#real-deal italian spots

[fieriframes]

[So, it's places like these, the real-deal Italian spots with names like "Capone's" in Idaho, a barbecue joint cooking up whole hogs and taking over Nashville, and a legit motel diner that's keeping it real in Miami.]

[4unnyr0se]

❥ being satoru gojo's sugar baby

warnings: rich asf gojo, reader is a bitch in the first part, fem! reader, lingerie, riding, cunnilingus, doggystyle, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, gojo hates stupid people, not proofread, reader gets so spoiled, spanking, asphyxiation

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.6k

Being Satoru fucking Gojo wasn’t easy. Being handsome, rich, and popular with the ladies? Talk about a workout. He had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it all. It’s only the result of being fucking brilliant at business practices, always knowing when to strike a perfect deal. And that bore the fruit of luxury cars, Italian jackets, and beautiful women aplenty. Gojo liked fucking the pretty girls he met in the clubs, sure. They were good for a decent cock-sucking, their expensive lipstick always forming a nice little ring around his dick. Poor things, it was probably the only nice lipstick they owned. Gojo felt bad for them in a way, they would never know what it was like to be spoiled by a man such as himself. They were so fucking fake, expecting to be spoiled just for having a decent pussy to fuck. Don’t get him wrong, Gojo liked fucking the college girls he met in the clubs, but he wanted something that was real. He wanted a good girl to spend his infinite cashflow on, not a whore who didn’t know what a fucking tax bracket was. 

He met you at his usual club, not recognizing your face from behind the bar. Hm, you must have been new there, Gojo would never ignore a pretty face like that, even though you were so grumpy looking. Did you hate your job like he hated bimbos? Gojo wasted no time in sitting himself down in your section of the bar counter, ordering a shot of the most expensive vodka the club offered. You called him an asshole and Gojo could have proposed right then and there. 

Gojo attended the club every night, sitting at the exact same spot and ordering a different, expensive drink each time. He noticed how you softly smiled when he told the local club bimbos to piss off, no doubt enjoying him shooing away drunken, stupid girls. Eventually you finally caved and gave him your number, resulting in him giving you a kiss on the back of your hand like a prince would.

Every day he would call you, text you, ask about your day. Did anyone give you trouble at the club? If it was a shitty coworker of yours, Gojo would have them fired. It didn’t matter if he didn’t own the club, he was half of the club’s monthly revenue. Gojo could do whatever the hell he wanted, he was practically paying everyone's salaries. His texts brightened your day, along with his visits to the club when you worked long evening shifts. He had stopped ordering drinks altogether, just slipping you a healthy $300 every hour or two. You had refused at first, but Gojo had this really annoying habit of being able to convince anyone of anything. It got to a point where you just held out your hand for the money at the start of every hour, which made his cock throb with desire. You were growing accustom to being spoiled and he fucking loved that. You were spoiled without being stupid, that was so fucking sexy to him.

One night, after a very annoying shift, you invited him to visit your crappy apartment downtown. Gojo jumped at the opportunity and practically threw you into his Bently, no doubt breaking a couple of traffic laws to make it to your place in record time. It was so humbling, your apartment. There were cracks in the fall and the faucet had the most annoying drip, this would absolutely not do. You deserved to live in a fucking castle in the sky, not in this shithole.

Gojo bought you a townhouse a stone's throw away from his penthouse. You protested and groaned at him not to, claiming you weren’t worth it. Gojo quickly shut you up with a passionate and longing kiss, whispering against your plush lips that he would buy you the moon and the stars. After that, you really couldn’t complain. Everything was paid off for the fifty-year lease that Gojo had signed; he was so disgustingly rich. Why did you have to go back to working at that sleazy club? Oh, right, you had to afford to eat and shop. Don’t worry; Gojo gave you a ridiculously large sum of money every week to buy whatever the hell you wanted, sending you more money if you run out. You only spend a couple of hundred dollars a week on groceries, but then there was this stunning vintage Dior dress in a shop window, and you simply had to have it. You sent Gojo a picture that displayed the price tag, and he swore he came in his pants. Fuck, you looked amazing wearing designer dresses. And you were modeling for him; he wanted to marry you so badly.

You bought lingerie one time, lacy and black, and so fucking expensive. Garters and stockings and the works, a gorgeous French design. Gojo just about lost his mind when he saw that photo you sent, driving over to your townhouse as soon as he had an opening. He tackled you in a passionate and longing kiss, ripping off the lingerie with his hands. Whatever, he’d buy you another set. No, twenty more sets.

His lips trailed across your body, leaving searing, hot kisses in their wake. You were covered in Gojo’s bites and bruises, looking like an ancient Greek sculpture. Gojo fucked you right on the floor of your living room, not bothering to carry you up the flight of stairs to your bed. You just looked so good in the lingerie you purchased with his money. His money, his lingerie, his sugar baby. Your sobbing pussy was squeezing his massive fucking cock, sucking him into you like a vortex. Your manicured fingernails left angry crescent-shaped prints on his back, his Italian jacket, and other expensive clothes long forgotten about in a pile next to the door. His cock slammed into you over and over again, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix until you were screaming his name, swearing you were gonna cum all over his cock. Gojo fucking loved hearing your moans; they sounded so expensive when his ringed fingers were wrapped around your throat, squeezing it ever so gently. He moaned into your ear as your orgasm washed over you once more, the third one in the hour. He still wasn’t finished, oh no. He had you folded into a mating press, begging and whining to be cummed in by one of the wealthiest men in the world. And who was he to deny his princess? Gojo shot himself deep inside of you, painting your womb with his seed. It looked so pretty seeping out of who; he just had to take a picture. You wouldn’t mind, right? He’d just give you another five grand for a few more dresses. 

Oh, even his aftercare was expensive. Running you a bath infused with freshly-pressed lavender and rose oil, soaking into your skin beautifully. Your fucked-out face was flush from the steam in the bathroom, making your already perfect skin so smooth. Gojo never wanted to stop touching you, not for a moment. He wrapped you in your Egyptian cotton sheets and held you tightly in his arms, thanking you for being his baby. As he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his precious baby’s ear, you drifted off.

After that perfect night, Gojo basically lived in your luxury townhouse. He would be there when you opened your eyes and when you closed them. There to take you out on romantic restaurant dates and feed you the highest quality sushi there was. He was there to buy half the fucking boutique if you wanted him to. Those dresses were too pretty for anyone else to wear besides you. You no longer protested when he bought you stuff, only kissing his chest while humming a thank you in his ear. The expensive lipstick you wore stained his cheek, not that he minded one bit.

Apart from the expensive gifts, dates, and other such things, Gojo loved fucking you. You modeled every single set of lingerie he wanted you to, especially black and blue sets. He loved your little fashion shows, the way you would always sit on his lap and grind down on his thigh, your arousal soaking the delicate fabrics. His hand would slap your ass, commanding you cum on his thigh and ruin your panties. He’d fuck you face down ass up with an expensive vibrator on your puffy clit, smirking sadistically as you sobbed that it was too much, you couldn’t take it. He’d make you ride him in his home office, making sure his video camera was always off during meetings so no one except for him could see that pretty ass bouncing up and down on his cock, milking it for all it was worth. He’d demand you sit on his face, not letting you off until he had his fill, your cum covering his mouth and face. Gojo would command you to lick it off him, hands squeezing your waist, and was adorned with a leather garter belt.

God, he wanted to breed you. He never wanted to use protection, which you objected to at first. But he whined and pleaded, claiming it would only be once. Well, once turned into always. He always came inside of you multiple times a day. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure that he had fucked his cum inside of your pussy, sticking a finger inside just to make sure it was still there. He would babble on about how you two would have the most perfect wedding and have such cute babies, how he would take care of you. You would be so pretty, all swollen with his child. 

Satoru Gojo took care of you from the moment the two of you met, your companionship being the most valuable asset he had. To him, you were the most precious thing, and he would take care of you until the day that he died.

[tomssexdoll]

 A Table for Three

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom and you have been bombarded with work like usual, never having any time for a real date night. When the time came you both went to a fancy resturant, excited to finally have proper time together, the night is shortly ruined when a young, flirty waitress is chosen for your table. She flirts and ignores you all the while Tom plays off her behaviour and flirts back with her.

REQ AND A/N: Hii, could you make something w smut and super angsty with Tom? Like he and the reader are out at a restaurant for date night, and the waitress has been flirting with him all night and he kinda plays it off but also entertains her a bit, and then gives her a huge tip before leaving which causes conflict during the car ride home like a "wtf was that??" Situation n he's acting a lil oblivious ofc and then whatever else happens (I'll leave that to you), and it's resolved at home—in bed I tried to be detailed since you wrote that you prefer when we add more details but I hope I didn't overdo it😣😣

no you didn't I love detail pookie, it's so sweet you remembered that!

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (riding), mutual masturbation (fingering and jerking off), arguing

Me and Tom hadn't been out for a date in a while, since he was a rockstar and he was busy basically every single week with work, recording songs, making a new album, planning tours and concerts, doing brand deals, etc. We finally found a time for both of us where we weren't jam packed with work and stressed out.

Our "date nights" usually consisted of us both crashing out in bed and cuddling to sleep. I wanted a real date night though, I wanted an excuse to dress up and look pretty and have a proper meal.

He had been especially busy lately, he barely had time to breathe, let alone plan a proper date night. He noticed I started to seem a little disappointed with our "dates" and decided that he would plan something special this time. He booked a fancy Italian restaurant, the one I'd be raving about going to all month.

While I got dressed Tom waited on the couch, scrolling through his phone, just checking on updates from work. When I came downstairs, dressed up in a beautiful red dress that hugged my curves in all the right places his eyes widened, taking in my appearance. A slow smirk spread across his face, "damn baby..you look absolutely stunning, come here.." he patted the spot next to him, putting his phone to the side.

I noticed the way he kept looking back at his phone to see if anything new came up from work, I sighed and gently tilted his chin to face me. "Baby, you'll be okay for one night without checking in on the band 24/7, they can live without you, let's have fun tonight.." he sighed dramatically and put his phone in his pocket, switching it to silent mode.

"Alright, alright. You're right, they can survive one night without me micromanaging everything," he chuckled, planting a soft kiss to my lips before standing up, buttoning his shirt and putting on his leather jacket. "Alright baby, let's go." He took my hand, walking me outside to his car and getting inside, ready for a fun night after what felt like decades.

We eventually arrived at the restaurant, the hostess leading us to our seats and pouring us a glass of red wine. Tom leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "you know, it's not very often I get to see you all dressed up like this. It's a nice change from our usual sweatpants and netflix nights.." he chuckled, finding my hand and rubbing slow circles on my skin with his thumb.

As we were ready to order our food, our waitress came to our table, a young, attractive woman. Her cleavage was basically ready to bust our of her uniform at any second. Tom's eyes immediately locked onto the waitress's cleavage, a small smirk playing on his lips as he reached out to take the menu from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers.

She was of course flirty with Tom, batting her eyelashes at him like a lovesick teenager. "I'll have the filet mignon, rare and a side of garlic mashed potatos.." he smirked, his voice low, like he was trying to impress her. She giggled and nodded, "one filet mignon and the garlic mashed potatos..coming right up!" she went to leave, almost like she forgot all about me.

I cleared my throat, "uhm.. and i'll have the pasta bolognese please.." she sighed and turned to face us again, giving me a subtle glare, "sure.." she mumbled, scribbling it down on her notepad. She gave one last glance to Tom before winking and walking off.

"Strange.." I sighed and sipped at my wine, he chuckled awkwardly and leaned back in his chair, sipping his own wine nonchalantly, but I could tell he was still thinking about the waitress. The way his eyes kept drifting back to the door she disappeared through, "so..how have you been..?" he asked, trying to refocus the conversation on me. "Tom..we live together how do you-" I stopped myself and sighed, "i've been fine.." I put on a fake smile.

As the waitress re-emerged from the kitchen, Tom's eyes locked onto her again, watching as she walked around the restaurant, deliberately swaying her hips. He pretended to adjust his napkin in his lap, trying to hide the fact that he was obviously checking her out.

I noticed this and scoffed, shaking my head and just looking the other way, too disgusted to keep looking. The waitress finally made her way back to our table, placing Tom's steaming plate in front of him, purposefully leaning over so that her cleavage was more visible to him, a smirk on her lips.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, sweetheart?" She asked him, ignoring me completely. I sighed angrily and spoke up, "my food, where is it?" Tom's eyes flickered to me for a moment before he answered, his tone dripping with annoyance, "it'll be out soon, she can only do so much," he said curtly, his gaze returning to the waitress as she blushed and giggled at his response.

My heart slightly ached at this interaction, why was he acting like this? He's never, and I mean never done something this rude before and borderline disgusting. When my food came she just she just shoved it on the table rudely, dismissing me completely.

Tom dug into his steak with enthusiasm, barely acknowledging the waitresses rude behaviour towards me. "Tom are you joking..did you not see how rude she was to me?" I spoke up after she walked away, "she's just doing her job, you're being too sensitive.." he looked up from his plate, wiping his mouth with his napkin before taking another bite.

She made her way back to us to ask how the food was, making small talk, laughing and flirting openly with each other. It was clear he was enjoying her attention, even if it meant neglecting me completely. I was hurt, deeply hurt. The anger bubbling inside me only seemed to rise when he didn't make an effort to talk to me but seemed to always want to talk to her.

The whole night was just awkward small talk, nothing like our usual conversations, his flirty behaviour continued with the waitress. She was usually the main instigator and he just entertained her behaviour. Once we finished and went to leave he left her a massive tip, 100 dollars on a 67 dollar bill.

As we exited the restaurant, Tom seemed oblivious to my seething resentment. He casually draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close and giving me a soft kiss on my temple as if nothing had happened. "Well that was a great meal, wasn't it babe?" he smirked. I pushed him off, "don't fucking touch me you pig," I murmured and got into the car, slamming the door.

Tom stared incredulously at the slammed door, then slowly climbed into the drivers seat with a bewildered expression. He turned to face me, his brows knitted together, "what's your problem?" he asked, genuinely perplexed by my sudden outburst.

"Are you fucking KIDDING ME?" I snapped, "what's my problem? I'll tell you what my fucking problem is, we barely go on dates and the one fucking time we do you pull some shit like that?" I said, the anger rising in my voice.

Tom knew he was in trouble but his pride got in the way, his expression darkened and for a moment, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, pulling out of the parking lot and driving home. "What are you talking about? I can't help it if the waitress was attracted to me!" he defended himself, his voice rising slightly.

"Oh that's bullshit and you know it, you know I couldn't give less of a shit if she was attracted to you or not, you were entertaining her fucking flirting you asshole! Do I even mean anything to you? You're willing to throw what we have away for some fucking bimbo working as a waitress?" I yelled at him, hurt and anger evident in my tone.

His expression suddenly changed, becoming almost mocking. "Oh so THIS is what it's all about?" he scoffed, his voice dripping to a low whisper. "You're jealous? What? Because some random chick flirted with me and I..may have flirted back?" I shook my head in disbelief, "who even are you right now? You did flirt back, are you fucking kidding me?" I sighed in frustration, rubbing my temples.

It got even worse when we got home, we were screaming at each other, yelling all sorts of things. Then, suddenly I grabbed him, smashing my lips into his roughly. He smirked, satisfied that his plan had worked, he had successfully riled me up. It didn't take him longer than a second to kiss me back, his fingers digging into my skin as he forced his tongue into my mouth, kissing me back with equal anger and passion. He broke the kiss, his chest heaving with anger as he picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder and marching up to the bedroom.

He slammed me down onto the bed, his body covering mine as he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. He breathed heavily, his pupils dilated with a mixture of anger and desire, pressing his weight down onto me as he starts unzipping my dress roughly. "You're so fucking jealous it's cute.." he smirked, "shut the fuck up, asshole," I grumbled angrily, grabbing him by the belt and tugging it off.

He fumbled with my dress and slid it off, growling in delight at the sight of my matching lacy bra and underwear. He practically tore my panties off as I slid his pants off, shoving his boxers down to reveal his hard, throbbing cock. His eyes gleamed with possessive hunger as he looked at me, "fuck..you're so fucking hot when you're angry. It only makes me want you more.." he let out a loud groan as I grabbed his cock, jerking it off furiously.

