Mmm, that’s perfect,” Anthony purrs. “Now crawl to your sir. I want you to come with him in your mouth.”

“Not you, my lord?” you frown.

“No, my girl, you have spent most of the evening with me, and there will be plenty with me later.”

You inhale deeply, immediately turn around onto all fours, and begin crawling.

“Where is he, my lord? Is this the right direction?” you inquire.

“I’ll direct you with this,” his voice laces with entertainment as he turns up the vibe, and you instantly moan, knees scrambling slightly on the smooth, heated marble floor.

“That, my girl, means move forward,” he instructs.

You crawl a few paces forward, gasping slightly at the increased sensation. Suddenly you feel the buzz move to the left side of your clit only.

“Does that mean I turn left, my lord?”

“Clever girl,” he compliments lowly.

You turn to your left and begin crawling again, feeling your knees sink into a luxurious rug. You must be near the seating area now. The buzzing returns to your centre as you keep moving forward. Then suddenly, it swings to your right, and you follow. Edging your way around what you assume, from memory, is his coffee table.

“You are doing so well, my girl,” you hear Anthony call, but he seems far away. It appears he didn’t follow you; he’s merely directing you. The vibe buzzes insistently over your centre, and you crawl forwards again.

You smell Benedict’s familiar cologne before you feel his legs in front of you. He must be sitting on the sofa. You lift your hand and reach forward, connecting with one of his knees. You hear a creak as he leans forward, and then there is a hot breath over your cheek.

“Well done, my girl, you look beautiful on your hands and knees,” he whispers as you feel the vibe turn back down to its lowest setting.

“Thank you, sir,” you bask in the compliment.

“Now, what are you here to do?” his voice light and teasing.

“I’m here to do whatever you want, sir, but my lord said I should take you into my mouth.”

“And you wouldn’t want to disappoint him now, would you?”

“No sir, never.”

“Then I think you should obey,” he opines, as If he isn't the beneficiary of such actions.

He smiles unseen by you, hooking a thumb slightly into the corner of your mouth. “Are you okay with me testing your limits today?”

“Green, sir,” you respond as his thumb pulls away.

He nods and sits back, so you run your hands up his thighs, finding his fly button, flicking it open, and pulling down the zip. As is often the case when you play, he isn’t wearing underwear. You immediately feel the warmth of his skin, and when you grab his cock with your hands and gently squeeze, he gets fully hard. You always love how responsive he is. He groans as you lick a hot stripe up the underside. Pausing to tongue his frenulum, then take him into your mouth. You always enjoy sucking his cock because he is so damn vocal and alive, hands scrabbling, voice needy. Taking a deep breath, you push down onto him. And just like every time - every time - he moans your name and shifts in the chair.

“Ready?” his voice almost soft.

You tap twice on his leg, the agreed signal for yes, and suddenly both his hands are on the back of your head, pushing you down, so your nose sinks into his trimmed pubic hair. He hisses his approval, and you know his eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy just from the way he slumps back, his head likely rolling onto the back of the sofa.

Suddenly the vibe springs to life, and the jolt makes you startle as you are pinned down on him. You make a noise in surprise, and the vibration of it just encourages him, lifting his hips a little and surging deeper. Your eyes lashes catch on your blindfold as you blink away the drops watering from your eyes.

“Oh my girl, stay down,” he groans.

The vibe roars harder as he pulls you off with a harsh grip on the tie knot at the back of your head. You gulp some gasping breaths, moaning.

“Is that little vibe on?” He questions.

“Yes sir, oh god, it’s so strong,” you croak.

“Good,” he clips.

And with that, he pushes you back down, sliding deep again. Your clit pulses and begins to ache under Anthony’s remote assault.

“Turn it up more,” Benedict voices, presumably at Anthony, his hand twirling in your hair, gripping a handful.

You hear a chuckle from across the room, and then you want to scream as the vibration morphs into strong, pulsing waves. Your hips cant up against nothing as you fight the white-hot pulsing heat around your clit. All the while, you fight to breathe with your throat stretched tight around Benedict’s cock.

“Oh god, I love seeing you like this,” Benedict confesses, watching your hips move, his fingers tracing the tears down your face as they seep under your blindfold, and you drool around him. “You look so fucking beautiful, eyes watering and gyrating.”

Sometimes this is precisely what you want: to be treated a little rough and have your limits pushed. It’s like they sense you want something very primal tonight. You have your safety word and action, which you can use at any time, but you don’t want to. You want this. He pulls you up again, and you shudder deep breaths. Using the tie blindfold, he tilts your head up, and you sense him leaning forward. He chastely kisses your cheek, then calls across the room.

“Brother, bring Pandora’s Box, will you?”

Oh. The box. Pandora’s box, you know it so well. It’s a small wooden chest where the boys keep their toys. Or rather, the toys they use on you.

“What are you going to do, sir?” you ask breathily.

“You’ll see,” he says cryptically, his hand wrapping around behind you, grabbing your left butt cheek and spanking it hard. You groan and slump onto his shoulder, kissing his neck, enjoying the feel of his skin on your lips as you hear Anthony approaching to your right and the metallic sound of hinges on the box opening.

“Yep, you guessed it,” you hear Benedict chuckle, presumably as Anthony picks out an item.

“You want me to do the honours, brother?” Anthony offers.

“Well, let’s get it warmed up first, then sure,” Benedict responds, and you start to narrow down what it might be.

Benedict pulls you forward from his shoulder. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Without sight, you are unsure how much you should open, but there is no comment; then you feel cold metal placed on your tongue.

“Suckle darling, get it nice and warm,” his voice gentler, and you realise this is the little butt plug you wear. It’s small with a heart-shaped gem handle. You close your mouth around the plug, heating it with your tongue.

“Good girl,” Benedict purrs, holding your jaw, feeling your suckling action.

You hear the creak of a flipped lid behind you, presumably Anthony opening the lube.

“I think that’s good,” Benedict states, pulling it carefully from your mouth.

You assume he hands it to Anthony because the next thing you feel is Anthony pulling down your underwear, just enough to expose your bum, not removing them completely. There’s a sudden wet, cooling feeling between your bum cheeks that makes you jump a fraction and writhe.

Benedict whispers in your ear, “Are you going to be a good girl for us? Take your little plug and your little vibe?”

“Yes sir”, you respond breathily, as you feel Anthony press the warmed metal up to your opening, your breathing speeding up.

“Good; I want you to be nice and open so you’re ready for when I fuck your tight little hole,” Benedict whispers.

Oh, fuck yes. You love when Benedict talks utter filth in his lilting voice, it makes you weak in the knees and so desperate to experience what he is promising. You can’t help but moan at that and the pressure you feel as Anthony slowly pushes against your opening.

“That’s it, my girl; relax, let it in,” Anthony's voice soothes, rubbing your bum cheek softly.

You take a deep calming breath and relax all your core muscles. Feeling blunt pressure, the plug inches in, and you groan a little getting used to the stretch.

“Just a little more, and you’re done, my girl,” Anthony encourages.

With sudden relief, the pressure changes, and you feel your body close up around the narrow stalk. Inside there is an insistent stretch. It feels delicious, as it always does, so different but stimulating.

“I love the sight of this little gem nestling between your bum cheeks,” Anthony confesses, grabbing and squeezing both.

You groan and sway your hips back towards him. You want him to pull down your knickers and fuck you right now. Instead, he slowly pushes your knickers back into place. His hands crest your hips and pull you back roughly towards him, his clothed cock sliding along the cleft of your asscheeks.

“Why don’t you fuck me, my lord?” you query over your shoulder, even though the blindfold stops you from seeing him.

The vibe roars back to life on your clit, and you cry out.

“Well, my needy girl, because I want you utterly mindless before I fuck you,” Anthony replies. “Also, I don’t believe you have done what we requested of you yet. You are supposed to come sucking his cock; I do believe, so do it,” his voice talking a harsh clipped edge.

“Yes, my lord,” you respond meekly, turning back to Benedict’s lap and sinking your mouth back onto him.

Anthony turns the vibe up to full tilt, and you moan hard, causing Benedicts to do the same as you vibrate around him. You won't last now you are plugged, and Anthony’s hands are on you, caressing your skin, sliding his hard cock over your tailbone.

“I think what my girl needs is just a little bit of….” Anthony begins, and then he spanks your left bum cheek hard.