"What, you think making me jealous by flirting with bimbo waitresses is fucking funny, huh?" I panted, "no" he hissed out between gritted teeth, reaching down and sliding 2 fingers into me, matching my rhythm. "But watching you get all possessive and worked up?" he smirked, "yeah, that's fucking hot.." I glared at him and kept working his cock, my hand pumping up and down continuously.

His pace sped up, fingering me even faster than before. Loud, angry moan escaped the both of us, we both leaned in and kissed each other deeply, our tongues fighting for dominance as the kiss got more heated. "Fucking hate you.." I mumbled against his lips, making him laugh and move his lips to my neck, sucking and biting at the skin.

He continued to finger me aggressively, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit in time with his fingers, "fuck..you're so tight.." he growled, his other hand gripping my hip possessively. I kept jerking him off hard and fast, all my anger going into it which heightened the pleasure even more. His breath hitched, his eyes locked on the scene before him. "Holy fuck...just like that.." he groaned, his free hand coming to wrap around mine, guiding my pace, "don't stop, fuck, just like that!" he roared.

I moaned loudly as he curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside me I loved. He continued his relentless pace, his thumb pressing against my clit as his fingers pump in and out of my dripping cunt. "Look at you..so fucking sexy.." he said, his voice low and husky with lust.

He moved his spare hand up to my hair, grabbing a fist full of it and tugging, exposing my neck to him. He immediately leaned down and left more marks, kissing and sucking the skin like he had before. I whined and moaned, "fuck! Oh my god keep going, I'm so close!" he smirked at my words and doubled his efforts, his fingers moving in and out of my pussy at breakneck speed. "That's it baby, come all over my fingers. Show me how much you love it when I touch this pretty pussy.." he whispered teasingly.

I kept at my pace even though I was struggling to keep up with his, I squeezed his cock and slid my hand up and down his shaft over and over again, making eye contact with him. He groaned loudly, rolling his eyes back as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, spilling his seed all over my stomach.

My orgasm hit not long after, a loud moan escaping me as I spilled my release on his fingers. We both panted, our chests heaving as we tried to calm down from the intense orgasms. Not long after I flipped us both over, forcing him to sit against the headboard. I angrily sat on his cock, riding him hard and fast, his sensitive cock twitching in me.

"You think you can flirt with that stupid waitress and think there will be no consequences, huh?" I growled in his ear, he grunted loudly and his hands flew to my hips, "shit..that's so fucking good.." he smirked, his eyes meeting mine, "punish me then, baby..I'm all yours.." he panted heavily, his eyes glazed over with lust as he watched my breasts bouncing with each aggressive thrust.

He noticed my thrusts faltering, my legs not able to keep up, getting tired very quickly. He moved his hands to rest just below my ass, gripping tightly and slamming me up and down onto his cock, "holy fuck!" I screamed, holding onto him tightly.

He chuckled deeply, loving how I was still so angry but couldn't continue my "punishment". His hands tighten around my ass, pulling me down harder onto his thick length, "you like that? You getting tired already?" he teased, making me glare at him deeply, "shut up..fuck you.." I mumbled, smashing my lips into his and moaning into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at me with fierce intensity. "No more talking baby..just feel.." he grabbed my hips and physically lifted me up, slamming me up and down onto his cock at a brutal pace, the sound of my wet pussy slamming against his thighs filling the room. My moans only got louder and whinier, my arms encircling around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer as he continued to pound into me. He grumbled and left sloppy kisses on my neck and jawline, "this is what you get for ever thinking I'd touch another girl.." he growled, his voice muffled against my skin. I whimpered and moaned, "I'm gonna cum, oh my god! Keep fucking going!" I choked out a sob, the pleasure so good that tears started to roll down my cheeks.

His movements became erratic as he felt me tightening around him, his own orgasm building quickly. "Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock.." he demanded, kissing the tears off my face. He was at this point jackhammering into me, hitting my deepest and most sensitive spots.

After a few more harsh thrusts I cried out, a small stream of clear liquid squirting out of me, taking us both by surprise. His eyes widened in shock as he felt the sudden warmth and sensation of the liquid spurting out onto his cock and stomach, instantly triggering his own orgasm.

Spurts of hot cum shot into me, his grip tightening around me as he pulled me down with him, collapsing into the pillows. He couldn't help but let out a surprised grunt, before a wicked grin spread across his face, "holy shit..did you just squirt..?" he chuckled.

"Shut up!" I whined and looked away, super embarrassed. He chuckled and pulled me into a fierce kiss, his hands cupping my face. "Don't hide that sexy ass face, that was the hottest damn thing I've ever seen.." he smirked, slowly laying back onto the bed and pulling me into his arms, leaving his softening cock inside me.

"But seriously..I know our sex life hasn't been the greatest lately and that's the only reason why you did this whole..situation..but keep this a one time thing only, otherwise I'll literally chop your dick off next time you little drama starter.." I smirked, smacking his arm playfully.

He bursted out laughing, shaking his head as he gazed into my eyes, "yeah..okay babe. One time thing only." his gaze softened as he kept looking at me, "didn't know it would be this damn hot though.." he smirked, teasing me slightly.

"Oh shoosh you perv!" I giggled, rolling my eyes and leaning in to kiss him gently.

tags: @ballhair @bills-wife-1 @bkaulitzlover

tags: @ella1289 @billsdolliest @tomscumdoll

tags: @tomsfuckdoll @tomkslut @miyukafujii

tags: @itsangell

[tanadrin]

Murder mystery is a terrific genre for a series of books, a series of movies, or a TV show--"mystery" or "murder mystery" is itself a great plot, one that's very flexible, but iterating it with an investigator character is a really easy plot generator, plus you can build out fun investigator characters, and leverage the inherent worldbuilding appeal of the murder mystery to drop those investigators in lots of different situations. I have a huge soft spot for murder mystery TV shows in particular, even really bad ones.

What I hate in many contemporary murder mystery TV shows--and this problem also crops up a lot in the related genre of "police procedural"--is a need to continually up the stakes in ridiculous ways, especially around mid-season two parters or season finales. Throwing your precinct homicide detective or quirky private investigator or whatever into big sprawling terrorism plots or having them face off with cheesy serial killers is just boring. Part of this is wasting the potential of the setup--repeat villains are the least interesting part of an inherently episodic format! If you want to write a serial, write a serial! But these also tend to be the least interestingly-written episodes, epsiodes that are leveraging their setup for all the drama rather than the characters, pure informed stakes and no fun dialogue or good lighthearted moments. Just lots of really dull scenes trying to force tension--characters in confined spaces screaming and Tough Guys with Tough Guy Talk--and none of the stuff that I think makes murder mysteries fun.

Not coincidentally, serial killer and terrorist plots are mostly in dialogue with other pop culture depictions of serial killer and terrorist plots--these are things that are phenomenally rare in real life, that are completely obscured in pop culture by the thick crust of sensationalism that has obscured any attempt to deal with them in a realistic way, and are also the subject of major efforts by law enforcement to try to hype up the pop culture depiction vs the reality bc it makes their jobs look way more important and interesting. I would prefer a dozen episodes with stereotypical Italian mobsters over one episode with a terrorist plot or a serial killer, and I hate Italian mobster characters.

[coco-loco-nut]

High Flyer - Part 4

pairing: charles x reader

summary: victory never tasted so sweet

masterlist series masterlist requests open

��——————————

The sunset beams in your face as you walk through the paddock in Qatar. Charles follows close behind, embracing his position as full-time WAG. As soon as you get to your drivers room, you collapse on the couch. Free practice and the sprint have been fine, but now you need to lock in for Qualifying and the race.

You have a comfortable lead in the championship, but that’s all that you are being asked about and it’s tiring. It’s clear to anyone that you’ve encountered that you don’t want to talk. You are in an odd mood, normally you are great with the media.

“What’s on your mind?” Charles asks, pulling you into his arms. You lean into him, relaxing a little but the tension is still there.

You shake your head, not ready to talk about it. Admiting what you are feeling makes you a weak driver, and you can’t be that. Not as a woman. Charles knows you are nervous, so he doesn’t push it. Instead, he rubs small circles on your back, letting the silence in the room provide comfort as your mind races.

“It feels different,” you say, fighting the block in your head that is screaming at you to keep it in. Charles’ hand moves from your back to the back of your neck. Holding you close, he doesn’t reply, but a small hum tells you that you have his attention. You swallow your pride a little more as the subtle encouragement helps you open up. Your voice shakes as you speak, everything suddenly more real. “My nerves are almost paralyzing. I don’t want to get in the car.”

Charles takes a second to consider his response, wanting to make sure you are supported and he says the right thing.

“You are under a lot of stress and pressure, it’s okay to be nervous. You are so close to what you’ve been working for, and you aren’t alone in your fight for it,” Charles says gently, carefully. “You have a whole team, you have me, you have your grid family and your real life family. We are all here for you no matter what happens this week,” Charles feels his heart swell as the tension slowly leaves you, melting into his arms.

“Thank you,” you whisper, tears threatening to escape your eyes. You know he’s seen the articles and quotes regarding your championship fight, he knows the pressure that is on you.

Charles pulls away slightly to get a good look at you. He brushes away an escaped tear, eyes searching yours as he tries to read you.

“You can do this, all you need to do is drive, as easy as breathing for you,” Charles’ reassurance helps you gain confidence.

“Stay with me until I get into the car,” you make him promise you.

“Of course,” Charles’ heart hurts at the thought of you going through this alone. If he hadn’t been honorably discharged and returned to service, how would you find the strength to leave the safety of your room? What scares him more is the idea that you have been in the same situation before and had to deal with it alone.

He watches in admiration at how you are able to get in the zone as you change into your race suit. Charles holds your hand the entire walk to the garage, both of you close as you quietly converse.

Kimi is the only one who interrupts you on the walk, heading to the Mercedes garage himself.

“Good luck, mom,” Kimi hugs you. He has had a great start thanks to you and George, but he isn’t close to you in the standings at all.

“Thanks, Kimi, drive safe,” you hug him back, squeezing tight. You shouldn’t choose favorite children, but the young Italian has slowly wormed his way to being a contender for that top spot. Fans love to speculate who is your favorite grid child. Charles pats Kimi on the back, a small encouragement.

Charles stays with you as you talk to engineers and helps you get ready to get into the car. You stand in the corner of the garage with your gear.

“You are going to do so well,” Charles whispers, his forehead against yours. You tilt your head up, stealing a quick kiss before you put your balaclava and helmet on.

You make it through Q3 easily, starting at P2 on the grid. Charles watches anxiously as the race winds down. The excitement in the garage is palpable. With Oscar behind in P3 and no good chance to overtake you, all you need to do is cross the finish line. Max is in P1, but by bringing the car home you will take the victory.

“She’s incredible,” Arthur says, the cautious optimism as the checkered flag is waving. You have just one more turn as you go through turn 15.

“She did it!” Charles cheers as you cross the line, hugging Arthur who then pulls him with the team to greet you at the barriers.

Your hands shake as you stop the car, sitting in the realization that you’ve accomplished your dream. Once Max has stood atop his car and celebrated, you climb out of yours and carefully balance on top as you celebrate. The roar of the crowd courses through you.

A lot of pressure was on your drive and you couldn’t be more proud. You secured a four-year contract extension with your win and you showed girls that they can succeed.

The air is electric as you jump into your team after getting weighed. You give as many hugs as you can before you go back to drop your equipment. The first person you go to once you get back to the barrier is Charles.

“Thank you for believing in me,” you say before embracing him. Charles holds you tight.

“Always, mon ange,” he grins, pulling you into a kiss. Charles wipes the tears of joy away, letting the team celebrate with you before other drivers steal you for congratulations and other duties.

The interviewer asks questions that you are happy to answer, for once.

“I have so many people to thank. My family, my husband, my grid kids, but most importantly my team. My team has helped me every step of the way and never got discouraged when we finished second in the championship. It’s why I’m so glad that I will be staying with them,” you grin, the cheers from your team filling the paddock. The podium fake champagne never tasted so sweet.

Since you couldn’t properly celebrate in Qatar, Ferrari took the liberty of renting a club not too far from the factory once you returned. It is safe to say that many of the team walked from the club to the factory the next morning, including you.

The following year you made sure to win it in Brazil while also winning the grand prix.

“Congratulations, champ. No one else I’d rather lose the number one to for a second time,” Max shakes your hand, you pull him into a hug as you stand near the bar.

“No one else I’d rather battle. Do you ever feel like we are getting a little old?” you ask, looking at your grid kids dancing and drowning shots like you and Max used to.

“We can still out drink them, we just pace ourselves better now. We also still have many years left of driving to terrorize them,” he pats your shoulder.

“And if this is the last time we are the ones fighting for the title?”

“It always happens this way, they are the next generation. We will be their Fernando’s,” Max smiles at the thought of the grid grandfather and eternal rookie. Fernando just announced his retirement, for good this time, and it’s made many of you stop and think.

“To us. May our livers and racing spirit never die,” you toast, one Max happily returns.

“Sorry to cut in, but I would like to dance with my wife and champion,” Charles steals you away, bringing you back to the floor.

“Charles,” you laugh as he pulls you away.

“Sorry, you just look too good and I had to keep you to myself,” his voice drops a little bit as the lights flash around you. Your Ferrari red minidress hugs your figure just right. It looks stunning in photos as well. You paired it with a white very fluffy coat, which is currently stored in coat check, and matching red heels.

“Stop or else I’ll have to take you home,” you reply, painted red lips brushing his ear.

“You know I am always on board for that, but we are here celebrating you,” Charles replies, clearly restraining himself. Unfortunately for him, your restraint left two drinks ago.

“I’d rather be back at the hotel celebrating, you can celebrate me all night long,” your hips grind against Charles who lets out a soft groan.

“Fuck, I need another drink,” he steps back while he still can stop himself. “Mon amour, you drive me crazy,” he says, kissing you passionately yet briefly before heading to the bar.

You drift to where your grid family is dancing. Ollie grabs your hand, spinning you around a little awkwardly. Your joyful laugh encourages them.

“No mate, you dance like a teenager,” Kimi shakes his head, taking your hands and pulling you to a close yet respectful distance.

“I think you all need to learn how to dance,” you shake your head with a slight laugh.

“I’m here,” Arthur is being carefully followed by a server holding a tray of shots.

“You aren’t Australian, but you could do a shoey,” Oscar says as he hands you a shot from the tray.

“I could, but I don’t have a shoe for it,” you smile, waiting for someone to toast the shot.

“I’ll give you mine, someone get a beer,” Jack says after taking the shot, the server promptly bringing back a beer.

“Hold on,” Ollie and Kimi say almost in unison as they debate who is filming you. Jack slides off a shoe as he takes the open beer. Oscar helps you stand on a table.

“We are good,” Ollie smiles, both him and Kimi’s phones pointed at you. Kimi is taking a video while Ollie takes pictures. Jack hands you his beer filled shoe as the crowd gathers around.

You hold the shoe up in the air before bringing it to your lips. The cold beer goes down quick, helping your buzz grow. The crowd cheers as you pull it away, turning the crisp white shoe upside down to show it is all empty. Oscar and Arthur help you down as Jack puts the shoe back on.

“That’s my mother,” Ollie cheers, high fiving you. Carlos approaches with two drinks in his hand, extending the one to you.

“Not that you need it after chugging a whole shoe of beer, but I told you I’d buy you one,” Carlos laughs as you take a sip.

“Much better than shoe beer,” you grin, quickly turning to Jack who is standing upright. “Thanks for the shoe,” you give him a little salute as you begin to follow Carlos to the drivers your age. As you cross the floor, you chug the drink, a slight burn as it goes down.

“A shoey? I appreciate my legacy being kept alive,” an Australian accent greets you and you perk up.

“Danny!” you slur as you practically jump onto the man.

“Hey, careful. I’m not as young as I used to be,” he laughs, letting you down gently.

You talk for another fifteen minutes and do another round of shots before finding Charles, in the mood to dance. He is chatting with Pierre and you don’t bother cutting in politely. Rather, you grab Charles’ arm as Kika and Pierre laugh at your startled husband.

Charles holds you close, his warm hands resting on the small of your back, threatening to dip lower.

“How are you doing, mon ange?” Charles asks, his small smile lit up by the flashing lights.

“I’m doing great, need you,” you slur, the alcohol and lateness hitting you. It’s late enough that you could go home and no one would bat an eye. You’ve talked to everyone here and

“Wanna get out of here?” Charles eyes darken as you press against him. One nod and he sweeps you off your feet, your head resting against his shoulder.

“Want me to call you an Uber?” Arthur asks as Charles walks past him.

“Please,” Arthur gives a thumbs up, so Charles continues to the coat check. Charles sets you down so you can get your coat.

“Sleep well,” Arthur hugs both of you before you leave to get in the Uber.

Keeping your hands to yourselves for the ten minute ride was possibly the hardest thing you have ever done, but as soon as the hotel suite door is closed, Charles is all over you.

“I’ve been wanting to take this dress off of you all night,” Charles growls, nipping your bottom lip.

“Then take it off,” you gasp. As soon as your clothes are off, Charles rolls off of you. You watch as he stumbles slightly to the suitcase in the corner.

“Where are the-“

“Didn’t pack any. I’m world champion, aren’t I?” the tone of your voice brings him back to you. His hands run up your arms, pinning them above your head.

“God I love you,”

It isn’t too much of a shock when soon after Abu Dhabi and the prize ceremony that you find yourself hugging the toilet.

“You okay?” Charles asks, rubbing you back.

“I gotta call Fred,” you groan. Charles places your phone in your outstretched hand.

“Y/n, what a surprise. How’s your break going?” Fred sounds concerned over the phone,

“It’s going well,” you look at Charles who just gives you a supportive thumbs up. “Listen Fred,” you feel bile rise in your throat and shove to phone to Charles who quickly takes it and steps out so Fred doesn’t hear you puke.

“Y/n?”

“Hey Fred. What she was about to say is that you will need to find another driver for next season,” Charles says awkwardly.

“Ah, congratulations. Why don’t you have her set up a meeting with me in a few weeks and we can discuss it further? Assure Y/n that we will make sure she has a seat next season, Charles,” Fred says, sounding genuine in his promise.

“Thank you, I’ll let her know,” Charles hangs up.

“I never thought the first person I would tell would be Fred,” you groan, head leaning against a cabinet.

“Neither did I. He sends his congratulations. He also wants you to set up a meeting in a few weeks to talk about it, but he assured me that you still have your seat once you return,” Charles says, helping you stand up and return to bed.

“They couldn’t lose their champion that easy,”

“No,” Charles agrees.

The meeting is scheduled and goes well. It was to simply cover how the absence will be announced and how your contract will be renegotiated.

You and Charles decide to host a small holiday party for your grid family right after the new year. You set up a small camera in the living room and make sure it’s recording.

“Presents? Finally,” Arthur practically runs to sit beside the tree, competing with Ollie to see who gets there the fastest. Charles notices how you subconsciously put a hand on your lower stomach and smile.

“Pass them out first,” you chide, sitting beside Charles once all the boys are seated. Arthur passes out the seven identical boxes to their labeled recipient after passing everything else out.

“We are supposed to open these at the same time, no?” Carlos asks, you just nod. The sound of paper tearing fills the room as your grid family opens their boxes.

“Best grid uncle?” Max asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Big brother- OH MY GOD!” Ollie scrambles to his feet to hug you. You can’t help but laugh. Arthur is crying tears of joy on the floor.

“No way I’m the baby’s nephew,” Jack stares at the shirt.

“If I’m the brother, that makes you the nephew,” Oscar pats Jack’s shoulder.

“Wait, you won’t be driving next season?” Kimi asks, his joy replaced with sadness.

“Oh, I’ll be around. Charles can’t keep me away that easily,” your loving smile betrays your words.

“Who’s replacing you?” Arthur asks the question that’s lingering in the air.

“I don’t know, I asked Fred to wait to ask someone until I told you all,” you shrug.

“I’m so happy for you,” Carlos smiles, already planning what gifts he will be getting you.

“Thank you, don’t get too comfortable without me,” you hug your teammate.

It only takes a day for the news to break.

instagram

f1 Breaking: Reigning Champion Y/n Leclerc will not compete in the 2027 season according to Ferrari. More information on our website.

user23 she looked really sick during the prize ceremony, hope everything is okay!

user893 hopefully she returns in 2028!

user31 this is why women shouldn’t drive

scuderiaferrari we are very happy with her as our CHAMPION driver, and we anxiously await her return.

user6 you tell that man, Ferrari

Much to yours and Charles’ delight, Arthur gets offered the opportunity to take your seat for the season. You threatened him to do well or else he will never meet his niece or nephew, but in reality you just want him to succeed so that he gets the chance to race for another team next season when you return.

No one sees you out in public, you and Charles stay home or go places privately. You didn’t post an announcement that you are expecting, instead you left Ferrari state you are taking a temporary medical leave. It’s a nice change of pace. It’s also definitively the longest time the two of you have spent together, and you haven’t driven each other mad. It all changes in May though.

Imola is the perfect place to make your return to the Paddock. You are entering your third trimester and you want to make at least one paddock appearance before you are miserably pregnant.

“Are you sure? We can turn around if you want to,” Charles asks as he parks your Ferrari Roma.

“Do you not want my fans to see what you have done to me?” you tease, hand resting on the baby bump.

“They will hate me for taking away their champion,” Charles grins, clearly not fussed about it.

“It’s okay, we have future champions in the making, made from a championship,” you wink, causing Charles to blush. You think that when you return to racing again, you will have separation anxiety from him. Spending most of your time together has become your normal, and you wouldn’t change it.

“Well, let’s show our little champions off,” you smile. Charles gets out first, quickly rounding the car to help you out. Ferrari sent out a hospitality intern to escort both of you into the paddock. Luckily for you, no cameras notice you in your red dress and Ferrari jacket as you make your way to hospitality. The media is too busy hounding other celebrities here for the race.

“You made it!” Arthur quickly moves to greet you.

“Wow, nothing for your own brother? I see how it is,” Charles shakes his head.

“There she is,” your race engineer greets you with a warm hug.

“Wait until the cameras see me,” you smile, showing off your swollen belly.

“Wait until they see the maternity pictures you just took,” Charles interjects, opening his phone to share.

You had your racing overalls on with a white top, it really turned out nice. It also led to great sex, but no one can tell from the photos. It would be a different story if you had your fireproofs on.

“You’re back!” Ollie runs in, Kimi not too far behind. You assume that Arthur sent out a text letting people know you are here.

“You look great, taking time off from racing is doing you well,” Kimi is quick to hug you. He misses your hugs and cuddles when you aren’t in the paddock. He hates not being able to crash your couch and rant while you play with his curls and offer advice and support. Of all your grid children, Kimi is your baby and he knows it.

Ollie does similar things, which is why they are your twins. Oscar tends to call you or text you when needing advice or a friend, but he has Mark and Jack. Speaking of Jack, he doesn’t usually utilize you like Ollie and Kimi do, but he never turns down your home cooked meals or dinner invites. For him, knowing you are there for support is enough.

“Thank you, Kimi,” you say, straightening his collar as he pulls away. Arthur and Charles are deep in conversation off to the side of the garage.

“Are you excited to be on this side of things?” Ollie asks, vying for your attention.

“I haven’t been on this side since I was in F2. I’ll be so stressed watching you two. My twins,” you want to reach out and pinch their cheeks, they look so cute with their grins. The pregnancy hormones may be starting to get to you.

“Just remember that we, the twins, were here first,” Ollies eyes dart down to where your hand is resting and back up to your face. He notes the small smile on your face.

“Twins?” Ollie asks, eyes wide with excitement.

You nod, smile growing with pride. “Yeah, exciting isn’t it,” there is a lightness to your voice, almost laughing.

“You can create a team for them. Can we take them karting?” Kimi asks, excited at the idea. Your laugh rings through hospitality, catching the eyes of your team.

“Kimi, they haven’t even been born yet, give it a few years at least,” you remind him.

“A few years until what?” Charles sneaks up behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. His arms wrap around you, letting you lean into his chest.

“Until we can take the twins karting,” Ollie answers.

“That will be my job as the biological uncle,” Arther frowns.

“None of you are taking my kids karting until I take them karting,” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Arthur, time to go to the garage,” Carlos enters the room, not looking up from his phone.

“Is it really?” as soon as you speak Carlos looks up, eyes widened in a mixture of shock and happiness.

“Amiga, I heard you were coming to visit but I didn’t know when,” Carlos crosses the room quickly, the garage report all but forgotten.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you smile as you step out of Charles’ arms to give the Spaniard a hug.

“You should join us in the garage,” Carlos insists.

“You go, I’ll stay here for a bit so you can catch up,” Charles smiles, not bothered.

“We will see you later,” Kimi waves goodbye as he and Ollie leave. They don’t want to get accused of spying, even if they were only in Ferrari to see you.

You are sandwiched between Arthur and Carlos as you step out of Ferrari, the warm May air greeting you with a pleasant breeze.

“Aren’t you worried the press will see you?” Arthur asks, a little protective as he glances around the paddock.

“If I were worried, I wouldn’t be here. Now, which one of you is going to win so I can sing the Italian National Anthem with the Tifosi,” you grin, looping your arms through theirs.

“Me, of course,” Carlos states. You hear a camera shudder as you get closer to the garage and know it’s only a matter of time before your secret is out. The Ferrari social media team has already taken plenty of pictures and videos of your return.

“You better keep the promise. I expect a 1-2 and nothing less,” you insist, adding a second thought, “and a repeat at Monza.”

“You ask a lot, dear sister, but I think we can do it,” Arthur laughs. He’s done a great job to start the season and you’ve been hoping he signs for someone next season.

“Good,” you listen to the two boys converse with a small smile on your face. You can’t lie and say you did not miss it. The three of you get stopped by drivers a few times before reaching the garage, simply wanting to say hello and check in with you.

“My star driver,” Fred greets you jovially. The whirring of the machines seem to pause as your presence is recognized in the garage.

“Hello, Fred. Miss me much?” you grin.

“Of course. You better be ready to return next season,” he says expectantly. For a moment you forgot he was your boss and not an old friend. Your cheeks slightly flush with embarrassment, wanting to end the awkward change in conversation tone.

“Yes, I’ve been staying active and working out as much and as safely as I can,” you state, your tone indicating that the conversation was over. You spend time talking with your engineers and mechanics, catching up on their lives and the season.

As the day progresses, you return to Hospitality where Charles awaits you. All you want to do is sit down, maybe take a nap, and have a snack. Your back hurts and your ankles are a bit swollen.

“How was the garage?” Charles asks, setting down the book he was reading.

“It was good, I caught up with the team,” you yawn as you sit on one of the very comfortable couches.

“I’ll go grab you a snack, why don’t you take a quick nap? There’s about half an hour before we need to go to the garage,” Charles suggests, reading your mind. You nod, feeling tired enough to doze off immediately.

About fifteen minutes later, Charles gently wakes you. You softly thank him as you take the plate of food, eating what you can quickly. Before you know it, Charles is walking to the garage with you. The team set up a folding chair and pillow so you can be more comfortable. Unfortunately for Charles, he has to stand.

You notice the camera on the screen enter the Ferrari garage, and before you have a moment to find where they are, you are on the screen. Charles stands beside you protectively, his right hand resting on your shoulder. You turn to the camera and wave, your PR smile in full force.

You can hear the roar of the Tifosi as you are on the screen, La Predestina being shouted out. It’s both heartwarming and a little embarrassing.

“Destiny,” Charles leans down, smile playing on his lips as he recalls the call sign you were given when the two of you first met.

“Perceval,” you reply, moving your hand so it can rest on Charles’. The embarrassment turned into pride, knowing how loved you are by the fans even if you aren’t racing at the moment.

You were instantly trending within the Formula One community. The news of your pregnancy and paddock return being celebrated by most fans. Of course there were some who wanted to use it against you, but you grew thick skin ages ago.

You find yourself swept up in a sea of red, cheering for the Ferrari 1-2 podium. Charles stands close to you, blocking you from the crowd with the help of your team.

“Still remember the words?” one of the engineers teases you in italian.

“A memoria,” you smile, happily linking arms with the team to sing out the anthem. It’s a weird sensation, being on the other side of the podium. You are grateful for how the team has included you in the weekend, but there is a pang of longing as you look at the podium. The tifosi should be cheering for you, it should be you standing with the medal around your neck looking out over the crowd.

Charles holds you close as you walk back to the garage, offering silent support. It didn’t take a genius to notice your longing stare.

“Can we go home,” you whisper in the car after having an early dinner with Arthur.

“Is everything okay?” Charles asks, starting the car. Concern fills his green eyes as he looks across the car, his hand lifting slightly from the gear stick. Your eyes are trained out the window, body angled slightly away. You don’t speak for a moment.

“I don’t know,” your voice is thick, tears sting at the corners of your eyes but don’t flow. Charles wants to push, but he doesn’t, knowing you will be unresponsive. He sets off back to France.

The ride is silent beyond the music playing and the sound of the road underneath the car. It doesn’t change when you get home, you both silently go through your nighttime routines. Charles attempts to get you to speak, but you don’t.

As you lay in bed, darkness surrounding you, Charles hears your soft cries. You do everything in your power to suppress it, but you can’t. Charles silently rolls towards you, reaching out to hold you and comfort you, but you just move away. You’ve had fights before, but this is different.

“Mon ange,” Charles whispers pleadingly but gets no answer. Neither of you know how you fell asleep.

Charles notices your silent avoidance of both him and the room your sim is set up in, your office. He catches your longing glances at it and your haste to look away when you realize. Around noon he gets fed up. He finds you sitting on the couch reading.

“Mon ange,” he says, trying to catch your attention, but you don’t look up. Your eyes remain trained on the book in your hands. You haven’t flipped the page in almost ten minutes. “Y/n,” Charles tries again, voice louder with irritation.

“What, Charles?” you slam the book down on the coffee table in front of you.

“Why are you ignoring me? One minute everything is fine and the next you are shut down,” he huffs, frustration and anger bubbling up.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine,” you brush it off, knowing it’s a lie.

“No, you aren’t. I notice things. Like how you didn’t do your morning workout, or how you’ve been avoiding your office. Why are you lying?” Charles steps closer to you, the tension in the room heightens with each step.

“I’m not lying!” Lie.

“You are, and you are avoiding me like I’m the problem,” you stand up as he speaks, grabbing your book, ready to relocate to a different part of the house.

“God, can’t a woman have a moment of peace? Be alone for a minute?” you cynically laugh, starting to walk away as Charles catches your arm.

“You don’t get to walk away. Not when this attitude is affecting everything,” Charles says, looking you in the eyes. Your eyes flicker from him to your office to your baby bump.

“I can’t talk about this right now,” your voice cracks as you gently pull your arm from Charles’s grasp. You leave the room in an uncomfortable silence. Charles plops down onto the couch, sighing with his head in his hands.

The two of you avoid each for a few more hours before guilt gnaws at both of you. Charles is once again the one to find you, bringing a cup of tea as a peace offering. You are on a swing, on the porch in your backyard. The fresh air helping to clear your mind as you gently rock back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” you beat him to the apology.

“I shouldn’t have instigated the fight, you clearly didn’t want to talk about it,” Charles shakes his head, setting the mug down beside you.

“And I shouldn’t have gaslit you. I just have a lot of feelings and I don’t know how to handle them. It’s all a bit embarrassing,” you pat the cushion next to you, inviting Charles to be the closest to you that he’s been since the race.

“You don’t have to talk about it yet if you don’t want to,” Charles follows your cues, he doesn’t want to chalk anything up to being pregnancy hormones. You nod, allowing a more comfortable silence to fill the air as you reacclimatize to his presence. There’s a part of you that wants to resist and be stubborn, but you can’t help but relax when he is close.

“I’m ashamed at the feelings I had during the podium and the spiral that came with it,” you say, fighting the urge to lock up again. Charles doesn’t reply, mainly because he isn’t sure what to say that will be a comfort.