It's all too much sensation, his spanking, Benedict's cock, the vibe, the plug - all while you are blindfolded. You are drooling all over Benedict, uncaring about what you sound or look like as you are rapidly spiralling, your head spinning.

Then there is a second spank from Anthony on your right cheek this time, and you are cresting hard, convulsing around the plug, flooding your knickers, screaming on Benedict, pushing back onto Anthony. Hundreds of stars behind your blindfolded eyes and electricity humming in all your bones.

Benedict wrenches you off him suddenly, panting hard, squeezing the base of his cock to stave off his response. “Fucking hell, I almost came at that,” he blurts out, shuddering.

“That was something truly special, my girl,” Anthony gloats, dialling back the vibe as you gasp for air, your whole body fizzing.

As you recover, you lay your head in Benedict's lap and feel their hands caressing your skin. After a few seconds, Anthony tugs down your underwear.

“I think that's enough of the vibe for one night,” Anthony says soothingly. “Besides, I want to see this beautiful jewel right here,” he adds, tugging on your plug, not enough to remove it, just enough you can feel the movement, and you groan as he finishes removing your underwear.

“How adventurous are you feeling tonight,” Anthony asks, leaning over your back and breathing into your ear.

“Very,” you answer honestly.

“How would you feel about cuffs on your ankles and wrists, my girl?”

You inhale sharply. “Green.”

“Hmm, good and what about if they were holding you in position?” he continues, pulling you up off Benedict's lap and nuzzling your neck.

“Green,” you answer, anticipation burning.

“Good girl,” he flatters, stroking your hair with delicate fingers as you rest on his shoulder, “just what we wanted to hear. Come with me.”

He sweetly helps you to your feet, your legs shaky from your orgasm. With his arms wrapped firmly around you, he walks you down a hallway; his body solid as it flexes around you. He leads you to his bedroom if your mental map serves you correctly. The blindfold is still blocking all sight you may have.

“Is this your bedroom, my lord?” you guess as he stops; you are sure his spare rooms are to the right, not the left.

“Well remembered, my girl”, he sounds impressed. “I may have purchased some fun things for our playtime,” you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Tell me more, my lord,” you bite your lip, knowing it always makes him kiss you.

Sure enough, his thumb plucks your lip down from your tooth, and he sucks it into his mouth, pulling you into his arms and walking you backwards as he claims your mouth with a deep kiss. He pulls away just as your calves bump into the bed and spins you in his arms, so you are facing it now.

“Crawl onto the bed, my girl. Make sure your back is arched nice and low. I want to see that jewel as you do it,” he orders, his hand resting on the top of your cheek.

You reach forward and climb on all fours tilting your pelvis up, your back curved down.

“Fuck yes, that’s it,” he growls, and there is a light spank on your left cheek before you’ve moved a knee forward. You groan, wanting more, a harder spank that makes your skin tingle.

“Harder, please, my lord,” you sway back, pushing into his crotch, rubbing shamelessly on him like a cat in heat.

“Are you asking for a spanking?” He teases thickly.

“Yes, please, my lord,” you reply.

He obliges a swift stinging smack on your right cheek this time, which morphs into something lingering and tingly as he kneads the flesh he spanked.

“Crawl a little further for me,” he lectures.

You do so, each movement slow, ensuring you sway your hips and display yourself as much as possible, loving when his voice gets low and scratchy from watching you move for him.

“Stop right there,” he voices suddenly. “Put your face on the mattress; keep that bottom up.”

You comply, knowing how lewd you must look. Just as you hear another set of footsteps enter the room.

“Fuck, that looks amazing,” Benedict stutters.

“Ah, good of you to join us, brother,” Anthony comments, “I wouldn’t want you to miss that sort of view.”

You hear a creak of leather as you assume Benedict sits in the chair over to the left near the floor-to-ceiling window; it appears he is here to observe for now.

“The problem is, my girl, your skin is just begging to be marked. Look at all this beautiful flesh,” Anthony sighs, spanking the top of your thigh so hard you squeak. “I don't think my hands are enough…” he trails off, and you hear the metallic tink of his belt buckle unfastening. Your belly roars to life with butterflies. You wondered why he was wearing a belt tonight; his trousers are custom-made; it's a superfluous item of clothing that he rarely needs or wears. Now you know.

“Green,” you mutter quietly before even being asked.

“Oh, my clever, clever girl,” Anthony exhales, running a hand over your other thigh and spanking there, too, for good measure. You squeak again, the sting radiating between your legs, right to your throbbing clit.

You hear the sound of leather stretching as he winds the belt around his hand, and you take a staccato breath, the anticipation burning low in your gut. Not being able to see any movement, to anticipate the first strike just heightens the heat and awareness prickling over your skin.

You gasp as he trails the leather belt end over your toes, the soles of your feet, and then the back of your calves. Then it's gone, and you hear a tiny noise in the air before the belt thwacks lightly against the back of your left thigh, a gentle sting.

You hiss as you feel a little colour bloom there.

“What do you say?” he commands briskly, “for making your skin look so pretty like a picture?”

“Thank you, my lord,” you stutter out.

“That's right,” he preens. “You need more, don't you?”

“Yes, my lord, please,” you plead, your voice light and thready like chiffon.

As you answer, there is a blow to the back of your other thigh, the same strength but a different angle, like he is painting an abstract swath onto the canvas that is your flesh. You moan loudly and flex your hips. Anthony loops the belt between his hands and pulls it taunt over the cleft of your ass, running up and down in a swift motion, making it tug against the plug in your bottom, putting pressure on the walls of your channel.

“Fuck, my lord,” you stutter as he chuckles richly.

Then there is a stinging blow to the globe of your ass, and you cry out, much stronger than the stroke on the back of your thigh. It stings so well, the pleasurable pain a lightning rod to your clit, throbbing and needy. He can likely see it, see you leaking down your thigh, but he pays it no heed.

Instead, there is another strike on your other cheek and your whole body jerks, swaying slightly and widening your knees as you try to keep your ass up high and your face down low, just as he wants.

“Well done, my girl,” he praises, and you hear the belt fall to the floor as you breathe through the sting. A warm hand lands on the middle of your back, giving soothing strokes for a few moments as you recover.

“How would you feel about being harnessed just like this?” Anthony enquires smoothly after a minute or so.

“Green,” you respond after briefly considering the question.

“Good,” he says, the hand running down your spine softly. “I purchased a beautiful leather restraint set”. His fingers trace over the sensitive skin where the back of your thighs meets your bottom. “They are going to wrap around your right here.” He moves your hands backwards, holding them on the side of your thighs. “Your hands will be here,” he says quietly, “and your feet…” he picks them up, moving them, almost but not quite flush with your bum cheeks, “…will be like this.”

In this position, your knees and face are your only leverage points of balance.

“It’s called a frog tie, and I just think you would look so beautiful in it, my girl,” he explains, caressing your calf and kissing your lower back.

“Green, my lord”, you agree, excited to be restrained in such an open manner as he lowers your feet back down for balance.

“Thank you” his tone is reverential. He moves up to stroke your hair affectionately, sitting on the bed near your head. “Thank you for this, my darling girl. I promise it will be wonderful for you.”

“I know, my lord, I trust you,” you answer.

“Your trust is the most beautiful gift you can give me,” he assures, his voice thick with emotion.

You just smile and lean into his gentle caresses as you feel a dip in the bed behind you as Benedict kneels on the mattress and strokes the back of your thighs.

“Look at these soaked thighs; I think this pussy needs some attention,” Benedict declares.

“Please,” your response is needy, desperate to alleviate the throbbing.

Anthony pulls up your blindfold a little, and you blink, adjusting to the low light in the room. You twist your head to the side to observe him as he opens his shirt buttons. His motions are a striptease, and you nod as enthusiastically as you can with your head down on the bed, and he smiles wolfishly and shucks his shirt.

Benedict chuckles at your exchange, then his hands grab your asscheeks, dives face-first into your cunt, greedily lapping at your juices. You cry out and clench around the plug in your bottom.

“Oh, I saw that little gem move,” Benedict growls, muffled into your flesh. “I hope it’s getting you nice and open ready for me,” he warns, filthy.

“Yes, sir,” you answer breathily.

“Good girl,” he replies and spanks your bottom hard, diving his tongue back inside you.