After a few seconds you choose to elaborate. “I felt this resentment at the babies, even at you, for not being able to drive. Seeing the podium as a fan and not as the driver on the top step was hard,” saying it out loud makes you feel stupid, like you should know better.

“That’s natural. You never really grieved the loss of your passion, even if it is temporary,” Charles takes a tentative move towards you. He wraps his arms around you, breaking any lasting tension between you.

“I just feel so stupid,” you fight the tears welling up. That you can blame on your hormones.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” Charles grins, pressing a kiss to your hair. You can’t help but laugh, even as tears trickle down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair to blame you for my inability to drive,” you apologize again, linking your hand with his.

“Oh no, it is one hundred percent fair. I’m proud to be the reason that you can’t drive. Maybe repeating that reason will make you feel better?” Charles suggests, running his free hand up and down your body while lifting your linked hands to his lips.

“Charles!”

[carinazvoid]

Carina Deluca x reader

Just plain fluff

Carina DeLuca had a way of making even the most ordinary moments feel extraordinary. It wasn't just her Italian charm or her impeccable sense of style; it was the way she made you feel seen, valued, and understood. Today was no different. You were sitting together on a blanket spread out on the grass in a secluded corner of the park, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow over everything.

"I love this spot," Carina said, lying back and looking up at the canopy of leaves above. "It feels like we're hidden away from the rest of the world."

You smiled, adjusting your position to get more comfortable beside her. "Yeah, it's perfect. Just you and me."

She turned her head to look at you, her dark eyes softening as they met yours. "Exactly how I like it."

Moments like these were your favorite. Quiet, simple, and filled with the kind of intimacy that only came from truly knowing and trusting each other. You reached over and laced your fingers with hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. It was a small gesture, but one that held so much meaning.

"So," she began, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "what do you want to do today? We have the whole day to ourselves."

You shrugged, content just to be in her presence. "Honestly? I'm happy just being here with you. Maybe we can get some ice cream later?"

Her eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. "Gelato! Let's get gelato. I'll make sure you get the real Italian experience."

You laughed, knowing how passionate she was about her heritage. "Deal. But only if you teach me a few more Italian words while we eat."

She sat up, her excitement palpable. "Oh, you have no idea what you've just signed up for. By the end of the day, you'll be speaking fluent Italian."

You raised an eyebrow, amused by her enthusiasm. "Is that a challenge?"

"Absolutely," she replied, leaning in closer. "And I never back down from a challenge."

Her lips brushed against yours in a soft kiss, the kind that left you craving more but also perfectly content in the moment. When she pulled back, her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ti amo," she whispered.

"I love you too," you replied, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you.

The afternoon passed in a blissful blur. You talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories, dreams, and secrets under the shade of the trees. At one point, Carina pulled out a small notebook from her bag and started sketching the view, her brow furrowed in concentration as she captured the essence of the scene.

"You never told me you could draw," you said, watching her in admiration.

She looked up, a hint of shyness in her expression. "It's just a hobby. Something I do to relax."

"Well, you're really good at it," you said, genuinely impressed. "Can I see?"

She handed you the notebook, and you marveled at the intricate details she had managed to capture. "Wow, this is beautiful. You have such a talent."

"Grazie," she said softly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm glad you like it."

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass, you decided it was time for gelato. Carina led the way to a little Italian café she had discovered, tucked away in a side street. The place was charming, with colorful decorations and the rich aroma of freshly made pastries wafting through the air.

"Buonasera, Carina!" the owner greeted her warmly. "E chi è questa bella ragazza?"

Carina beamed, introducing you in rapid Italian. You could pick out a few words here and there, enough to understand that she was telling him how special you were to her.

The owner, a jovial man with a thick accent, smiled at you. "Ah, molto bene! Welcome, welcome. You must try our gelato. It's the best in the city."

Carina insisted on picking the flavors for both of you, and soon you were sitting outside the café with a generous portion of gelato in front of you. She watched with anticipation as you took your first bite, waiting for your reaction.

"Oh my god," you said, your eyes widening in delight. "This is amazing."

She laughed, clearly pleased. "Told you. Nothing beats real Italian gelato."

You spent the rest of the evening strolling through the city, hand in hand, exploring little shops and enjoying the warm, summer air. Carina took you to all her favorite spots, sharing bits of history and culture with each place you visited. It was like seeing the city through her eyes, and it made everything feel new and exciting.

By the time you returned to your apartment, it was late, but neither of you felt tired. You curled up on the couch together, wrapped in a cozy blanket, and talked about your plans for the future. Carina's head rested on your shoulder, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like to live in Italy?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "Especially when you talk about it. It sounds like a dream."

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with hope. "Maybe one day we can make that dream a reality."

You kissed her forehead, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I'd like that. As long as I'm with you."

Carina smiled, snuggling closer. "I feel the same way."

As you sat there, wrapped up in each other, you realized that it didn't matter where you were or what you were doing. As long as you had Carina by your side, every moment was special. She was your home, your safe haven, and your greatest adventure all rolled into one.

And that was more than enough.

The night grew darker, and eventually, you both drifted off to sleep, still wrapped in each other's arms. The world outside continued on, but in that moment, all that mattered was the love you shared and the promise of many more beautiful days to come.

[no2ticonderoga]

Well, the first part went over so well, I guess you can have another chunk.

1948

“Heads up!” 

Annabeth ducked under the swinging lumber as she hurried across the stage toward the house. “Leo!” she called. “Leo! Where are you?” she called out.

“Up here, Princess.” His muffled voice came from somewhere above her. 

She squinted up toward the balcony, and finally spotted him among the lighting grid. “I need to talk to you.”

“It’s going to have to wait until I come down,” he called back. “I’m a bit busy at present.”

“How long are you going to be?” Annabeth asked. “I really need to talk to you before…”

“No! No!” a new voice called, and Annabeth winced. “Where is that set designer?”

Annabeth jerked, and scrambled off the stage into the wings, hoping to avoid being seen. No luck.

“Ah, there you are, Annibelle,” Mr. D, the director said. “I wanted to talk to you about changes to the design for the second act. 

“Yes, Mr. D,” Annabeth said. 

“It needs to be more…grandiose. It should take the audience away, immerse them!”

Three days ago, Mr. D had told her that the design needed to be minimal, to draw the focus to the actors. Annabeth took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. “Yes, Mr. D,” she replied.

The pudgy man sighed. “You know, Ainsley, I just don’t know if you have the vision for this kind of work.”

“I’m sure I can work out something,” Annabeth replied through her clenched smile. “I’ve got some sketches already. I thought that you might like to see options, so I did more than one design.” They were the designs she’d already shown. him, that he’d rejected in favor of his minimalist approach. But he wouldn’t remember anyway. Annabeth had been working for him for over a year now, and she knew how to deal with him. 

“Oh, very good, very forward thinking. Yes, please bring them to me as soon as you can,” Mr. D breezed. “Now, where is that technician?” 

Annabeth escaped, while Mr. D went in search of Leo. 

“He’s in a mood, isn’t he?” Reyna asked.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it….stay out of his line of sight, or he might decide he wants you to redo the choreography for the whole first act.”

“I might pour rat poison in his coffee,” Reyna deadpanned. Annabeth laughed, and continued backstage. 

She found Piper’s dressing room and let herself in. Piper wasn’t there, but Annabeth sat at the small desk that Piper let her use and started sorting through the set designs that Mr. D had already rejected so she could give him a new one.

She sighed and leaned back in the chair, rubbing her temples. 

She had never expected to get a real architect’s job out of college, not at first. But she’d needed to get out of New York. When her father had offered to let her join him in Europe, after the war ended, she’d jumped at the chance. She’d spent almost a year helping him with his work on the Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives unit. Given a colonel’s commission in the Army, her dad had been in charge of the Greek and Roman section, working to recover and repatriate artifacts looted by the Germans and Italians. She’d enjoyed working with him, but she’d kept looking for a job.

But the firm in San Francisco had seemed so promising, at least at first. She’d returned to the states with her father when his group had been disbanded, and then moved to the West Coast.  She’d been given a ‘Junior Architect’ title, though her actual job had been little better than a secretary. She’d met Luke, and they’d gone on some dates…dinner, dancing, picnics in the park. She thought maybe she could see a future with him. Sure, he was bit older, but he was well established. 

And then she saw the plans for the building he was working on. 

It had been her design. Done up after hours, she’s been quietly saving it to show to her boss when she thought the time was right. She’d shown it to Luke, and he had liked it.

And then he’d stolen it.

She confronted him about it, and he’d laughed. He told her she should be grateful, because it was the only way her designs would ever get built. 

She’d been so mad, she’d thrown her drink in his face, and then she’d slapped him, for good measure. She’d gone back to her apartment, written her letter of resignation, packed her meager belongings in her valise and bought a ticket for the next eastbound train leaving the station. Her phone had started ringing while she was packing, so she’d ripped the cord from the wall. She didn’t want to talk to Luke, she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone. 

She mailed her resignation, and her notice of departure to her landlord on the way to the train station, and boarded a train that would take her as far as St. Louis. She’d had to spend the night in the train station before getting another train to New York the following morning. She’d called her father from St. Louis, and thank God he hadn’t asked too many questions, only agreed to make sure anything she’d left behind was collected, and to get the San Francisco bank to close her account and wire her money to New York. 

She’d only gone home to her father’s long enough to get in touch with Piper. Piper, who had just been cast in High Button Shoes, had made room in her apartment for Annabeth, and was honestly glad to have someone to share rent with. She’d also helped Annabeth find a job. The closest thing to what she’d trained to do: set design. 

At first, it had been a challenge. She’d not really designed interior spaces before, but she found it interesting. Particular when she’d had to design spaces to create the illusion of more space. She’d worked on several plays, including A Streetcar Named Desire. Piper’s star had been rising for years, getting her start in the chorus of Annie Get Your Gun, then being asked to audition for Brigadoon, and finally moving on to High Button Shoes. But when Piper had been asked to join the original cast of this new show as the headliner, she’d suggested Annabeth as set designer and the producers had agreed. It should have been a triumph.

Except, so far, it somehow wasn’t. 

Annabeth gave a little jump when the dressing room door opened, but it was only Piper. “Hi,” Annabeth called.

“You look awful,” Piper said, shutting the door behind her and locking it. She began to change out of her dress into rehearsal wear. She must have gone out for lunch. 

“Thanks,” Annabeth said dryly. 

“What happened?” she asked.

“Oh, the usual. Mr. D being his typical, charming self.”

“Oh God,” Piper groaned. “THat’s not what I want to hear today. He’s supposed to be coming to rehearsal this afternoon to see how the duet is coming. Between him and my co-star, I’m not sure I can take it.”

“Where did you go for lunch?” Annabeth asked.

“Just around the corner, nothing fancy. I just needed to get out of here. I looked for you before I left.”

“It’s okay. I should get something, though. Did you have to eat alone?”

“No,” Piper grinned. “I ran into Jason.”

Annabeth snorted. “I’m glad I wasn’t there, then,” she said.

If Piper had a leg up because her dad had been a vaudeville star, Jason Grace, son of film actress Beryl Grace, was even better connected. Possessed of strong good looks, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a stirling war record as a fighter pilot, he was absolutely on his way to the top. And he probably had more talent than most. The fact that he hadn’t been cast as the lead in this show was only because Octavian still had more name draw. So he was second billing, playing Octavian’s friend.

The trouble was, that he and Piper had more chemistry both on and off stage than Piper had with Octavian at all, a fact which had not escaped Octavian’s notice. Not that he was interested in Piper romantically, but he was jealous of their easy rapport. He’d tried to get Jason fired, Annabeth had heard, but the producers had smacked his hand over it. Which hadn’t helped his feelings for him either.

Annabeth liked him. But that didn’t mean she wanted to sit through a whole lunch with Piper and Jason flirting. 

“We were fine,” Piper protested. She came over to lean on the back of Annabeth’s chair. “We would have behaved ourselves for you.”

Annabeth gave Piper a look. She was pretty sure Piper hadn’t taken Jason to bed yet, though it was probably only a matter of time. Piper had had many partners in the time they’d known each other, both men and women. Annabeth had been shocked at first, but she’d grown accustomed to it. Annabeth supposed it was Piper’s upbringing in the freer, wilder world of the theatres. Annabeth was still a virgin, and never more grateful that she was. Luke had tried it on a couple of times, but she’d resisted. There hadn’t been any other men she’d been close to. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But..

No, she wasn’t going there. No. Not going to think about it.

She sighed. “Maybe I’ll try and save you by distracting Mr. D with new set sketches, and he won’t make it to your practice.” 

“I’ll buy you dinner if you do,” Piper promised. “And maybe I’ll see if Jason has any friends he can introduce you to.” 

“No, Piper,” Annabeth said firmly. 

“Annabeth, you’re 25, going on 26. You should find someone.”

“You don’t have anyone,” Annabeth pointed out.

Piper shrugged. “But I like being single, and besides, I have Jason right now.”

“Is he the one?” Annabeth asked.

Piper shrugged. “We’ll see. I like him And stop changing the subject. We’re talking about how you’re going to mend your broken heart.”

“I am not broken hearted about Luke the ass.”

“Not who I was talking about,” Piper said in a sing-song voice.

“Stop,” Annabeth demanded. It came out more harshly than she intended. 

Piper’s expression and voice softened. “Oh, sweetie,” she brushed Annabeth’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth resolutely took a deep breath and rose. “I’m fine.” She gathered up her sketches, and turned to go.

“Hey,” Piper called as she reached the door. 

Annabeth hesitated. “Yeah?” she turned to look at her best friend. 

Piper’s face clearly warred with what she was going to say, but finally she just said. “Do you want to get dinner later?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“I’ll see you later, then,” Piper said. 

Annabeth left. 

The corridor outside the dressing rooms was deserted, so Annabeth stood there for a long minute, taking deep breaths.

She was always of two minds. On one hand she got angry. Angry that she’d been taken in by pretty words and dazzling smile, and gorgeous green eyes, and been nothing more than an afternoon’s diversion for a man who probably had a girlfriend in every port. A way to pass the time before he’d shipped out. 

On the other, there was a broken place in her soul where she believed that her one true love, the man she should have been fated to marry, had left New York that night and gone overseas, and been killed before he’d even had a chance to write to her.  

She wasn’t sure which was worse, honestly. 

She took a final deep breath to steady herself, and then headed back toward the stage. Maybe this time, Mr. D wouldn’t change his mind again. 

[honestlyspookytyphoon]

Then why are you here?

Summary: Y/N attends the national premiere of a sports documentary and Charles cannot help but fall for her. But does Y/N feel the same?

Word count: +/- 1.2k

Author’s note: I gave the story a little twist, but I hope you like it! English is not my first language so sorry for any bad writing and spelling mistakes. It took longer than expected, but work was a pain…

Warning: None, I guess?  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a rainy and cold evening in November. The street were covered in darkness, although it was just over 5 p.m. The thermometer outside the pharmacy a little further down the street indicated 9°C, which was a normal temperature this time of year in other parts of Europe but it was highly uncommon in the small Mediterranean princedom.

Charles sighed. After a long and exhausting day, he wanted nothing more than to stay home and enjoy the comfortable warmth and quietness of his own apartment. But he could not because, tonight, the Ferrari documentary premiered in Monaco. It was a beautiful documentary about the history of Ferrari in F1, starting with the introduction of the legendary Italian brand to racing and over the numerous WDC’s and successes to the rather saddening truth of today.

Charles usually did not mind attending official events, especially when they were this close to his home. He was proud to be a Ferrari driver and held font memories of his time as member of the Ferrari Driver Academy. He never had to worry about what he should wear, practically having an Armani suit for every day of the year. He never had to worry about not knowing anyone or feeling out of place, since it were mostly him and Carlos people were waiting for.

Of course, the 2023 was not going great at all, but Charles knew how to put things into perspective. It sucked, sure, but every F1 team has had one or more seasons in which things did not go well and Charles had been through worse in his life. Also, the PR team of Ferrari had made clear to the press that tonight should be about the rich history of the brand and that questions about the ongoing season could be asked at other times.