You squeal at the sensation on your tender bum and grind your core shamelessly back onto Benedict’s face as you watch Anthony pull off his trousers, also without underwear, his magnificent cock bobbing as he stands back up straight. You salivate for it. He climbs onto the bed and settles against the headboard, legs on either side of you, leaning forward and pulling your head up off the bed, kissing your lips.

“Do you want to come with my cock in your mouth, too, darling?” He whispers as he eases the blindfold back down over your eyes.

“Yes, please, my lord,” you lean forward and rub your face in his chest hair, your sense of touch heightening as you are robbed of your sight again.

“Brother give this greedy beautiful girl her third orgasm of the night, please,” Anthony orders casually.

“It would be my honour and pleasure,” Benedict responds, the five o clock shadow on his chin rasping your clit as he talks. You moan at the sensation.

“But what about my restraints, my lord?” you ask, kissing Anthony’s right nipple as Benedict drags his tongue lower, lapping your clit, and making you groan.

“I thought for later, my girl,” Anthony remarks, “do you want to be in them now?” He queries, his voice impressed.

“Yes, please,” you whisper into his sternum, almost ashamed of how excited you are by the prospect; the freedom of giving up all control is such an intoxicating thought—panting now at Benedict’s sensual assault.

“Do you really want me to interrupt whatever is making you pull that face?” Anthony questions, bemused, cupping your jaw and kissing your cheek. You groan and drop your head down out of his grip as Benedict rubs the edge of his teeth over your clitoral hood.

“K… fine… after orgasm,” you stutter, barely forming a sentence. Anthony chuckles above you and shuffles upwards slightly. You feel the heat of his cock close by, so you nuzzle with your face until it catches your chin, and you open your mouth and take him in, suckling just the head lightly as he moans in delight; it sounds like he grabs the metal bar on his headboard, his signet ring tinking against it.

Benedict pushes a hand on your lower back, making your back arch further, and he sucks your swollen clit wholly into his mouth and bites down. Your curse is muffled around Anthony’s cock, the shock causing you to slide down further, him bumping the back of your mouth. All three of you groan simultaneously, you being bookended by these beautiful boys.

Anthony grabs the back of your head, holding you down as you feel the pressure. At that moment, Benedict intentionally bites your nub again while tugging gently on the plug in your bum. You scream around Anthony, and he moans so deeply you think he might come.

“Oh my fucking god,” Anthony gusts, the hand on your head weighty, “stay down; you feel like heaven; I wanna fuck you so hard… so fucking hard right now,” he mumbles through gritted teeth.

Benedict is keeping you right on edge with his teeth and tongue. You are just making a long low whine now but desperately need air, your lungs burning. Anthony wrenches you up off him, and you take wracking, deep breaths, fighting for oxygen and groaning at the white-hot pleasure around your clit. Benedict knows you are dancing on the precipice, thighs twitching.

Anthony pushes you back onto his leaking cock, testing your breathing limits. “Stay down until you come, my girl,” he warns. You feel lightheaded but, more than anything, want to obey.

Without warning, Benedict pumps three long fingers inside you and rumbles against your clit between his lips as he does so. The low vibration tips you over into a shuddering, screaming orgasm, writhing and pushing back onto his face as he puts pressure on your plug as you clench and release in waves, holding it firm.

Anthony is groaning hard above you, and he twitches in your mouth. “Fuck, you are a wonder, my girl,” he babbles.

You will do anything to please him, so while you come down from your intense high, you stay on his cock, leaking juices on Benedict’s face as he places gentle kisses on your inner thighs.

“That she is,” Benedict concurs, running his tongue up your slit obscenely and over the gem nestling between your cheeks before pulling upright and spanking you hard, rubbing his cock over your tailbone.

Anthony pulls you up by grabbing your hair. “Well done, my girl. If you stayed down any longer, I would have come, and we both know where we want that don’t we?”

“Inside me?” you pipe up between breaths, tilting forward to rest your head on his stomach.

“That’s right,” he says, stroking your hair again.

Benedict hops off the bed and retrieves something from across the room.

“Are you ready to be restrained now, our girl?” he questions softly.

“Green sir,” you enthuse over your left shoulder; even though you can’t see him, the instinct to turn towards the person speaking to you still lingers.

Anthony shifts around you and gets off the bed to your right. “I’ll take this side, brother. Ass up higher, my girl; show me that beautiful gem,” he tutors as you shuffle into position. “That’s it perfect,” he praises.

You breathe slowly, tamping down the excitement crawling over your skin as you feel the soft leather wrapping around your upper thighs as they both adjust the buckles.

“It should be snug but not hurt,” Anthony counsels, “how’s that fit?”

“It’s good, my lord,” you confirm.

“Wonderful. Third notch brother,” he advises Benedict as you feel the identical fit around your left thigh.

They cuff both ankles simultaneously, pulling your legs up and attaching them via a clip to the back of your thigh restraint. Something calming and arousing settles into your gut once you are entirely restricted in moving your lower half, your ankles tethered to the back of your thighs, your knees being your only leverage point.

“My girl, give me your colour, please,” Anthony says sincerely. “Try to wriggle; confirm you feel comfortable.”

You do as advised and feel nothing but excitement. “Green, my lord.”

They round the bed on either side, each taking a hand and wrapping a soft cuff around your wrists. There is a loop to attach them to the side of your thighs, but they don’t do so.

“Let’s see how you go like this for now,” Anthony intones, rubbing a soothing pattern down your spine. “If you like it, we’ll clip your wrists in too.”

“Green, my lord,” you respond clearly, “I’m sure I will.”

He huffs an amused noise and walks to the end of the bed, climbing to kneel behind you, he grasps your hips, and you lean down onto your forearms. Assuming a position you know he likes.

“Oh, good girl,” he clucks, “are you ready to be fucked, darling?”

“Please,” you implore.

“I do so love it when you are needy,” he exhales, “And I love this being here. Your bottom looks so pretty” he spins the plug just a fraction which has you moaning. “Now you’ve already come three times tonight, you greedy girl. So guess what? You’re not allowed to come again until you have my permission, do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” you confirm, your words muffled into the bedding.

“Widen those knees, my girl. Let’s really see those restraints working,” he taps your thigh, and you do as told.

You feel his tip nudge you and smile, so aching and ready to be filled. He surges forward in one swift movement burying himself deep within you, holding his thumb over your plug as your body tries to push it out with the force of his entry. You moan into the sheets, feeling so overwhelmed and so filled.

“Oh god, this is perfect,” he growls, “I can feel that plug through your wall, darling girl. God, it’s making you so tight. I’m going to have to go slow,” he says through gritted teeth, pulling back slowly, then pushing back in with a groan. “Brother, you must try this; she feels exquisite.”

You feel a dip in the bed next to your shoulder as Benedict sits down. “I will,” he responds with a chuckle. Then you feel him lay down perpendicular in front of you, his head near yours.

“Hello darling girl,” he murmurs, “I haven’t even gotten to kiss you yet tonight, have I?”

“No sir,” your response is uneven as Anthony retreats and then surges into you.

“Then let’s remedy that right away,” he pulls you down into a searing kiss as Anthony sets a slow, dragging rhythm.

“Are you enjoying yourself tonight?” Benedict’s tone is gentle as he caresses your face with warm fingertips.

“Yes, sir,” you enthuse before he kisses you again.

“Do you like your restraints?” you can tell from his tone that he is smirking, his lips warm on your face.

“Yes, I love being like this,” you admit.

“Good. One day,” he sighs, almost wistful, “I’m going to tie you down spreadeagled and fuck you so hard you will be begging me to keep you there.”

You love when he talks utter filth to you, especially while his brother takes you so hard. You can’t see it, but you know Benedict is smiling devilishly from the tone in his voice.

“I’ll crop your beautiful skin—it should always be flecked with little marks from discipline. You are such a little brat who needs so much taming.” He rounds a hand into your hair as he speaks, tugging your scalp and making you rasp. “I want you to wear clamps. Beautiful jewelled clamps to match your lovely little plug. With a chain between them, so I can pull on it, make your nipples ache for my tongue to soothe them.”

You groan as he talks, wanting everything he is promising. Anthony’s cock spearing you open over and over as you picture precisely what Benedict is saying. He moves so his lips are on the shell of your ear, his fingers feathering along the tie that is your blindfold.