Then why was Charles not so keen on getting ready?

He could blame it on the fact that his mom and brothers would not be there. He could blame it on the weather or the rigorous training Mattia had put him through today. He could blame it on the lack of rest he has had recently, that the constant travelling got to him. Deep down, however, Charles knew the real reason and he almost felt pathetic about it. Tonight would just be another event he attends alone, without a plus one. Charles normally did not mind being single that much – he had a great circle of family and friends – but at nights like this, he did.

It was during moments like this that he wanted to be more like Pierre. His best friend, but also the biggest Casanova he knew. Ever since childhood, Charles and Pierre both have had a more than fair share of female attention but both coped with it differently.

Charles has always been the serious one, the one being in long-term relationships. Charles met beautiful women every day, but he did not go any further unless he knew it could be more. Pierre, however, was the complete opposite. He was the textbook definition of a player and never hesitated to use his fame and money to get the girl he wanted. Like yesterday, when he texted Charles that he fixed a date for tonight. He met her in a club and sealed the deal less than one hour in. “It could be a fling, it could be more, but whatever it is, we at least had a fun time together”, Pierre said. And sometimes, Charles wished he could look at it the same way.

The alarm beeped. 6 p.m. Time to get ready.

.....

The red carpet went better than expected and the documentary was beautiful. Now that the press and fans were gone, Charles felt like he could finally relax. He went to the bar to get a drink for him and Sebastian when he spotted her.

She caught his eye already earlier that night, when he saw her searching for her seat. Charles thought she was stunning. She was wearing a black silk blouse, dark green wide leg trousers and a pair of solid black heels, adding a good 7 cm to her height if Charles had to guess. He liked that she did not wear any red, as almost all of the other guests did. She had finished off her look with some subtle jewellery and her hair was styled in a messy bun, which accentuated her gorgeous facial features. He got himself wondering who she was, as the after-party was F1-exclusive and he was sure that he would have remembered meeting her at the track.

During his conversation with Sebastian, he could not focus; she was all he could think of. When Charles once again nodded at the wrong time, Sebastian had enough. “Oh god, Charles, just go”, he snickered, “instead of standing here, pretending to be interested in my stories. Ask for her name. She is here alone it seems, and I am sure she would like to talk to you. So…”  Charles even did not wait for Sebastian to finish his sentence.

“Hi”, Charles said.

“Oh, hi”, she answered.

A solid 30 seconds past without Charles saying anything. Y/N started to think that he had mistaken her for somebody else.

“I am sorry. Are you looking for someone else?”, she asked.

“No”, Charles replied, “I…I wanted to meet you, actually.”

“Really? Okay.”

“Yeah, it’s just…this after-party is exclusively for people linked to F1 and I haven’t seen you before, that’s all”, he rambled. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks. Dammit

“You’re right”, she admitted, “I have nothing to do with F1 actually…or not for now, at least.”

Charles was visibly confused. “Then why are you here?” A pause. “I am sorry, that came out wrong”.

“It’s fine. I am an acoustical engineer and Mr. Vaseur invited me to see if I have any interest in joining the team in Maranello. Instead of telling me why to choose for Ferrari, he suggested that I came to watch the documentary”, she said, “and I’ll admit that I am impressed.”

“My name is Y/N by the way. Very nice to meet you, Charles”, she reached out her hand, “I am a fan.”

“Nice to meet you to, Y/N, and I am glad to hear that!”  He could feel his mojo coming back.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“The drinks are free here, Charles”, she laughed, “but I would love to have a drink with you.”

Charles and Y/N continued to talk for the rest of night.

.....

“And that, Y/D/N, is how I met your mother”, Charles said, tickling the belly of his newborn daughter who was lying in his arms.

 “Oh god, Charles”, Y/N chuckled, “She is just 2 months old. She doesn’t get it.”

“I don’t care, Y/N, I like the story and she does too. Look how calm she is!” he said.

“It seems to me that you are the only one not enjoying it”, he hinted, “and I am offended, Y/N!”

Charles brought his hand to his chest, faking to be heartbroken.

“You know I love it, Charles. And you know I love you, too, so much”, Y/N said, draping her arms around his shoulders.

“What will you do when Y/D/N is all grown up and doesn’t want to hear the story anymore, like never?”, Y/N teased.

“She won’t. But if she would…”, Charles said, turning his head to face his beautiful wife, “I guess we’ll have to make another mini-us to pass the story onto.”

[darksigns-exe]

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

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

word count: 3.2k

masterlist | Part 1 | taglist sign-up

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pet name always makes him shudder a little. 

“Door’s open.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m still thinking about it.” 

“Her?”

“That entire night.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jolly guides him into their bedroom, hands still interlinked. 

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

He feels dizzy with it already. 

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

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

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

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

“Lift your hips for me, love.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More — I need more.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@shilohrosechicken

[issuesdolly]

Jonathan Davis Protects You From Your Creepy Ex

Warning: Smut, foreplay, fingering, male/female sex, unprotected sex, p in v, finishing inside, edging. Mildly violent diaglogue (NOT IN A SEXUAL CONTEXT but in the dramatic context of the story where JD is confronting the ex-boyfriend).

#jonathandavis  #jonathan davis #korn #jon davis #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #fem reader #x reader #edging #edginganddenial #jondavis #romantic

Summary: You are Jonathan’s girlfriend. Your relationship has been going well for a long time. So far, it’s been you who has had to deal with jealousy/insecurity as so many people adore Jonathan. You & he trust each other, but for once, the shoe is on the other foot when your ex boyfriend reappears, trying to reconnect with you. Jonathan feels insecure and protective of you. You do your best to reassure Jonathan you didn’t intend to rekindle anything with your ex. At the same time, Jonathan spots your ex’s manipulative/stalkerish behavior before you do. Jon is not controlling of you, so he tries to stay out of it. When you and Jon realize your ex is aggressively creeping on you, you try to cut ties. Your ex won’t take a hint, so Jonathan has to step in.  

Preface: If you like pure NAUGHTY fanfics that get “straight to the point” (romance + sex with JD) feel free to check my others. I felt like there’s only so much I can do THOSE…I wanted to write something that includes more emotional/personal themes, although there’s DEFINITELY sex in this one haha. This fic was inspired by a moment in the Korn MTV Diary where JD talked about getting jealous/protective when his fiance got hit on/disrespected by a guy. My stories portray JD as super confident/sexy but in real life, he’s just a dude who can get insecure/protective of his girl as well. Wanted to explore that. This fanfic is also based on a true story from my life. Hope you enjoy it. 

Story: 

You and Jonathan are finishing dinner at one of your favorite out of the way Italian restaurants. He had reserved a private booth in the balcony wing, away from people so your dinner wasn’t disturbed. However, you knew when you went downstairs, some people were bound to spot Jonathan. Sure enough, as the two of you held hands and walked downstairs, some people spotted him out. You decided to take this moment to head to the bathroom and let him deal with the swarm.  

“I’ll be right back, sweetie, bathroom,” you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Ok, sorry about this,” Jon whispered to you, returning your kiss with a quick one on your lips. 

On your way back from the bathroom, you decided to hang back by the barstools instead of awkwardly standing next to him. You’d basically just be in the way as people tried to get their picture with him or have him sign something. Suddenly you felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, you couldn’t believe your eyes. It was your ex-boyfriend, Zane. 

“Zane? Is that you?” you said in shock.

“HI!!” Zane said, as his eyes lit up. 

He took a step towards you like he wanted a hug, but you took a step back. The two of you stood awkwardly smiling for a moment. 

“Wow, didn’t expect to see you here,” you blurted out. 

“Yeah! Didn’t expect to see you either! How are you?” Zane asked. 

“I’ve been good. You… you look so different!,” you admitted. During your relationship, Zane drank constantly and always looked run down. Currently, he looks far healthier. 

“Right? Well, I’ve been sober for the last year,” Zane boasted. 

“Oh man, I’m so happy to hear that. Seriously. Proud of you,” you said. 

“Thank you. I’m doing a LOT better,” Zane continued. “So you’re…. Still with Jonathan huh?” 

“You know about all that?” you asked, surprised. 

“Yeah, I mean…. I don’t follow his music. NOT my thing. But, your name and face pops up online with him enough that I- uh…. Took notice. Wow. Being with a celebrity. That must be a huge adjustment for you,” Zane said. 

“Yeah! It’s a lot. But he’s well worth it,” you state proudly.

You looked over at Jonathan as he stood awkwardly, trying to wrap up the schmoozing. Jonathan stole a glance at you. His big smile faded as he saw this guy standing rather close to you. Your smile faded also. It was like you could read his mind: “who the fuck is that standing with you?” 

Zane looked over at Jon with a shitty smirk on his face, before putting a hand on your shoulder. You turned back at Zane, surprised he just touched you. 

“Well! Good for you. I’m sure whenever you manage to get him to yourself, you guys have a nice time,” Zane said in a chastising manner. 

“Jon makes plenty of time for the two of us,” you retorted, while stepping away from Zane’s grasp. 

“You know, I’d love to catch up with you more sometime,” Zane said, boldly. 

Out of nowhere, you felt Jonathan standing next to you. Jon’s eyes bore into Zane as he stood there, wordlessly. 

“Jon! This is Zane, my uh…..” you said, trying to spit out the words “ex-boyfriend.” 

“Zane… yeah, I remember you mentioned a Zane….hello Zane…..” Jon said in a low, monotone voice. 

“Hey dude, nice to meet you,” Zane said, disingenuously. 

Jonathan just wordlessly nodded his head. Neither Jon, nor Zane outstretched a hand for a civil handshake. 

Jonathan hates fake “nice to meet you” pleasantries and fakeness in general. Instead, Jon stood still, head slightly tilted, with a dead face. He was staring HARD at Zane. Looking at your ex, Jonathan immediately recalled everything you had told him about Zane. Your 2-year relationship had been full of Zane manipulating and gaslighting you. When you and Jon discussed past relationships, it was definitely a topic that had made you break down crying. Jonathan had comforted you as you recalled the bad memories and reassured you he would NEVER treat you how Zane had. 

Jonathan was doing his BEST to be civil. However, it was hard for him to hold back anger, standing in front of the man who hurt you. You put your hand into Jonathan’s and Jon turned to face you. He could feel your palms were cold and sweaty. This situation was awkward for everyone involved. 

“Listen, we need to get going, but it was nice seeing you, Zane,” you said. 

“Yeah you too,” Zane said. 

You and Jonathan walked out of the restaurant. Jonathan, on his way out, stole a glance back at Zane. Zane gave Jon another shitty smirk and sly hand-wave goodbye. Jon’s eyes flared and he let out a huff/sniff, turning back around and heading out the door with you. 

The car ride back with Jonathan was damned awkward. You decided to break the silence by just confronting the situation head on: 

“Well that was really awkward. I’m sorry about that, Jon, I really didn’t expect to run into him” you said. 

“Yeah, I gotta say I always pictured him as a massive douche. He definitely lived up to my mental image,” Jon said quietly. 

“He’s sober now at least, so… hopefully he’s getting his life on track,” you said, trying to diffuse the conversation. 

Jonathan was silent, breathing angrily. Jon was baffled that after everything Zane had done to you, you cared about his well-being. He felt that you were WAY too forgiving. 

Eventually Jon broke the silence. “Yeah well, I get it, I was a mess before I got sober. But…. people can only change so much,” Jon said, reflecting. 

The two of you got home and went inside. You went into the kitchen. You had skipped dessert at the restaurant and felt like having some yogurt or something. You were taking your time browsing the fridge when Jonathan slowly walked up behind you. He gently wrapped his hands around your waist and cradled your stomach through your dress. You were kind of taken aback, since he had been huffy and distant on the ride home. He gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek and held you close. 

You gladly accepted his embrace. “Whatcha looking for?” Jon said as he kissed your cheek and neck. “Ummmm… just… a little dessert…” you said slowly, getting lost in the sexy sensation of his tender kisses. He wrapped you closer in his arms and started giving you a slow, open mouth kiss on the neck. You melted in his arms. He always knew he could seduce you easily if he started nibbling and licking your ears and neck. He left slow kisses on your neck and moved them down your shoulder, pulling the hem of your dress down slightly so he could kiss and lick more of your shoulder. 

“DAMN!” you blurted out, genuinely surprised that Jonathan had suddenly launched into all this. Jon pulled you into him more and pressed his front against your backside, giving you a tight embrace and grinding into you. You lost your balance slightly, getting immediately turned on. 

“What’s all THIS?” you asked, with genuine curiosity. Jon didn’t usually randomly attack you with kisses/seduction like this. 

“Mmmm, I don’t know, you just look beautiful. I had to come get you,” Jon said in a low, sexy voice. 

“My god… well… I guess dessert can wait,” you said while giggling. 

“I’ve got some dessert for you,” Jon said in a dirty voice, before reaching up your dress and sliding his hands under it until he reached your pussy. He took two fingers and started slowly, tenderly, rubbing your clit through your panties. You were going insane. You moaned and let him continue at this for several minutes while he slowly rocked you in his arms.

You slowly turned to face him. His eyes looked absolutely NEEDY and overwhelmed with lust. You leaned in for a big kiss and he immediately returned it, hungrily. He pushed you forward, slipping his tongue into your mouth. The two of you lost your balance against the fridge door, which was still standing wide open. You felt yourself start to fall against the fridge shelves. 

“Ahhh!! Shit!” you giggled, as Jonathan gripped you and stopped you from falling backwards.

Jonathan started laughing also, realizing how klutzy this moment was. 

“Let’s take this somewhere else,” Jon said with a smirk, pulling you away from the fridge. You shut the door and speed-walked to the bedroom together as he touched you all over along the way. 

When you reached the room, Jon quickly faced you, kissing you deeply and hungrily. He picked you up by the thighs and off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his torso and moaned into his mouth. He carried you to the bed and gently placed you down, kissing down your body and wasting no time reaching up under your dress and sliding your panties off. You watched him in awe, confused by his sudden mood shift. He crushed your panties in his hand and gave you the dirtiest smirk, taking a moment to push them against his face and smell them. You loved how freaky he was and you both giggled. He tossed the panties away and started planting kisses on your legs, working his way up your thighs. Jon slowly crawled on top of you. You held his hair and lay underneath him, wondering why he had suddenly decided to make love to you like this. 

The truth was, the incident at the restaurant had left him feeling insecure. Maybe a bit possessive. Seeing your ex touch you and try to reconnect left him feeling desperate to do SOMETHING to pamper and satisfy you. To remind you how much he still wants you and perhaps, to STOP you from even THINKING about your ex. 

Jon locked eyes with you as he slowly took his lips off your mouth.

 “Mmmm..tell me what you want, baby,” he said in a quiet, sexy voice. 

You giggled, “Ha! Uh- I mean, YOU started this. I don’t know!!” you said. 

“Hmmmm… well let’s start here,” Jon said in a low, sweet voice. He pushed a hand between your legs and gently parted them, reaching under your dress and gently rubbing/fingering you. You shut your eyes and moaned as he massaged and teased inside your pussy while giving you a long, deep, open mouth kiss. He moved his kisses to your neck and ears while fingering you, leaving you WEAK. You just lay there LOVING it. Jon kept this up for a good long time until you felt like you were already getting close to coming. Jon slowly removed his fingers from you. He locked eyes with you, smiling, before licking his fingers clean. Your eyes lit up and you gave him a huge smile and giggle as you watched him.  

Jon knelt next to your face and whispered “you always taste so fucking food,” right into your ear. You moaned and started grabbing his waist, parting your legs more for him. You’d had MORE than enough foreplay and you REALLY needed him to fuck you now. He quickly sat up, unbuckling his pants and taking them off along with his boxers and whipping his T-shirt off while you removed your dress. He quickly climbed back on top of you and immediately pushed into you as the two of you moaned. You noticed he was being unusually slow and tender with his movement tonight. Slow, sensual, delicious, pumps into you. This was not some quick, fun, aggressive fuck. He was REALLY determined to make love to you for a long time tonight. It felt amazing, and although you still wondered WHY, your mind was clouding over with pleasure. 