“But most of all, perhaps I want you to wear a collar, my collar. I want you to belong to me.” His voice is so quiet you know Anthony can't hear. “I will share with my brother, but you should know I don't always want to. I'm a greedy man, and sometimes I want you all to myself. Part of me wants to whisk you away and lock you in a luxury tower somewhere secret and far away. Make you submit to every single one of my fantasies.”

You are breathless, knowing you would let him and probably beg him for more. And if Anthony offered you the same thing, you would in a heartbeat as well. You want them both so much.

“Restrain my hands, sir,” you pant in response. You want to feel helpless.

“Right now?” he checks, his breathing unevenly.

“Please. Yes. Green.”

You feel the bed move as Benedict gets up and tilts your shoulders to the mattress before grabbing your left arm and locking it in place.

“She asked for this, brother,” Benedict assures, and Anthony growls when he realises what you asked for, his pace never wavering as he plunges into you.

You hear Benedict round the bed and pull back your right arm, looping the cuff into the ring at your thigh.

Now you are entirely frog-tied at their mercy.

Unable to do much but shuffle and tilt over. The fire that rages in your belly notches lower and licks at your core, feeling an insistent throb where Anthony pounds into you. You know you don't have permission to come yet, but something about being so bound is rocketing you towards another climax. You just submit to the sensation of Anthony, his hands gripping your hipbones insistently, the plug in your bottom jerking with each surge into your body.

“Anthony,” you murmur his actual name into the sheets, flexing your hips slightly, testing the bounds of your restraints.

“Fuck darling girl,” he gasps, “I'm going to come.”

“Do it please, please, my lord,” you urge, desperate to see him behind your blindfold but even more frantic to feel him come apart inside you.

“Are you going to come with me, my girl?” his voice questioning.

“Do I have your permission, my lord?”

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he compliments, grabbing the meat of your bottom before returning to grasp your hip, “yes, yes you do.”

Suddenly, an arm curls under you and strong fingers are at your clit. But you realise they cannot be Anthony’s as both his hands are branding a bruising imprint onto the crest of your hipbones.

Then that sinful voice is back by your ear. Benedict. “Come on his cock, do as you are told.”

You can only obey, the thrill of being restrained and both of their attentions hurtling you fast towards another high. As you break, you realise this one is a gentler wave. It crests over your body; you moan and writhe, feeling Anthony piston in and out a few times, then jerk hard, holding still, slumping over and biting your shoulder as he empties deep inside you with a wracking groan. You bear his weight the best you can, your leather restraints creaking as it pushes your knees out wider, sinking further into the mattress. He pants hard as he slowly pulls out and takes his weight off you.

“Fucking hell,” he gusts, “It's never been that intense. Brother, you have to get on that. Right now,” Anthony advises sagely, and you feel him dismount the bed and stumble away to catch his breath.

Benedict's fingers are still on your clit as he rounds behind you. “Are you ready for me, darling girl?” his voice a low dangerous vibration. There will only be a few heartbeats between them being inside you, and the thought of it makes you burn hot.

“Yes,” you croak quietly.

He surges into your still-fluttering cunt, and you both groan loudly. He stills, feeling the ripples surrounding his cock and breathing heavily with each pulse.

“I thought you were going to fuck my ass, sir,” you goad.

He huffs a laugh. “Oh, I will,” the glittering promise already making your body bow.

Benedict does not move. He just holds you on him, buried so deep. He always feels different to Anthony in a way you can’t articulate, no less intoxicating, though. Then you feel his fingers wrap around the heart-shaped plug, and your breath catches. Your teeth sink into the sheets as he twirls it around in a slow circle.

“Now I think it's time this little plug came out; you should be nice and ready for me now,” his tone dusky.

You moan as his knuckles slide against the skin around your hole and hook under the plug handle, pulling up and out slowly but steadily. You huff as the plug reaches its widest part slipping out of you. The stretch is entirely pleasant, and your core pulses around him. Benedict groans and tosses the toy aside onto the floor as you pant lightly and feel a cold slide of liquid between your cheeks as he applies more lube. You hold your breath as he slowly pulls out of your cunt, and there is a creak of the restraints as he rearranges your body and himself, lining up.

“Colour,” he demands.

“Green, sir,” you answer instantly.

And then it begins. The pressure is intense as the blunt head of his cock pushes insistently at your tight entrance.

“Relax, my girl,” he tutors.

You take a deep calming breath in. As you exhale, Benedict slips into your body. You groan loud and long, the stretch and feeling of fullness back there so different but just as exhilarating. He stutters and swears, pausing to adjust his stance before driving forward a little more, spearing deeper. Taking your upper body weight on your chin makes your jaw ache, so you swap the weight to your forehead and pant, wanting more than anything to be entirely at his command, to enter that mental space where your body submits, and your mind floats.

“Good girl, you are such a good girl,” Anthony praises as his warm hand runs up your spine and into your hair, grabbing and pulling tight. “Breathe.”

You do as Anthony commands, breathing deep and slow as Benedict slips further inside you.

“You feel so good,” Benedict praises as he sinks to his root with a grunt, letting you adjust to the sensation of being so viscerally invaded. “How do you feel?”

“So very full,” you puff into the sheets, feeling the pull of your restraints as he grabs your butt cheeks and spanks them hard.

You squeal and that makes him chuckle.

“Good, I don't plan to go slow, so hold on, sweet girl,” he warns.

“To what, sir?” you sass, waving the hands cuffed to your thighs.

He chuckles deeply. “Brat,” he lobbies affectionately.

As Benedict draws back, Anthony releases your hair, and you sense him slipping under you. With a slight tilt of your body, he slides between you and the mattress so your head is resting on his warm fuzzy chest, his legs on either side of your restraints.

“Hello, my lord,” you greet him warmly, tilting your face up, hoping for a kiss.

“Hello, my girl; I think I might know just what you need to make this extra special,” he offers huskily and as he kisses you, his fingers snag around your nipples, pulling harshly as Benedict pushes back into your hole with a loud groan.

The feeling of your ass being so filled and your nipples aching has you crying out as Benedict starts a rocking rhythm into you. You pant both my lord and sir, part of you wanting to call their real names. Anthony’s fingers expertly twirl on your sensitive nubs, and you feel drunk on the sensation Benedict is giving you.

“Spank her again, brother,” Anthony calls over your shoulder.

Benedict obliges just as Anthony slides his fingers inside your achingly wet cunt. You scream at the feeling of having both of them inside you. Anthony’s fingers expertly locate the spot that drives you crazy and rapidly hit it with a robust and intense jab. You curse loudly and Benedict almost howls as you convulse strongly, transferring through your walls to grip around him. You groan again as Anthony’s fingers press harder, eliciting a carnal squelching noise from your core. You are powerless to stop him, having no leverage tied up as you are. Also, you don't want him to stop. Not in the slightest.

“I figure the least I can do is make her squirt for you, brother,” Anthony sniggers, almost fighting to be heard over your moaning that has become a constant noise as he rocks hard and fast onto your G-spot.

“My lord,” you sob, dangling again so soon to mindless while Benedict ploughs into you.

The pressure building is intense, and your restraints creak as you flex involuntarily at the strong clenching feelings you fight, your hands balling helplessly at your hips, fingernails sinking into the heel or your own palms. Anthony takes your body somewhere primitive and instinctual, where your mind switches off, and you are rooted only in the tide of sensation washing over you.

The pressure builds to a breaking point until you are open-mouthed screaming as you feel a massive, almost forbidden release. Your whole frame shudders as you feel yourself soaking the bed, your legs, Anthony’s hand and Benedict's thighs as Anthony makes victorious noises. Benedict curses, and with a few deep growling surges, you feel him coming deep in your bottom, a warmth blooming inside, not as sensitive as your pussy but a filling sensation nonetheless.

The three of you curse almost in unison. Your legs feel shaky and almost cramping as Anthony slides from under you and quickly unhooks your hands and feet from your restraints. You collapse face-first onto the mattress, Benedict still buried inside you. He grunts and follows you down, covering you, still recovering himself, withdrawing from your body gradually.

After a few moments, when they have gently cleansed your body and their own, you are lying on the bed with the boys on either side of you. They run delicate hands over your skin in soothing motions, lingering kisses on your neck as you recover from the intensity of the session.