You moaned louder and louder as he took his time, slowly pushing deep into you and making you feel as good as possible. He kept kissing you all over while gradually letting his pumps pick up speed. Jon was driving you CRAZY as he continued licking and love biting your neck and ears. Your pussy was quivering and you knew you were going to come extremely hard, and SOON. Jonathan pumped harder and faster in response to you as your moans increased. You were getting so close. He let out a groan of pleasure watching you. Out of nowhere, he spoke. 

“Baby… mmfff… baby, look at me!” he whispered.

Your eyes had been shut with pleasure, but you opened them to look at him. His eyes stared hard into yours. You smiled at him weakly while moaning, your orgasm approaching. 

“I love you,” Jon whispered solemnly while stroking your hair and pumping into you. 

You were a bit taken aback. You knew he loved you. But him saying it so solemnly like this, DURING sex, was unusual. But you weren’t going to question it. 

“I love you too Jon!” you said with a hazy smile on your face as your orgasm approached. 

His big, expressive eyes lit up with love/lust and he kissed you hard one more time before pumping nice and hard into you. His dick pressed against just the right spot inside you. 

“Ahhhh!!!…..  Fuuuu!!!” you cried out. He felt SOOO good. You couldn’t handle it and started coming VERY hard. You let out a scream/moan and started shaking, holding his neck and gripping his hair as he ground his dick into you. He moaned against your neck and kept licking and kissing you while you came. This was DEFINITELY the best orgasm you had with him in recent times. You kept coming, shaking in his arms as he left his dick deep inside you, slowly moving it in and out, letting you ride your climax hard. As you slowly came down and caught your breath, he looked right into your eyes again, still inside you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful baby,” Jon complimented as he stroked your hair. “I love watching you cum….so pretty” he whispered. 

Again, you were taken aback. Him telling you all this DURING sex was a bit unusual. But again, you didn’t question it. 

“You- fu…..You’re….the sexiest fuckin man alive,” you complimented in return while giggling. “Holy shit, I came so hard,” you said, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Mmmmff… GOOD,” Jon said with a beaming smile. “My turn,” he said, losing his composure and moaning against you. You yelped and moaned loudly as Jon picked up speed again. He began fucking you with incredible intensity. Again, you were stunned. It was like he was REALLY hungry for you tonight. He made loud, honest, unrestrained noises. You just watched him in awe before shutting your eyes again. His orgasm hit him FAST and he moaned LOUDLY. You felt his cum spurt inside you with a good deal of force as he whimpered and gasped. You felt the warm gush of it start to slowly leak out of you as he kept coming. 

As he finally finished, he gently leaned into you and kept kissing you AGAIN. He was REALLY into kissing you tonight. After some slow, tender post-climax kissing, he finally climbed off of you and flopped next to you in bed…. totally spent. As you both caught your breath, he turned towards you, pulling your naked body tightly against him. You felt weak and exhausted in his arms. This had definitely been a “love making” session. Not some kind of playful fuck. 

Jon pushed your damp hair out of your face and stroked your forehead before saying AGAIN, “I LOVE you,” in a solemn whisper. 

“I love you too,” you whispered, earnestly. “So much,” you continued, while nuzzling his face. The two of you were so tired, you gradually fell asleep in that position, listening to one another breathe. 

The following day you woke up VERY groggy. You opened your eyes and saw Jon in a deep sleep next to you in bed. Plenty of light was shining into the room and you guessed the two of you had slept in until at least the afternoon. You slowly rolled over and grabbed your phone, sitting up in bed. Sure enough, it was 3pm. You two always stayed up most of the night and slept in (kindred vampires) but he definitely kept you up even longer last night. Groaning and wiping your eyes, you crawled out of bed and threw on a nightgown (you were still naked). You crawled back into bed to relax and started checking stuff on your phone.  Pushing your matted hair out of your face, you remembered last night. You definitely needed a shower. 

Though you try to not obsess over social media, it always ends up being the first thing you check. You opened Instagram, seeing the sweet likes/comments on a recent picture of you and Jonathan that you had shared. It wasn’t an ego thing necessarily but you loved seeing well-wishes from people. Next, you opened Facebook. The first thing you noticed was a friend request….. From Zane. You were quite shocked. You looked over at Jonathan, who was still sleeping naked. His upper body was exposed and the blankets covered his lower half.  He looked sexy, adorable and peaceful in his deep sleep. You remembered just how amazing last night was. 

Then, you looked back at your phone. So much time had passed since you had been with Zane. His profile pic had a woman standing next to him in a cute, couple’s pose. You figured he was in a relationship. Assuming both you and he had moved on and there would be no weirdness, curiosity killed the cat. You hit ‘accept’ and looked at his page. He had new photos of him from the gym, and several with this woman. Scrolling his feed, there were updates about his sobriety and kudos from friends/family. Pictures of him traveling and hiking with friends. It did make you happy to see his life had improved. Maybe you WERE too forgiving, but you didn’t like to hang on to hate/grudges. 

Jonathan was pretty damn allergic to social media for a variety of reasons. Mainly, he doesn’t stand for internet bullying or the narcissistic side of social media. He’s also very aware of internet stalking. Jon grudgingly holds a few promotional social media accounts, mostly run by his management team. As you were scrolling through Zane’s pictures, Jonathan stirred beside you. He opened his eyes and looked at you. The two of you exchanged sleepy smiles. You were about to close your phone, but Jonathan was surprisingly energetic and quick to sit up in bed. He leaned in and gave you a big kiss on the mouth, leaving you no time to get rid of what was on your phone screen. His kiss was surprisingly passionate and you got lost in it. As Jonathan let you out of the kiss he nuzzled against your shoulder, sleepily moving his gaze towards your phone. 

“Oh shit,” was the only thought running through your head. If you rushed to shut off your phone screen or change the page, this would look even worse. Cringing, you allowed Jon to notice what was on your screen. Jonathan’s sleepy gaze slowly turned to realization, noticing who/what you were looking at. Before Jon could say anything, you confessed “I opened Facebook and Zane sent a friend request.” Jonathan slowly took his face off your shoulder, exhaling and tightening up… his demeanor changed from elated to pissed. He scooted away from you in bed and folded his arms, pulling up the blankets to cover his body.

“And let me guess, you accepted it?” Jon asked in a quiet voice.

“I was curious, I’m sorry,” you admitted. 

“Curious how the dick who stole 2 years of your life is doing? Fair enough,” Jon continued in a quiet, cold voice. 

“A LOT of time has passed. He- he seems like he’s changed a lot. AND he’s in a new relationship too! It’s just fucking FACEBOOK. I add a lot of people. You know that,” you said, lamely trying to defend yourself. 

“I gotta tell you…. Guys don’t do this unless they want something,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. 

“Want something?” you replied. 

“Yeah, I could tell,” Jonathan continued. “I saw it right away when he stood next to you last night. He wants a shot with you again,” Jon said, staring hard into your eyes. 

“Well he’s not gonna GET one, jeez!” you replied, truthfully. 

“I’m going to be real. As a dude. Take it or leave it, mkay?” Jonathan said while facing you and putting his hands on your lap. “Guys don’t want to be ‘buddies’ with their ex. Guys don’t usually want to be ‘FRIENDS’ with women in general! If you give Zane an inch, he’s gonna take a mile and keep trying. And YOU? You’ve ALWAYS been too nice with this dickwad,” Jon said, his eyes darkening. 

“Ok! I get it! Damn…. You’ve got thirsty women chasing you all the time and I have to just accept it and trust you! I got a friend request from a dude who’s ancient history in my mind and you’re freaking out?” you said, trying to brush off Jonathan’s concerns.  

Jon shook his head. He DID try to catch himself, realizing the hypocrisy of all of this. There’d been countless uncomfortable situations where Jonathan had to brush off attention from women. He knew how much trust it must take for you to be with him and not feel jealous/insecure. Jonathan slowly exhaled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah…. I hear you. It’s fucking ridiculous, me saying this. I trust you. You trust me…. I’m sorry…” Jonathan said, trying to cool off. 

There was heavy silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a knife. Jonathan eventually broke the silence: 

“I trust you. But… I don’t trust him,” Jon said. He turned to face you in bed again and you looked back into your eyes with concern. “AND, if he’s as into you as I THINK he still is, he’s probably going to message you… And if he’s as possessive as he WAS with you, he may even web-stalk you a bit,” Jonathan said in a serious tone. 

You sighed and shook your head, climbing out of bed. You didn’t know what to think about this side of Jonathan. The hypocrisy was pretty epic. You had to share him with the world and now he had this paranoid concern about ONE person. However, you thought about what he said. You HOPED he was wrong. You took a shower. Usually Jon would join you but he was still being cold. He just threw on some pajamas, and decided to brood in bed, watched TV, ignoring you. After your shower you got some food and climbed back into bed with him, hoping to cuddle up and watch something together. However, Jon was rigid, not thrilled to have you touching him. He didn't even break his gaze from the tv, as he stared at it looking pissed. You knew why. This Zane thing was still bothering the hell out of him. You decided to just take the hint and let him cool off. 

The atmosphere at home was now tense and depressing. You and Jon rarely have times like this where one of you truly doesn’t want to be around the other. But you could FEEL that Jonathan didn’t want to be around you right now. You couldn’t even IMAGINE what thoughts were going on in his head. This situation had never come up before. It was always Jonathan proving himself loyal to you after getting tested by various situations. Now, you could tell he was insecure, pissed and maybe even jealous. You decided to drive to a cafe and clear your head. Sitting down with your drink, you opened your phone, figuring you’ll text your best friend about this situation and ask for her advice. As you were doing that, your Facebook dinged with a message notification. It was Zane. You stomach dropped. 

Zane: “I’m glad to see you accepted my request! Like I said, I’d love to catch up.” 

You: “Yeah I’m glad to see you doing so well. I’m a bit busy at the moment though. Just out at a cafe.” 

Your aim was to try to end the conversation before it began. 

Zane: “Oh nice! Which cafe?” 

Reluctantly you replied: “The Starbucks on Oswell, St… they have the coziest atmosphere.”

Zane replied: “Oh yeah I’ve been there, that’s a good one. I’m actually nearby right now. Are you going to be hanging out there for a while?” 

You had a bad feeling…. It definitely sounded like he wanted to come join you. Your aim had been to hang out and read there for a few hours since the atmosphere at home with Jon SUCKED right now. You tried to craft a white lie so Zane didn’t come join you though. 

You replied: “Yeah  for awhile but I’m hanging with my friend, I promised her we’d catch up. Now isn't a good time, sorry.” 

Zane replied:  “Ah ok, but maybe we can hang out and catch up another time.” 

Your stomach dropped even more. Jon was right. He had immediately messaged you and asked to see you. You were firmly regretting adding him. You closed your phone and picked up a book to try to clear your head. 

After a long time had passed, you heard the cafe door open. You couldn’t believe it… Zane walked in and scanned the room…. And then gave you a big smile and wave. You nervously returned his smile and wave thinking “OH shit,” while also being more than a little creeped out. He sat down without you inviting him to. 

“Hey! Where’s your friend?” Zane asked. 

“Um… she had to take off. I was just hanging out,” you replied, lying. 

“Well I’m glad I caught you. I know you said it wasn't the greatest time...but I really wanted to see you,” Zane said. 

You were really uncomfortable by now. And if things with Jon were tense before, telling him about THIS would really suck. 

“Well I’m sorry, but I was actually about to head home,” you told Zane. “Maybe… another time?” you said. 

“What’s the rush to get home? Does Jon give you a curfew or something?” Zane said in an offensive tone. You REALLY didn’t like Zane badmouthing Jon’s character or implying that you are his lapdog. You tried to keep it civil. 

“I’m just hungry. I want to get back and have dinner with him,” you replied. 

“Ah.. does he make you cook it?” Zane said, continuing his aggressive, sarcastic questions. 

You were getting REALLY irritated and uncomfortable now. You just stared at Zane in amazement. 

“Tell you what, I’ll take you out to dinner and we can catch up. If Jon whines about it, you can blame me,” Zane said in a naughty tone. 

You were taken aback and felt your chest tighten. 

“Zane, aren’t you WITH someone?” you asked, inquiring about the women on his facebook. 

“Oh THAT, nah that’s over. I just haven’t taken down the pics yet. But seriously, I’d love to take you to dinner! Maybe a night away from Jon is just what you need! Come back to NORMAL life for a bit, see where that takes us, hmm???” Zane said in a flirty, aggressive tone. 

You realized now that you had to be blunt: 

“Zane, I’ve gotta be honest. You popping up like this has caused an issue between me and Jon. I’d appreciate it if you backed off,” you admitted. 

Zane looked PISSED but he tried to play it cool. 

“Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize he was that insecure…. But… what can you expect from a man who wears skirts? Alrighty. Well… I’m around if you wanna talk and hang, ok?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea… sorry,” you said, pissed off and eager to get away from Zane without responding to more of his taunts. You hurried out of the cafe and got in your car. 

Your hands were shaking on the drive back. When you got home, Jonathan was on the living room couch literally just staring at the wall. You walked in, flustered and shaken. Slowly entering the living room, you were perplexed seeing Jon just sitting there, catatonic. He looked up at you with a very lost expression. 

“Jon? Are you okay?” you asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Uh…. yeah. YEAH I’m ok,” Jon said (lying). The truth was, Jon had been sitting on the couch reflecting hard on what it might feel like to lose you if you reciprocated any of Zane’s feelings or attempts to reconnect. He couldn’t get it out of his head. At the same time, Jon had been sitting there feeling guilty for being so hard on you, knowing full well it’s hypocritical given the amount of attention he gets that YOU have to put up with. 

Jonathan focused his gaze on you. He knew immediately you weren’t okay either. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look scared or something. Was it me? I- I .. I’m sorry for acting so cold earlier… you didn’t deserve that,” Jon continued, getting off the couch and walking up to you to give you a hug. You couldn’t get any words out. You just let Jon hug you. Holding each other tightly, you both wanted to cry… but were not ready to admit all the reasons why.

As you held each other, all you could think was “I don’t want to lose his trust!” 

As he held you all Jon could think was “I don’t want to lose her.”  

As Jon slowly let you out of the hug, he looked at your eyes and could tell something was still wrong. 

“Seriously, are you ok?” Jon asked, concerned. You decided you HAD to tell him what just happened. 

“Well…. No. Jon, you were right. I went out to a cafe just to give you some space. And Zane messaged me right away like you said he might. I made the mistake of saying I was out… and he fucking showed up where I was, even after I said I was busy,” you admitted. 

Jon’s eyes darkened and his face sank. He let out an enraged sniff and took some quick steps away from you while shaking his head and gripping his hair, nervously tugging on it. He started rapidly pacing around the room and breathing faster. 

“I TOLD HIM I DIDN’T WANT HIM TO MEET ME. I told him he was causing problems for us. He- he was REALLY persistent. It took me by surprise. I’m SO sorry,” you said, half in tears. 

Jon paced some more while tugging harder on his hair and breathing faster. He put his hands on his hips and looked at you.

“MAN, that little FUCKER doesn’t waste ANY time, did he?” Jon said. 

“I really didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you said apologetically. “But I was VERY blunt with him now, Jon! I told him he needs to back off!” 

Jon stood still, hands on his hips, still breathing hard and looking like he wanted to kick something. He wasn’t mad at you, necessarily. At least, he was trying not to be. But he WAS feeling like this guy was getting predatory…. Jon thought carefully before speaking again. 

“HOW did he just SHOW UP where you were? Tell me HONESTLY” Jon asked, with a very angry expression. 

“I made the mistake of saying which cafe it was in a text, after he kinda pried about where I was,” you told him, truthfully. 

“AFTER you said you were busy and didn’t want to meet him? And he STILL tracked down the address and showed up to the cafe?” Jon demanded, with his eyes BORING into yours. 

“YES,” you told Jon truthfully. 

Jon looked furious and ready to cry at the same time. “Is that REALLY how it went down??? Hmm?? He just TRACKED you down, you didn’t ask to see him??? TRUTH!” Jon demanded. 

“YES JON!!!! Read the fucking texts if you want!” you cried, pushing your phone forward towards him and stepping across the room next to him. 