“Same time tomorrow, boys?” you tease quietly, stifling a yawn. They both chuckle, nuzzling your neck as you feel the drowsiness hit you, and you drift off in their embrace. Today’s lesson proved a very enlightening one.

Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @queenofmean14

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 7 months ago

Text

04/21/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Leslie Jones; Nat Torres; SaveOFMDCrew - Let's Get OFMD an Emmy; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes; Daily Darby/ Tonight's Taika

== Rhys Darby / Cryptid Factor ==

So our fabulous Captain has shared a video of him ghost hunting in a haunted hotel! The only way to access it (as you can see below) is to sign up for the $10 Cryptid Factor Patreon. Link here. It's cute and funny, and you get access to all of the other Cryptid Factor vids and a lot of other cool perks.

== Taika Waititi ==

Another pic of Taika From Sydney Trip for Rita's launch of TypeBea

Img Src: @fuckyeahworldoftaika

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie spotted out on 4/20!

Img Src: @comedianpinkfoxx IG

== Nat Torres ==

Just a quick couple pics of Nat in hats!

Img Src: Nat Torres IG

== Save OFMD Crew ==

Today SOFMD crew is working on more engagement to get OFMD an Emmy! Artwork by @erostheartist

Feel free to reach out to SOFMD crew on any of the platforms and share your favorite OFMD Season 2 Costumes! Save OFMD Crew Linktr.ee

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

And who could forget the guy who pointed out that Blackbeard was out on a treasure hunt! Annnnd immediately got threatened! Thank you @melvisik for highlighting Enrique Renaldo! He really took one for the team there!

== Colouring Pages ==

More colouring pages from the ever-lovely @patchworkpiratebear! Please click the images below to go to their tumblr pages!

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Here we are again-- coming up on Monday. I really hope you all got a chance to get some rest this weekend, a chance to be creative, a chance to heal up a bit for the coming week. Refueling is incredibly important in keeping the ever wonderful you up and running.

Tonight I wanted to get a little sappy and tell you just how amazing you are. Seriously, have you thought lately about just how much went into where are you are today? Millions of years of evolution, thousands of years of civilization for your parents to meet, have you and then so many years of growing, learning, living, and here you are the way you are today. The amount of complex interactions that had to occur to make you are impossible to ever quantify.

You are a unique, beautiful, glorious creature, and when you were born, you had infinite potential for the coming years. You were wonderful, and sweet, and you meant so much to the world around you.

Today, you are both the same, and a different person as you were then. You are different in experience, and growth, but you are still the same beautiful, fantastic, full of potential creature you were the moment you breathed air for the first time. That hasn't changed.

You were worthy of love then, and you're worthy of love now.

You were beautiful then, and you may look different, but you're even more beautiful now.

Your potential was infinite back then, and guess what? It's still infinite. There is so much to do in this life, and you WILL get where you want to be one day (if you're not already there).

You also mean so much to the world around you. The players may have changed, or stayed the same, but you still mean the world to those who love you, whether they say it or not.

You are a tiny shining speck in the grand scheme of time on this planet, and yet, you make such an impact on every other speck you encounter, and just like the millions of years before you, you are instrumental in the backstory of someone yet to come.

You don't have to have kids, to make that kind of an impact (although if you do that's it's own path) even just interacting with others, giving kindness where there wasn't any before can cascade and make a world of difference, which then spreads in it's own infinite direction to the future.

Your life matters. Your love matters. You matter.

Rest well lovelies, sweet dreams.

Img Src: @/TheGoodQuote's IG

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's theme is "Out of Context"

Gifs courtesy of @thunderwingdoomslayer and @mermaidstede!

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby #save ofmd #taika waititi #long live ofmd #adopt our crew #save ofmd crew #leslie jones #nat torres #the cryptid factor #rhys darby faction

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emmyrosee · 8 months ago

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suna and 11? CONGRATS EMMY!!!!

THANK YOU ANGEL FACE 🥹🩷

anonymous said 11. Suna and maybe u can tie it with ur recent post and possibly make them break up??? ❤️

11 with Suna… Argument 💔

There’s a deep rooted insecurity suna rintaro holds.

It’s not one he talks about often, nor do you bring it up, because it’s dumb, it’s a stupid little thing that you both know doesn’t make a difference in your relationship, yet Rintaro always finds himself harping and beating himself up over it.

Right now is no exception, as you stand across from him with your hands scrubbing your face, clearly exhausted by the fight.

“I don’t think of Osamu like that!”

“You sure had a hell of a time showing it!”

You had a crush on Osamu first.

Way back when rintaro wasn’t even into you, he couldn’t have known you from some random soul, you had feelings for osamu, but you never acted on them because you assumed he never liked you back- not to mention his insane fan girls. You kept your distance until you moved on; only to meet Rintaro in college, recognizing each other about three weeks in, where your feelings for him started to bloom.

You’d let it slip to him once when recounting high school memories how you fell hard for the dark haired twin, and while yes, it made rintaro tense up, you assured him it was over. You were done with him.

Yet every time you hang out with the group, Rintaro feels that same jealousy creep up his spine.

“God, when will it click for you that I love you!” You cry, desperate for him to hear you. “You! Only you! For five years Rintaro, it’s only ever been you!”

“Don’t act like you still don’t-“

“I DONT!” You bark. “I don’t! Whatever you’re about to say, I. Don’t. Because I do, with you!”

He feels sick to his stomach at this point, your sharp words to him only translating as a defense against his words, desperate to keep something hidden.

Not as a genuine frustration.

“I think you should go be with Osamu,” he snarls. “Since your so comfortable getting him drinks and putting your hands on him-“

“I wasn’t making out with the kid, I was patting his back after a joke!”

“-and maybe you should be with him since he’s just soo funny-“

“MAYBE I WILL!” You shriek.

The plates in the kitchen settle and the doors creak softly at the force of your yells, and your eyes glimmer with remorse but your face harbors exhaustion.

“…what?” He croaks.

“Maybe I should go be with literally anyone else,” you choke. “Since you think I’m flirting with anyone and everyone in the goddamned circle-“

“Wait- no, I just-“

“I don’t care what you do,” you whimper. “I’m sick of your jealousy. I’m sick of your hatred of my friendship with some kid who couldn’t give a fuck about me- you literally picked up the pieces of me he shattered, yet you still think there’s a chance I could love him?” You scoff, “you’re ridiculous.”

He sobers up as you throw your arms out in defeat, “I’m so… tired, of the accusations, Rintaro. I’ve given you five years of unconditional love and gratitude. And all you can boil me down to is someone who had a crush in high school?”

“I’m just so worried to lose you,” he says, voice breaking.

“Yeah? Well, you’ve lost me.” You take a step back and gnaw on your lip, “I’m going to go. Think long and thorough about this. But just know, I’ll always love you. Even if you’ve never trusted me.”

“No, no, no, please, don’t leave-“

“I’ll talk to you later…. Okay?”

He’s never going to hear from you again. This, he knows.

The door closes, and he wipes his tearful eyes with the back of his head, slipping out his phone to look at your happy smiling face again, one he took off the face of the earth with his jealousy.

There’s a black screen that faces back to him. It won’t turn on. He groans and hucks the thing across the room, hearing it clang somewhere far enough away.

He’ll deal with it in the morning. For now, he’s got some wallowing to plan out.

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year ago

Text

the horses, cars and cowboys do | d. targaryen

Description: How Daemon and Therese came to be. Part three of the 'therese' series. part two

(Summer, 2013)

Love comes when you're not looking for it.

It hits you straight on the face - and it doesn't apologize.

A loud sigh escapes your mouth. 'Just my luck,' you mumble to yourself, exiting the car - and slamming the door loudly. It was clear that you were fucked - there was steam coming out of the hood and you were in the middle of nowhere.

"How the hell am I gonna get out of here?" you look around you - eyes narrowed and searching for a ride. There was no one for miles, the only thing open was an ugly motel - that was probably infested with lice and other bugs. It was in the middle of the night - there was no one coming to save you.

You reach for the keypad phone inside your driver's compartment, mumbling strings of curses. You just broke up with your boyfriend - you didn't get the role for a series that you've been pining for - and now you were stuck in the middle of nowhere with no signal.

The gods had their favorites. It wasn't you.

To your surprise, you weren't the only one visiting the motel in a late hour. There was someone speaking with the receptionist too - judging from his stance and aura, he was someone important. A rich businessman or a lawyer, but he was hot.

Hot in a way that you wanted him to have your babies. Hot in way that you wanted to start a family with him - nothing sexual.

"Sir, we only have one room left." the receptionist mumbles - eyes interlocking with yours. The man removes his sunglasses, seemingly undeterred by anything happening outside of him. "Yeah, book that one." he answered in a quick tone.

He probably worked in Corporate. Everything was fast paced.

"O-okay," the man stuttered - "What's your name?" he inquired, giving enough time for you to make your way towards the counter.

"Daemon Targaryen," the man answered - placing his sunglasses inside his pockets. He tilts his head sideways, glancing at you. "I'd like to book a room, please." you smiled at the receptionist, completely oblivious that the motel was fully booked.

"We're fully booked, ma'am." the receptionist informed - already beginning to print Daemon's receipt. "How?" your eyes narrowed - looking around the halls for any signs of human life. "There's a party in town ma'am, everyone's come to visit." the man reported, and a slight groan escapes your mouth.

The thought of sleeping alone in your car didn't settle well with you.

It wasn't safe, especially for a woman.

"Can't you free a room for me? Name your price," you sigh, taking out your wallet that held all your debit cards. The man shakes his head. "There aren't any rooms, ma'am. I'm so sorry." the man's lips settled into a thin line.

You turned your attention towards Daemon.

"Were you able to book a room?" you asked him, and the world seemed to freeze in front of him. Everything began to happen in slow motion - the moving of your hair, and the slight frown on your face. "I booked the last one, I'm sorry - but you're free to bunk with me." Daemon offered, and your frown deepens.

The audacity that men had nowadays.

"No thank you," you hum in return, tapping your fingers impatiently on the counter. "I'm no danger, I promise." he raised his arms in mock surrender. You turned to look at him again. He looked familiar.

"Do I know you?" you tilted your head sideways.

"I'm Daemon Targaryen," he introduced himself - extending his hand to shake. "Y/N L/N. You're Sandy Bullock's ex right?" you inquire and a low chuckle escapes his mouth.

He's revolutionized the tech industry and everyone knows him to be Sandra' ex boyfriend. "Yes," he replied with a sigh. He tilts his head too - finding your features familiar. But he doesn't know you, right? He'd remember a face so ... perfect. "We met before - during the Emmys!" you smile - slowly unraveling yourself to him.

"Outstanding Drama Series?" his eyes narrowed - remembering exactly who you were. "Yes! But we didn't win." you chuckled nervously - remembering all the things that he was.

"Pity, I enjoyed watching Breaking Bad." he smiled.

"- god, now I feel bad for stealing your room. You can have it, I can sleep in my car." he offered and you shake your head.

"It's nothing, lets 'bunk' together."

After the eventful night of sleeping, he offered to drive you home.

"Thank you for letting me use your phone. My manager will get the car this noon." you inform, handing him his clean phone.

"And the car home? You have anything to ride?" he questioned and you shake your head. "I might hitchhike," you answer, and a frown paints his face.

"I'll drive you home."

Four words, that sealed your eternity.

@baybieruth @watercolorskyy @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @icarusgloom @pearlstiare @areaderinlove @hc-geralt-23 @rozendiors @twobluejeans

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sequinsmile-x · 5 months ago

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Seventy Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

As always, thank you for the love for this version of them. So sorry for the delay in this chapter - real life has been a little mad recently and I didn't have the brain capacity to do anything other than one shots/shorter form fics.

Anyway, I'm looking to be back to weekly updates on this now!

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily smiles as Jack runs off ahead of her, giggling excitedly as he runs towards the infant swings, his smile wide as he turns back to look at her.

“Hurry up, Emmy and Lily.”

She laughs as she continues to slowly walk along the path, slightly hunched over with Lily just a pace in front of her, the toddler's steps wobbly as she holds onto Emily’s fingers tightly.

“We’re coming Jack,” she says, turning her attention back towards her little, “Look at you Miss Lily, you’re such a good walker.”

She’d taken her first steps just a couple of weeks ago and had been unstoppable ever since. They’d spent weeks knowing she was close to doing it. She would stand for long periods of time before falling gently back onto her bottom, her eyes wide in shock as if she knew she was supposed to do something but couldn’t figure out what. She, Aaron and Jack would spend hours sitting on the floor coaxing her towards them, and she’d even made a bet with Aaron over who Lily would walk towards first - as insistent that it would be her as he was that it would be him.

They’d both laughed when she’d toddled towards Jack, slow, unsteady steps as she headed towards her brother, her smile wide as she was encouraged by her family’s excitement.

Lily stops and tightens her grip on Emily, turning in her embrace, her eyebrows furrowed, “Mama up.”

Emily smiles and stands up straight, lifting Lily as she does and settling her on her hip, “I guess that’s a lot of walking for this time of day,” she says, kissing her daughter’s temple, “Your Daddy and brother are lucky we love them so much, huh?”

Aaron had signed up for the annual FBI triathlon. After coming back from Pakistan he’d worried about his level of fitness, no longer used to chasing down unsubs like he once had been. Emily knew that, even though he’d never say it, he was also thinking about his age, about the fact he was edging towards his late 40s something that was never far from his mind. He wanted to be as fit as possible to keep up with Lily and Jack, and any other children that they may have, and she understood that.

Even if it meant that she was in the park before 8 am on a Saturday.

Usually, Aaron would come and do his training by himself and be back before breakfast, putting his inability to sleep in to good use, but this morning Jack and Lily had been awake too, and any hope Emily may have had about a lazy start to the weekend was gone. Despite her half-hearted protests as they’d loaded into the car, her eyes fixed on her husband in his workout gear, she couldn’t bring herself to care. The soft, domestic nature of her life in moments like this was everything she’d spent years wishing for. The very thing she’d always told herself she’d give her children if she had them.

“Come on, sweet girl,” she says, lowering the little girl into the swing, running her fingers through her hair as she does so. Lily laughs in anticipation, her love of the swings well known, as she tries to shift in the seat to get it moving. Emily chuckles, “Hang on, baby.”

“Can I push her, Emmy?” Jack asks, already standing behind the swing, his hands on the back of it, “Lily likes it when I push her.”

Emily nods and stands out of the way, “Of course you can, sweetie.”

She smiles as she watches them together, her heart swelling in her chest as they laugh together. She takes more than a dozen pictures on her phone, not caring that she already has countless similar ones, and imagines what it would be like to have another baby sat in the next swing, their face slightly out of focus but their laugh matching their brother and sisters. The thought of it makes her ache, joy and hope that felt close to treacherous filling her lungs.

“Who is that lady talking to Daddy?”

Emily turns and looks in the direction Jack is pointing, her brows furrowing as she spots her husband walking on the path towards them, his hands on the handles of his bike as he walks it back, and a brunette woman she’d never seen before walking alongside him doing the same. She feels jealousy lick at her insides, her eyes narrowing as the mystery woman laughs at something Aaron has said, her head thrown back as they get closer.

“I have no idea,” she says, pressing her lips together as she turns back to Jack and Lily. She walks over and lifts Lily into her arms, “Why don’t we go find out?”

Jack nods and holds her hand, smiling up at her as they walk towards Aaron. He smiles when he sees them, wide and real and hers, and it cools down some of the jealousy burning through her. Rationally, she knew Aaron barely even noticed when other women flirted with him. He’d barely noticed when she’d been flirting with him before their first kiss. He was entirely unaware of his power. How handsome he was, how watching him command a room could distract her from anything.

“Hi,” she says as they come to a stop, only a few feet between them. Now she was standing in front of him she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to say, and she clears her throat, letting the first excuse she could think of escape past her lips, “The kids missed you.”

Aaron smiles, a flicker of a thing that lets her know she’s already been rumbled, “Well good thing I’m done for today then, isn’t it?” He ruffles Jack’s hair as he gets closer, “Did you have fun in the park?”

“I pushed Lily in the swing!” He says enthusiastically, his gaze shifting from his father to the woman standing next to him, “Who are you?”

Emily suppresses a chuckle, covering it with a poor excuse for a cough, at Jack’s innocent but abrupt question. She presses her lips together when Aaron briefly glances at her, his eyes sparking with amusement only she would ever see.

“Sorry,” he says, “This is Beth,” he says addressing his son, “I ran into a bit of trouble with my bike and she helped me.”