Jon slumped his head forward and just stared at the ground, wincing his eyes and shaking his head at his own behavior. There was awkward silence as you left your phone outstretched waiting for him to look.  He looked back up at you, with an expression on his face like he was ready to cry. 

“I’m not gonna do that to you. I’m not gonna go through your fucking phone. I believe you, baby. I trust you,” Jon said, truthfully. You threw your phone onto the couch and rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around him in a big hug. Jon was rigid at first, not hugging you back, but within a few seconds, broke down crying and returned your hug. The two of you just held each other for a few minutes. 

You slowly let go of him. You looked at his eyes and he was trying to clear his throat and stop snuffling. You touched his face. “PLEASE. You have nothing to worry about. I hate him right now more than EVER. He was SO rude today! I’m NEVER going back to him, OK?” you said. Jon slowly nodded. He touched your face and stroked your hair. He looked at you lovingly and began feeling more protective than anything else. He realized whatever interaction you had with Zane had left you shaken up.  

Jon slowly exhaled and composed himself before speaking again: 

“I’m not gonna fucking tell you what to do about him. But…If he was aggressive enough to track you down at the cafe, I think you better take him off Facebook. He’s DEFINITELY going to keep messaging you and trying shit. And all that location tagging bullshit on those apps gives him a lot of chances to figure out where you are. Baby, he’s pushing HARD,” Jon warned. 

You sighed. The thought that Zane might actually be STALKING you seemed over the top. You hoped Jon was just being paranoid. You also had hoped Zane took the hint loud and clear at the cafe. You weren’t sure what to say. 

“I was really clear with him, Jon. I don’t think he’ll bother me again. If he does I’ll block him, ok?”

Jon didn’t like that answer, but he respected you and accepted it. “Ok. But be careful. I love you. I’m sorry … really fucking sorry for how I’ve been acting, baby,” he said, holding you again. 

–

The following night you and Jon went out to a restaurant/music hall. You were trying to get back on track and enjoy yourselves. The evening was going really well and after your meal you slow danced with him to some live music. The two of you held each other tight, and as you danced, Jon just stared at your eyes before giving you a big kiss. He nuzzled his face against your ear and said, “I’m a very lucky man,” over the music. Then, he held you tighter and you rested your head on his shoulder as the two of you continued dancing in a tight embrace. 

Later that evening, you ran into one of your friends at the music hall. The two of you were excited to see each other and decided it was a great photo-opp with the beautiful backdrop. You asked Jon to take a picture of the two of you and he gladly did. You posted it to your Facebook, tagging her. Again, Jon really disliked social media but he was aware you wanted to share the fun moment on your page. Facebook prompted you to tag the venue location and you hit ‘accept,’ without thinking too closely. 

The three of you spent a long time talking together at a bistro outside the venue, ordering some dessert. Eventually, Jon stepped away to go to the bathroom, and the three of you were preparing to part company. Your friend called it a night and gave you a hug goodbye. As you sat alone, waiting for Jon to come back, you felt a hand caress your shoulder and you looked up, smiling, expecting it to be Jon. 

It was Zane. You were in utter shock. “ZANE? What are you doing here?” 

“Surprise!” Zane said, as if you would be thrilled. You had no words. 

Without being invited, he sat down next to you. You scooted away from him. Before you could ask him what the hell he was doing there he said, “man this place is awesome huh? So, you out with friends or?” 

“I’m here with Jon,” you said, with an angry scowl. 

“Oh! I thought maybe you were having a girls night or something. So where is Mr. Universe? Left you all alone again?” Zane said in his smug tone. 

“He’s coming right back,” you said. “And Zane…. I really… don’t think we should hang out. At all. I really… I really think you should go,” you admitted with as much courage as you could put into your voice. 

“Hmmm.. is that what YOU want? You want me to go? Or is that what he wants?” Zane asked. 

“That’s what I want. ME. I want you to go,” you said, slowly standing up and backing away from him. You were feeling genuinely irked at this point. How did he find you? Why was he being so aggressive?

Jon was walking out to the bistros and saw Zane next to you. He froze and watched as Zane started to stand up and take steps towards you. He watched you taking steps away from him with a nervous expression on your face. Your body language was quite clear. You were frightened. 

“Well, I’ll go. But only if that’s what YOU want. But I gotta tell you, I don’t think that’s what you REALLY want,” Zane continued in an ominous tone as he stepped next to you and tried to stroke his hand across your face and play with your hair.  

Jonathan took slow steps towards the bistro, doing his best to restrain himself as he watched the whole thing going down. You pushed Zane’s hand away from your face, saying “what are you DOING?” as you felt genuine disgust. 

Jonathan slowly stepped next to you, pushing his arm between you and Zane and gently pushing you behind his body. You DID feel intimidated by Zane and you fully accepted/appreciated Jon stepping between the two of you. You reached out and held Jonathan. Jonathan put his arm around you, taking slow backwards steps with his arm firmly around you while maintaining a wordless death stare at Zane. 

“HEY man, how ya doing?” Zane said to Jon in a sarcastic tone. 

“Me? I’m fucking SWELL, Zane. What brings you here tonight?” Jon said in a low, ominous voice. 

“Ah… just looked like an awesome venue. It’s wild, I just keep running into her,” Zane said, pointing to you. “It’s like fate or something,” Zane said in an unhinged, condescending tone. 

“YEAH MAN! Fucken serendipity, innit?” Jon said, boring his eyes into Zane’s. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a picture of her here with a location tagged or nothing!” Jon said, calling Zane’s bluff. 

“PFT, damn, man, are you always this paranoid or is it like a bad cocktail of your meds?” Zane retorted. 

You were freaking out. You did NOT want this fight to happen. But… you had to admit, watching Jon put a stop to this was pretty damn satisfying. Zane had MORE than creeped you out at this point and you really REALLY wanted him to leave you alone for good. You tried to step in: 

“Please, Jon, let’s just go,” you said, holding Jon and trying to make him take a step back from Zane. Then you turned to Zane: 

“Zane, please, I think it’s for the best if we REALLY go our separate ways,” you continued, sternly. 

“Wow, he’s got you well trained!” Zane continued. Jon forced you to let go of him and took several steps forward towards Zane. He was THIS close to beating Zane’s ass. 

Jon stared Zane down and spoke calmly one more time. 

“SHE is free to do what the FUCK she wants. I don’t make her do ANYTHING. But I’ve got some free advice for YOU. YOU aren’t free to STALK her and not take NO for an answer. If you think you’re gonna keep that up, you’ve got another thing coming!” Jon growled. 

Zane chuckled:

“DUDE, you scare me about as much as a field of petunias. You don’t even WANNA know what I think of you,” Zane said. 

Jon’s eyes turned black. He was THIS close to losing his shit. 

“Think what the fuck you want about me. I’ve cut open bodies in the morgue for a living. I know EXACTLY where to make to right incisions depending on which of your FUCKIN organs I feel like removing first,” Jon growled before giving Zane a single, HARD shove backwards. Jon’s statement DID catch Zane off guard for a moment. Zane stumbled back before catching his balance and taking steps forward to shove Jonathan in return. 

“STOP!” you screamed. The scream caught the attention of a bouncer, who apparently had already had his eye on the situation. As the bouncer walked up, ready to break up whatever was going on, you gripped Jon’s hand and pulled him away as hard as you could.

“JON!! Please, let’s go now,” you begged. Jon did his best to restrain himself and turn on his heel, following you and wrapping an arm around you. His eyes were still black with rage. The bouncer stood next to Zane as Zane tried to throw one final insult: 

“Yeah that’s right, GO HOME. You get cranky past your bedtime, get some rest man!” Zane shouted. 

Jon pulled away from you one last time. “YEAH I’ll do that man, SWEET fuckin dreams of that first Y shaped incision before pulling open your FUCKING CHEST CAVITY!” Jon screamed in the blood-curdling voice. He put his arms back around you and held you as you speed-walked away and into the car. 

The ride back was silent, except for the two of you both breathing really hard. You realized you HAD been stalked, and you grabbed your phone out of your purse, opening facebook and blocking Zane. Halfway through the drive, you looked at Jon. He was driving very carefully but his eyes looked absolutely FILLED with fury. You couldn’t take it anymore and started sobbing. Jon looked at you while trying to keep driving. He didn’t know what to do. “Baby? BABY! I’m— I’m sorry,  I … don’t fuckin know what to say … I….. SHIT…. “ Jon said, half in rage and half in tears. 

At the first opportunity, Jon pulled over in a parking lot. He turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt to reach across the car and hold you. You held him and cried, holding him tightly. You sobbed onto his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole! I didn’t mean to embarrass you! It’s just, when I walked out and saw him, you looked scared, like you were trying to back away from him and he was pushing you into a corner! I LOST MY SHIT!” Jon said, apologetically. 

You let go of Jon and looked at his face in the dim light of the parking lot. 

“He WAS, Jon! He was creeping the hell out of me! I had told him to go away already and he wasn’t taking my word for it! I- I’m REALLY GLAD you did what you did! I’m glad you were there!” you admitted while crying. Jon shook and cried some more while holding you… however, he was still shaking/crying more with rage….. thinking about anyone treating you like that. 

“If he doesn’t fuck off … I swear to god.. I SWEAR TO GOD,” Jon said with his teeth gritted, while holding you. 

“I blocked him! He better fuck off. I’ll…. I’ll get a fucking restraining order if I had to Jon! I swear, I HATE THIS, this is a nightmare!” you said, holding him. The two of you just held each other tightly for a few more minutes. Eventually, the two of you composed yourselves and drove home. 

You were both emotionally spent when you got back. All you could do was change for bed, climb in, and hold each other tight. You were shaking and trying to compose yourself. You felt so comforted and safe in his arms. Eventually your snuffling stopped and you fell hard asleep against Jonathan. However, Jon stayed up for ages, unable to sleep. There was way too much adrenaline pumping in him still. But he was happy to just hold you in his arms while you slept. Eventually, he fell asleep also. 

In the end, you did not ever hear from Zane again. Perhaps that confrontation at the music venue REALLY got through to him. Although, you often wondered if Jon did something you were unaware of to further “make his point,” to Zane. You decided to never inquire. 

----

Side note: I have a TikTok & Youtube where I make sexy/funny JD thirst traps/naughty joke Korn-related comedy edits if y'all are interested. I include myself in several vids, I'm openly a pervy/dorky lady haha. My accounts are not for clout/promotion. I'm just way into him and if you stumbled THIS far into sexy JD stuff you might enjoy my vids.

Link to my Tiktok:

Link to a funny/sexy JD Stich I made:

Link to my Youtube:

More stories to come. Feel free to leave story theme requests/ideas in the comments or DM me :)

[fieriframes]

[So, it's places like these, the real-deal Italian spots]

[mandu-17]

Propose | Kim Yoohyeon x fem! reader

Warnings: kidnapping, manipulation, cursing, mentions of drinking alcohol, brawl

Genre: Angst with a happy ending, a bit of comedy here and there, Mafia AU

Wordcount: ~ 4,175

A/N: i had this written down long time ago tbh and when i heard dreamcatcher’s propose i thought i’d share it with you cause the lyrics kinda matches👀 let me know what you thinkk

You remember very vividly the day your whole life changed. It didn’t feel real, just a few days ago you’d been a normal young woman working at this Italian restaurant as a waitress and then suddenly you found yourself dragged into mafia’s dirty world. A huge misunderstanding. You’d never expect that tall, gorgeous short-haired woman to be a mafia member. You’d never expect Yoohyeon - that was her name - to be spying on you.

When she walked into the restaurant for the very first time and directly asked your colleague for you to get her order, you couldn’t believe it. Despite being shy, you felt beyond happy about an attractive, charming stranger wanting to have an encounter with you out of all other waitresses and waiters. You didn’t question Yoohyeon’s flirting or her curious eyes glued to your figure even while you were serving other customers. It seemed okay, more than that actually. You liked being the centre of her attention.

Yoohyeon visited restaurant few more times, always getting a Margarita from you. She’d take her time drinking it while admiring the surroundings and simply walk away after winking your way. She was generous, tipped you a lot which was another reason why you were so fond of her.

That day, there was an accident, someone drunk barged into restaurant. He kept yelling at one of the customers accusing him of lying and stealing money. His whole face turned red from all the anger, alcohol and emotions he’d been dealing with. You coworker Mark, who was also a waiter, tried to ease their nerves and not cause panic in between other guests. Unfortunately, Mark didn’t manage to take control of the situation.

You froze on the spot watching as one of the men, the drunk one, rushed to punch the other nearly sending him off the chair. That’s when even worse thing happened. The other guy started defending himself with a knife which he sneakily took from the table. Mark quickly jumped, truth be told he’d have no chance against them. It was too risky for him to intervene, so he did the only thing he could - called the police.

All of other guests were running out, as the place was slowly being demolished. It was pure chaos. You felt many people pushing through, not caring about your body. You’d almost fall to the floor as well if it weren’t for someone grabbing your wrist and pulling into themselves forcefully, yet there was a subtle tenderness to it.

“Yoohyeon.” You gasped once your hands landed on her shoulders for some support.

“It’s dangerous here, Y/N. We need to go.” The look in her eyes was so intense that you had to really push yourself in order to glance around. Almost everyone else had ran away. Yohyeon was right. You needed to find a safe place and wait for the police.

With a tight grip on your hand Yoohyeon led you outside. Something about her calm aura and confidence let you feel safe. You began to scan her body, she had great physics. Strong muscles currently covered by suit pants and a white shirt. Her face remained almost neutral, except for the gentle frown on her forehead. It only made her more attractive in your eyes, though.

Outside, you found a bit less crowded space a few meters away from the restaurant’s entrance. While you stayed focused on the situation in front of you, you missed the way Yoohyeon nodded at someone behind you.

“I’m sorry.” She suddenly said quietly.

“For wha-”

~

You woke up in a dark room which kind of reminded of a warehouse. Panic in your eyes, as you glanced around. Did you just get kidnapped?

It didn’t sit right with you.

“Finally.” Your head snapped in the direction of the voice.

“Long time no see, huh?” A tall, dark-haired woman addressed you, a satisfied smirk present on her face.

“What? What is going on? It’s a misunderstanding.”

“Don’t play innocent now, Karla. You really thought you’d get away with everything you’ve done to me?”

Karla? Who the hell was Karla?

“I am not Karla, I swear. You got the wrong person. I’m Y/N.” The woman in front of you laughed at your shaking voice.

“I have to admit, you’ve always been a good actress.” She took slow steps towards you, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “But you won’t fool me again.”

You gulped the second she knelt in front of you to look you straight in the eyes.

“I can prove it. I have no idea who Karla even is. You got the wrong person. Believe me please.”

Woman’s head tilted to the side, that’s when you finally spotted Yoohyeon leaning against the wall. Her hands behind her back, as she watched the scene with that small frown.

“Yoohyeon! What did you do?! You know I’m not Karla!” Your eyes met, but there was no empathy in hers. She stared at you blankly.

“Yoohyeon only fulfilled my order which was to catch you, the hacker.” Woman in front of you held up a picture of... someone very similar. You had to admit she looked just like you although you’d never wear her clothes. Nevertheless, your eyes widened in shock.

“I-I-That’s not me, I swear. She looks almost identical, but really it can’t be me. I’m just a waitress and a student during weekends. Yoohyeon knows it!”

You so badly wanted another girl to take action and agree with you. You thought she was smarter than that. There was no way for you to be involved in mafia’s world.

“Woah, have you already fallen for her? You think she’d like someone like you? Oh, please.”

Angry tears blurred your vision. So that’s why Yoohyeon wanted your attention. She was only fulfilling orders. You understood it when she remained motionless against the wall.

“Yoohyeon.” This time leader’s voice was surprisingly stern, far from amusement she was expressing moments ago. One word was enough for the brunette to immediately approach both of you.

“Yes?” Her cautious eyes focused on the other woman.

“Meet me in my office in ten minutes.”

Yoohyeon nodded as you watched the leader walk away. Apparently, now it was her job to look after you.

“Come on, I’ll show you your room.” Yoohyeon said over her shoulder already on her way out of the room. You hated how empty she sounded like. You hated her current facial expression. Who did she think she was? There was no way she’ll tell you what to do.