Beth smiles, her focus all on Aaron before she looks at Emily, her smile slipping from her face as she spots the fake one aimed right back at her, “It wasn’t any trouble,” she says, clearing her throat, “You must be Emily. I’ve heard all about you.”

This time Emily’s smile is real, she has to bite the inside of her cheek in an attempt to stop it from getting too wide, “Well,” she says, “I hope he was complimentary.”

“Absolutely,” Beth says, her smile awkward as she squeezes the handlebar of her bike, “Anyway, I should get going,” she says, smiling up at Aaron again, “I’ll see you around I’m sure.”

Emily watches as she leaves, her eyes narrowed on the retreating woman’s back, “Is she here a lot?”

“I’ve seen her before,” Aaron answers, “But I’ve never spoken to her. She really was just being helpful, sweetheart,” he says, amusement flowing from his eyes, something that slowly fades as she carries on watching Beth walk away. He sighs, no irritation in it as he thinks about how well he knows his wife, “You’re coming here every Saturday now aren’t you?”

She hums, her eyes slightly narrowed as they meet his, “Absolutely.”

She blows out a deep breath and closes her eyes, giving herself a moment to steady herself, to calm the nervous hope rolling in her stomach. She opens her eyes and lifts the pregnancy test, the negative result immediately turning her hope to ash.

“Damn it.” She shakes her head and swallows thickly, her grip on the test briefly tightening. She’s about to turn around and throw it in the bin, but she isn’t quick enough, the door swinging open as Aaron walks in, scratching the back of his head and yawning.

“Morning sweetheart,” he says, “It’s not like you to be awake first…” he trails off, his hands falling to his side as he realises what she’s holding. He steps towards her, “Em-”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s negative,” she cuts over him, throwing it into the bin next to her. She crosses her arms tight over her chest and looks down at the floor, “I’m not pregnant.”

He pushes down the flash of disappointment he feels, knowing she is the most important thing in this moment. Her nerves were fraying, her arms tight across her chest in an attempt to hold herself together, and he steps towards her.

“Sweetheart,” he says, pulling her into his arms, kissing her head when she sinks into him, her arms slowly unwrapping from around herself and hooking around his shoulders, “It’s okay,” he says, kissing her temple, “We’ve only been trying a couple of months. And it’s only one negative test.”

“Two,” she mutters, her response mumbled against his chest. She pulls back to look at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, “Two negative tests. I took one last month too.”

He frowns, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “When?”

She sniffs, and she shrugs half-heartedly, “When you were on that case in Oklahoma.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighs, looking down, “It’s stupid.”

He hooks his thumb under her chin and encourages her to look up at him, his smile soft and encouraging, “You’ve never been stupid a moment in your life,” he says, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, “Not even when you were on the team and actively put yourself in danger by wilfully ignoring my orders,” they both chuckle, hers wet as it catches on her ribs, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She nods, her eyes drifting shut, more tears she hates slashing down onto her cheeks, “I wanted to be the one to tell you,” she says, shaking her head at herself, her cheeks warm with confession, “When we had Lily that doctor just…told us because he thought we knew. With the miscarriage, we didn’t know until it was over,” her lower lip trembles as she shrugs again, “I just wanted that moment where I pee on a stick and then tell your our family is getting bigger,” she says, her eyes meeting his as he stares at her, “I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he says emphatically, pulling her closer to press his forehead against hers, “Not at all,” he assures her, “But tell me. And I’ll be standing on the other side of the door waiting for you to tell me. Okay?”

She chokes on a sound she can’t name, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and she nods, her forehead gently knocking against his before she buries it in his chest, “Okay.”

He pulls her close and rubs his hand up and down her back, his lips against her forehead, “And it wasn’t been that long yet, sweetheart. It’s only been a couple of months.”

“I know,” she says, resting her cheek on his shoulder, “And I know you and Haley tried for a long time with Jack,” she adds, blowing out a slow breath. It was one of the reasons she’d kept this to herself, knowing that in comparison it was nothing, that it had been barely any time at all. “But…every other time I’ve been pregnant it’s happened so easily,” she tilts her head and smiles sadly at him, “I just wanted it to be the same this time.”

“I know,” he assures her, “But when it happens, we’ll have another amazing kid,” he says, pulling back to kiss her forehead, “The world needs more of you in it.”

She chuckles and shakes her head, her response stopped as Lily cries from the next room.

“Mama!”

“I’ve been summoned,” she says, kissing him before she pulls away, “Pancakes?”

He smiles, knowing their conversation is over for now, and he nods, “You get Lily-Pad, I’ll get working on breakfast.”

“Don’t call her that,” she mutters as she walks away, “I dread to think what nickname you’ll come up with for the next one.”

He chuckles as he follows her out of the bedroom, “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’m already working on it.”

-x-

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cloudlessly-light · 11 months ago

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Hi. Can you please write something about morning after rough sex. Their relationship is still new and Emily a little bit shy after what happened last night. But they make sweet love and Aaron reassures her and says that she’s wonderful. Thank you ☺️

A/N: This is the last chapter if this little story and I want to thank everyone who’s read, commented and liked it! I will give a special warning for this chapter, it deals with subdrop (but not in so many words) nothing graphic, but if you’re sensitive to that, this is your trigger warning.

Title: Seems you cannot be replaced (Chapter 7/7) Summary: It shouldn’t have happened, but they were drunk. It shouldn’t have happened but it felt right. It shouldn’t have happened but now it has. It shouldn’t have happened now they have to deal with it.

Or, Emily always leaves before he wakes up, but she always leaves a note. Word Count: 2,5k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, feelings, soft smut, soft, they’re idiots who love each other, mentions of bruises/marks, subdrop

Emily wakes to the sound of Aaron and Jack laughing in the living room, it’s a sound she’s come to love and she smiles as she stretches. It’s Sunday and they have the entire weekend off, which meant that Jack had spent the night. The three-year-old was always up early, and they had gotten to bed late, way too late, so she appreciated Aaron for letting her sleep in.

The thought of the previous night makes her cheeks heat, memories of how Aaron had pinned her down and covered her mouth with his hand to keep her quiet rushes through her mind. Her body aches from the way he’d taken her in all kinds of positions, something primal having overtaken him the night before. And she had loved every second of it. But there’s a slightly nagging feeling in the back of her mind, a weird sense of insecurity that only enhanced when she got out of bed and caught a look of herself in the mirror.

Her thighs and hips were bruised, marks from Aaron’s hands and teeth littering her body in a way they never had before. It wasn’t unusual that her pale skin had some kind of mark after a night when they had been especially passionate with each other, but she had never looked like this the day after. She didn’t know why it made her pause, why doubts she hadn’t ever experienced with him before suddenly clouded her brain.

She knows that she didn’t regret a single moment with him and shrugs to herself. It was just her mind playing tricks on her, she thought.

“Emmy!” Jack comes running as soon as he sees her exit the bedroom dressed in one of Aaron’s shirts and a pair of shorts.

“Good morning Jack.” She smiles brightly, and picks him up so he can settle against her hip. Any thoughts or feelings she’d had would have to wait until later. “How did you sleep?”

“Good.” Jack rests his head against her shoulder for a few seconds as Aaron approaches them too. “Daddy made oatmeal.”

“He did huh?” She smiles at Aaron who presses a quick kiss against her lips. “The best oatmeal in the world.”

“Yupp!” He starts to squirm and Emily easily puts him down and they watch as Jack runs towards the couch to continue watching the morning cartoons.

“How did you sleep, sweetheart? I hope we didn’t wake you.” Aaron easily wraps his arm around the small of her back, but she feels tense against him. “Something wrong?”

“No.” She says quietly, blushing as his hand move to her hip and presses right against a bruise. “I’m just a little…sore.”

For a moment he doesn’t seem to understand what she means, eyebrows furrowed as he studies the slight awkwardness that’s suddenly come over her. Then she raises an eyebrow and motions towards the bedroom and he gets it.

“Oh.” He breathes as his own memories of the previous night come to mind, how she had gasped and pleaded, how her nails had broken the skin of his back, how the want he felt for her was maddening sometimes. But there was something off about her, the usually collected and confident woman gone as she had trouble keeping eye contact and her teeth bit down on her bottom lip. “Emily, are you alright?”

“Yes.” She pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. “Haley will pick up Jack soon, we can talk then.”

As much as he wanted to argue, he knew that she was right. So he nodded and when Emily pressed another kiss to his lips he felt a little better.

“Later.”

By the time Haley has picked up Jack, a couple of hours have gone by and Emily feels better. Being occupied by a hyper toddler definitely was enough to take her mind off whatever doubts she had felt. But she could feel Aaron’s eyes on her as soon as he had closed the door.

He had been nervous, clearly picking up on whatever insecurity she was feeling. But Aaron was anything but overbearing, so he had given her space, even as they played together or watched cartoons, he had let Emily come to him. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so anxious, why last night had this kind of effect on her when she had loved everything they had done.

She waited for him to join her on the couch before taking his hand, she had gotten so used to the feeling of his hand in hers, that it comforted her.

“Em, what’s going on?” He asks, thumb stroking even circles against the top of her hand soothingly.

“I- I’m not sure.” She chuckles dryly, because how was she supposed to explain something she wasn’t even sure of herself? “I woke up and…” She trailed off and looked down in her lap. She sighed heavily and pushed her hair out of her face before looking at him again. He looked so concerned that her heart ached, dark eyes so soft she felt like she could drown in them. “When I saw the bruises from last night, I felt off.”

“Off?” He immediately feels self-loathing, that anything they had done, that he had done, caused her any kind of distress.

“It’s the only way I can describe it.” She licked over her bottom lip nervously. “I enjoyed everything we did, please don’t think I didn’t. But when I woke up, for a moment I didn’t and now I’m kind of questioning.”

“Questioning what?” He thinks he knows, and when she looks away and doesn’t answer he gets his answer, and he feels his heart breaking. “You’re questioning my feelings for you?”

“It’s dumb.” She mumbles but Aaron carefully angles her face towards his, and she sees nothing but love, something they’ve yet to say except for the one time in a chaotic ER that feels like a lifetime ago, but in reality it had only been a couple of months.

“It’s not dumb.” His thumb rubs over her cheek and she leans into the touch. “But baby, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I-I thought you liked when we were…” He stops to think of a suitable word. “A little rougher.” He finally settles on and she nods.

“I do. Which is why I’m so confused right now.”

“Emily, I love you.” He says it so easily, like it isn’t the first time, like he’s said it a hundred times before. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this.” His voice drops off to a whisper and she decides that she needs him closer, so she moves to straddle him on the couch, her forehead pressing against his. “I never want you to think that I don’t love you, sweetheart.”

As his hands move slowly to settle on her waist, she feels some of the anxiousness lessen, his proximity mixed with gentle words and worried eyes somehow taking the edge off.

“I don’t regret anything we did.” She says because she doesn’t, she doesn’t want him to feel like he has to be careful with her. “But maybe, if we are a little rougher, we can check in after? Just to make sure we’re both okay?”

“Of course, it was stupid of me not to think of it.”

The self-deprecation in his voice makes her shake her head and she cup his cheeks in her hands.

“Honey, look at me.” She waits until his eyes are on hers. “You weren’t stupid, neither was I. Neither of us knew that this could happen, it has never happened before. So please don’t think that you did something wrong. I’m already feeling better, so much better, because I’m with you.” She holds his gaze until he nods slowly.

“Okay.” He breathes and she smiles softly. “You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, do you know that?”

She kisses him as her cheek tint pink, this time blushing from feeling so happy and he kisses her back. Her tongue licks at the seam of his lips and he opens his mouth to her. They stay like that until they’re out of breath and any previous awkwardness or anxiousness is gone.

“Can I show you how amazing I think you are?” He asks and she nods, the familiar heat pulsing between her thighs and only enhancing when she feels his bulge against her.

She’s always impressed with his strength, but when he somehow manages to stand up while carrying her she’s reminded just how strong he is and she wraps her legs tight around his waist as he carries her through the apartment. He kisses her and somehow they manage to make their way to the bedroom without him dropping her or bumping into any furniture.

When he lays her down in the middle of the bed she arches into his touch, his warm hands slowly moving down her sides until he can slide them underneath her shirt. He peels it off her and Emily gets her bra off before laying back down. She looks up at him through her long lashes, eyes dark and hooded already, cheeks flushed and lips red and slightly kiss-swollen.

“Gorgeous.” He whispers, he could spend hours just watching her. He sees some of the marks he’s left on her, and he kisses each one, wanting any negative feelings she still might have to go away. He’s moving slowly down her body until he licks along the seam of the cotton shorts.

She lifts her hips enough for him to get them, along with her underwear down her legs and his breathing hitches at the sight of the bitemarks and bruises. He continues to kiss every one, spends so long kissing her skin that she starts to squirm.

“Baby.” She whispers and pulls slightly on his shirt. “Need you.” Any reservation she’d had was gone, his lips and touch along any mark he’s left on her making her shiver, her want for him overpowering anything else.

“Okay sweetheart.” He moves to his knees to remove his shirt, then gets his pants off his legs to be thrown somewhere on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

“Seems like you’re not the only one that got a little carried away.” She looks at him, marks from her teeth and nails covering his chest and waist and she can’t help the little smirk.

“I like them, I like knowing I’m yours.” He mumbles as he settles between her legs, his nose nuzzling hers.

“And I’m yours.” She gasps into another kiss, her fingers gripping his hair to keep him close as her legs spread wider for him. The length of his shaft presses against her folds, putting pressure against her clit and she moans softly.

Aaron shifts above her, one hand moving between them to guide himself into her and grunting as he slowly pushes inside of her.

“Fuck baby,” He groans, forehead landing on her shoulder as she clenches around him. “always so good.”

She whimpers, jaw slack and eyes closed as he presses his hips against hers. Her legs wrap around his waist, the hand that was still tangled in his hair gripping a little tighter. They take a moment to just be before Aaron starts to move, his lips soft against her neck and hand gentle as he caresses along her curves.

“You’re perfect, my perfect girl.” He continues to whisper his adoration for her, wants her never to doubt him or them again. She was it for him, he knew that and he needed her to know it too.

“Aaron.” She moaned as his hips rocked gently against hers, building the pleasure up slowly. “You feel so good.” Her eyes find his and she smiles up at him. “Kiss me.”

He does, deeply and hard, their tongues meeting and bodies straining. She pushes up to meet his thrusts, the coiling in her belly building as he moves above her. Her back arches as his groans get deeper, the sounds she loves so much breathed against her ear.

“God I’m so lucky, having you here.” He rasps and she whimpers in response, her fingers digging into his waist.

“I’m the lucky one.” She mumbles between kisses against his shoulder, then he snaps his hips a little harder and she falls back against the pillow. “Don’t stop, fuck baby.”

As she tenses underneath him, Aaron can feel his own release building with each push of his hips and he picks up the pace. He feels how her slick walls cling to him, can hear the way her breathing hitches and he knows that she’s on the brink.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He breathes and it’s only a few seconds later that Emily is crying out, thighs trembling and eyes closed tight as she comes apart underneath him. “That’s it, that’s it Em.” He whispers against her ear, voice trembling slightly as he holds back his own pleasure until she’s started to come down and he lets himself go too. He pushes deep inside of her, rocks against her until he’s coming with a shaky groan.

Emily whimpers as he twitches above her, feeling full of him. She stays still, runs her hands soothingly up and down his back even as he slumps against her, panting against the crook of her neck.

“You’re amazing, honey.” She mumbles before placing a kiss to his sweaty temple.

“You are too.” He smiles and rolls off her, but not before pressing a kiss to her lips. He holds his arms out and she quickly settles against his side, his arm tight around her middle. “Want to take a nap?”

“Aaron Hotchner napping? The world has turned on its axis.” She teases him and he pinches her side making her laugh. But as she relaxes she realizes how physically and mentally drained she is. “A nap does sound nice.” She admits and he hums against the back of her neck.

“It’s Sunday, we’re allowed.”

She falls asleep feeling sated and safe and only wakes up when Aaron shifts slightly behind her, rolling onto his back. Her eyes move to the clock on the nightstand and she decided that she should clean up before they get started on dinner, knowing that the alarm he had set would go off in less than 20 minutes. She sneaks out of bed, knows that as much as she needed a nap, he needs rest too.

As she puts his shirt back on, she smiles to herself as she grabs a post it from the dresser. She writes the note and fastens it on the alarm to make sure that it’s the first thing he notices when he wakes up.

I love you too.

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