“Y/N?” Brunette turned around when she didn’t hear you getting up.

“Fuck you! I’m not going anywhere. You know damn right I have nothing in common with mafia! Why did you do that?! Why did you stay quiet when she was talking to me?” You rose on your feet, angry tears now streaming down your face. Yoohyeon clenched her jaw and quickly approached you while pinning against the nearest wall. You froze in her strong grip, you actually had no chance against her muscular body.

“I am only doing my job, okay? Stop whining and follow me. You’re already causing trouble.” She growled in your ear and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so scared.

Her eyes were piercing through you with so much anger, Yoohyeon’s body tightly pressed against your own didn’t help either.

You really were at her mercy. She could crash you any second. For a short moment the two of you had a silent, intense battle with your eyes. Then Yoohyeon stepped back and once again told you to follow her. You had no choice. Slowly you dragged your feet behind her tall figure. While passing through different doors and halls you began to wonder how she could be such a good actress.

Just days ago, God - you didn’t even know how long you’d been there for, Yoohyeon was sending you all these winks and smiles. How could you be so naive? How could you let her manipulate you so easily? This new side of Yoohyeon, her true side that you were now following made your stomach sick. You were terrified of what she was truly capable of.

~ About an hour later ~

Sitting on the floor with your back against the wall you were looking around your new room. There had to be a way to escape. Yoohyeon left you there before heading to her leader. She told you to ‘wait and behave’.

How nice of her, you thought sarcastically.

You sighed and curled your legs against your chest. Hunger was slowly getting at you, as well as tiredness. Although there was no way you’d fall asleep in that poorly-arranged place full of old boxes and pallets. The door had a glass in it, but unfortunately it was made out of bullet-proof glass meaning running away through it was close to impossible.

As you kept eyeing the entrance, it suddenly swung open revealing Yoohyeon with a paper bag of what looked like take-out. After closing the door, she knelt down in front of you.

“Hope you like noodles.”

You stared at the bag she put in the middle of your bodies, a frown building on your face.

Wait, what?

She actually sounded kind, too.

“Not hungry.” You turned your head to the side, refusing both her food and conversation. You knew better, they could poison you.

“I know you are, but whatever. It’s not poisoned or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” Yoohyeon crossed her legs on the floor, her moves remained calm which you took as a good sign. You just had no idea when she’d become aggressive again.

Few seconds of an awkward silence later Yoohyeon spoke again.

“Is it true?” Her voice was really soft, a part of you wanted to believe that she came back to you. “That you’re not Karla and actually have nothing to do with the mafia?”

You met her eyes, aware that Yoohyeon tried to read through you and your emotions - something she was actually very experienced with.

“It is true. I have no idea what’s really going on and this whole situation scares me a lot.” There was a slight crack in your voice. That’s when Yoohyeon’s signature frown came back.

“That mean Karla has doppelgangers. I think that’s the case and you’re simply a victim of hers.” Short-haired nodded to herself, her gaze seemed a bit distant now as she was trying to put pieces together. “Jiu also thinks it could be a mistake that we got you and not her.”

“What does that mean then? Who’s Jiu?” You looked at her, desperately looking for answers. It was about your whole life at this point.

“Jiu’s the leader, she was talking to you earlier. Still, she’s unsure whether or not you’re only acting innocent so we need to wait for her decision.” She shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to let an innocent person get hurt or even killed because of your leader? Fuck, Yoohyeon! It’s my life on the line here.” This was ridiculous, you just had to raise your voice in frustration.

“Shut up. Yelling won’t fix anything.” One sentence was enough for your eyes to fill with tears again. You hated the woman in front of you, with your whole heart you despised her. “My life’s on the line too, if you weren’t aware. Although, Jiu’d never hurt me. We just have to wait few more days and then we’ll know what’s coming.”

As she finished talking, Yoohyeon gently clapped both her thighs announcing that she was done.

“Eat up.” Her monotonous was back the second she got on her feet.

You couldn’t believe she was real, it was impossible for a human being to be so awful. Eating was now the last thing you could think of.

“You know I’m innocent, right?” Before she left, you asked in a small voice filled with a tiny bit of hope.

Yoohyeon then turned around to analyze your features. Her eyes watched you carefully for what seemed like eternity. She let herself stare at you for a moment longer before finally blinking and gulping. She looked away, you had no idea what was going on in her head.

When she reached out for the doorknob you felt a single tear wetting your right cheek. You were convinced that there was no rescue for you, no escape.

She let out above the whisper, but she knew you could hear her.

“I know.”

~ The next day ~

Despite trying your best to stay awake in a foreign, dangerous place, your eyes fell closed eventually. You were completely worn out and mentally exhausted. There were no windows in the room so you had no idea what time it even was and for how long you were asleep.

It was Jiu who woke you up this time.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” She addressed you noticing your body laying on the cold floor. All your muscles were sore because of how uncomfortable your position was. Anxiously, you looked up at her smirking face. “Come on, we’ll have some fun somewhere else.”

With a gulp, you got onto your shaky legs. You had no choice but to follow her. Like a prisoner.

Few minutes later Jiu told you to take a seat on a wooden chair, as she sat down on the other side of the enormous desk. Interrogation began.

The leader kept showing you pictures, most of them being very graphic, but it was the first time you’d seen them. You had no idea who these people, victims were. Even after asking the same questions over and over again, Jiu didn’t believe you. Both of you felt like going crazy. You wanted to be free again and she didn’t really know what to do. Finally, after sighing tiredly, she took her phone and called someone. Jiu spoke shortly, her tone didn’t leave any room to argue.

When a tall, well-built woman came in, you had a hunch where everything was heading to. Especially since she was carrying a baseball bat. They wanted to torture you.

“Handong, look at these.” Jiu’s words made the woman approach the leader immediately. She stood behind her and was analyzing both pictures and documents on the desk.

That was your chance.

You quickly glanced at the massive door before making a decision. You needed to run away, fast.

As if electrified you jumped out of the chair ignoring Jiu’s mad calls and Handong running after you. There was no looking back, as you paced through the huge warehouse. By taking a few random turns, you managed to lose the woman following you. Luckily you found space with no people in it. The only minus was that you didn’t know where to go and what was truly ahead of you. Which is why you totally didn’t expect a sudden set of stairs leading to the basement.

With a groan, you fell down while probably twisting your left ankle. You had no more power in you, no more energy to run. The pain was too overwhelming. The only thing that came to your mind was hiding, so that no one could see you in that long hall.

You crawled behind a huge plastic box filled with some liquid and hid between it and the wall. If someone was using the stairs, they wouldn’t see you.

Then, all of the sudden, you heard two pairs of steps nearing. One from the above, running and another from down the hall - steady and slow.

“Hey! Have you seen that Karla girl?” This had to be Handong on top of the stairs, but who wsa she talking to?

“No, but try in the garage. I heard someone running there.” Yoohyeon.

Your eyes widened and you did everything you could not to make a sound. While holding your breath, you heard Handong running again in a different direction. You were praying that Yoohyeon would also go somewhere else and not notice you.

You remained quiet, just when you thought she was walking away, her face came into your view as she crouched beside you. In shock, you almost yelped but quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Short-haired was watching you with that unreadable expression before smiling amused.

“Watch out for the stairs next time, will you?”

So she knew it was you, but still told Handong to go somewhere else?

“What? Did you just keep me covered?” You couldn’t believe it.

“I know what I’m doing, okay?” Yoohyeon looked at you expecting an affirmation, one of her eyebrows raised. Simply, you nodded not trusting your own voice anymore. “Let’s go, I’ll bring you back to your room.”

It was very weird. Why would she do that when you were in the middle of talking to Jiu? Shouldn’t she bring you back to her leader?

Confused, you got up but was reminded of your injured leg. Yoohyeon saw you flinching with every step you took, but the moment she opened her mouth you protested.

“I’m fine.” Stubbornly, you followed her.

In response, Yoohyeon rolled her eyes and after two more meters of you still not catching up, she turned around. Wordlessly, she closed the distance between you two and lifted you in her arms. You were beyond speechless when she readjusted your body, making you wrap your arms around her neck in a hurry in order not to fall. She held you in a bridal carry method. Her grip really strong, she didn’t even look like she was struggling with all your weight on her.

“Why are you doing this?” You used the opportunity to study her face. Neutral and bored almost as always. That’s what made her so unpredictable. You never knew what she was thinking.

“Why are you so stubborn?” She asked back.

This time, you rolled your eyes.

You chose to stay quiet for the rest of the way. Truth be told, you kind of felt okay with Yoohyeon holding you like that. Almost safe. You enjoyed the leather material of her jacket and the feeling of her hair brushing against your hand as it bounced along with her steps.

Her smell was also nice, strong yet comforting. Finally, you couldn’t help but stare at her lips. They were so close, barely a breath away. Yoohyeon’s whole body was very warm. The contrast to the air and atmosphere around you.

With a deep sigh you hated to admit it, but you liked being this close to her. You wished you could stay like this for a long time.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Yoohyeon smirked at you, noticing how you were constantly ogling her.

“Very funny.” Your response was quiet and filled with sarcasm as your eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Since she didn’t appreciate your staring and teased you about it you rested your head against her shoulder, almost in the crock of her neck. Your breaths must have tickled her skin as goosebumps slowly appeared. You felt yourself smiling gently.

“You can get off now, you know.” Once again her voice was full of amusement. She just loved making fun of you, didn’t she? Although, you had no idea when you even managed to enter your room.

“Right.” Mumbling, you got on your own feet with a pained expression when your left leg hit the floor. Yoohyeon’s hand stayed on your waist in case you couldn’t find balance, for that you were grateful.

“Let me see it.” She helped you slowly sit down and examined your ankle. You gasped when she turned it in her hand a bit too fast. Nevertheless, her touches were gentle, it didn’t seem like she wanted to hurt you. She even apologized for grasping your leg too hard.

“It’s twisted, I’ll get some bandage. Don’t move it too much, okay?”

It’s not like you physically could.

Moments later, Yoohyeon came back with a bandage and a weird smile playing on her lips.

“What’s so funny?” You frowned when she began to wrap your ankle without a word. She was very delicate while helping you.

“Jiu and Handong are still looking for you.”

Are they dumb? Or is Yoohyeon the insane one?

After all, she’s incredibly brave to go behind her leader’s back like that.

“Are they going to hurt me for running away?” Fear present in your voice as you whispered.

“I’ll take care of it.” Yoohyeon said seriously, your eyes met briefly. It was her way of confirming and keeping her promise. Eye contact.

“I see you haven’t eaten yet?” With a glance at the unopened take-out bag, she finished wrapping your your leg. It felt slightly better already. “What food do you like then? Rice, chicken, pizza?”

“Pad Thai’s fine.”

“We’ll go once it’s all over.” Yoohyeon nodded while standing up.

“Are you asking me on a date?” You blurted out of blue. You had every right to be confused. With Yoohyeon nothing was certain.

“That’s for me to know and for you to...” With a light shrug, she turned around and left.

You shook your head and leaned against the wall. What world was she living in?

That was an excellent question.

~

Later that day Jiu visited you for the second time. She seemed to lack some of determination she’d had earlier.

“Yoohyeon twisted your ankle?” Was the first thing she said. Her eyebrows raised in disbelief, she looked comical almost.

You opened your mouth to protest, but were fast enough to catch up on what was going on.

“Yes.” You kept your head low in order not to give yourself away.

“That’s a bit weird of her.” Jiu admitted out loud before remembering what she came for in the first place. “Listen, Y/N.”

It was the first time she used your real name. Did she understand that you were not the one she was looking for?

“You’re in danger now. Karla changed her appearance on purpose so she has people who look like her. Which means that you can be targeted by many people.” You looked up to meet Jiu’s eyes. Her face was serious, but since she was warning you like this, it meant that she’ll let you go, right?

“However, just as much as you’re in danger- you’re also lucky.” Jiu sighed upon seeing your lost expression. “You’re lucky Yoohyeon likes you. She won’t let anybody hurt you.”

Now it all made no sense. It was ridiculous for the leader to even be saying such things.

“But she twisted my ankle.” Unsure, you argued causing dark-haired woman to chuckle.

“She lied straight in my face about twisting your leg. I saw how you fell down the stairs on cameras and Yoohyeon still chose to lie about you. You’ll be safe with her.” Something on Jiu’s face changed. Now, she looked like she was having a conversation with a friends or something. Almost like she was giving advises to someone close to her.

Your tongue was tied. You had so many things to ask her, yet you didn’t know where to start.

“A-Aren’t you mad?”

“At her or at you?” Catching you off guard, Jiu sat down next to you.

“Both?” You honestly felt like everyone there was making an idiot out of you.

“I’ve known Yoohyeon since I can remember. I can tell right away when she’s lying or when she likes someone. It’s the first time she behaved like that, though. She’s never tried to protect someone so much.” You looked down feeling your cheeks warm up. “I’m not mad at her for that. I want her to be happy. I’m also not mad at you. Just frustrated, but nothing about it is your fault.”

You nodded acknowledging, but also appreciating her calm voice. Jiu seemed alright.

Now, you were feeling both excited and very nervous about meeting Yoohyeon again.

You had a lot to talk about.

~

While admiring the first sunset in the last few days you were waiting for Yoohyeon at the back of the old warehouse. Handong was the one who walked you outside. She helped you with the ankle and told you to wait few more minutes for the short-haired.

The second you heard steps coming your way, you turned around. Yoohyeon’s hair was bouncing as she walked towards you, her hands hidden in the pockets of her jacket.

“You up for some Pad Thai?” She asked with that damn smile.

After a nice evening out, she walked you home or more accurately carried on her back. Her strong hands were holding your thighs. Your arms were hugging her neck and you let your body press against her back fully.

“I like your perfume.” You shyly said.

It was now completely dark outside, but you weren’t afraid. Yoohyeon wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You knew that now.

“Thanks, it’s Gucci.” She giggled randomly making you laugh as well. You felt every vibration of hers. Every breath she took.

You wanted to stay close to her forever.

[sansaorgana]

— A CERTAIN TYPE OF WOMAN

🚨 This fanfic is a repost from 26 Jun 2022 from my different blog. I kept the Author's Note and everything from the fic the same as it was back then.

PAIRING — Jack Nelson x Wanda Weiss (OC)

SUMMARY — Jack comes to Chicago to make a business deal with Dean O’Banion. He doesn’t expect to fall in love with Hymie Weiss’ cousin but that lovely girl from the church is not as innocent as he might think.

AUTHOR’S NOTE [26 Jun 2022] — It’s written for @solomons-finest-rum 800 Followers Celebration and I chose a “It takes a certain type of woman to talk to a man the way you do” prompt + Jack. I wanted it to be with Tommy at first but the theme is related to the noir movies so I thought it would suit Jack better!  I haven’t seen “Boardwalk Empire” (yet) so Dean O’Banion and Hymie Weiss are described based on the real people but the whole gangster plot in the background is very loosely based on real life events in general. My OC is Polish–American and I am aware of the fact this level of self-indulgence might discourage some people from reading but I am very proud of this story so I decided to post it anyway. It’s not in a chronological order so pay attention to the months before every scene!

WORD COUNT — 6,190

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

A CERTAIN TYPE OF WOMAN

CHICAGO UNION STATION, SEPTEMBER 1923

Wanda Weiss took a drag of her cigarette and leaned on the wall to watch all the busy people walking around in a hurry. She fixed the hat on her dark hair and squinted her eyes while looking for the man she had been there to meet with.

She spotted him eventually and raised her hand to wave at him. He was quite short and had curly black hair, full lips and golden rings on his fat fingers.

“I don’t have much time,” he started with an Italian accent. “What do you want, Wanda?”

“I have a message, Antonio,” she informed him in a casual manner.

“From your cousin?”

“Hymie says that your boss’ new friend from Boston gives a rise to an imbalance of power between the northern and southern Chicago. Don’t be surprised if we gain new friends in New York. Meyer Lansky might be interested,” Wanda told Antonio and he furrowed his brow. “You tell that to Scarface himself if you’re brave enough.”

“Lucky is the boss' friend,” Antonio swallowed thickly. “They won’t start a war because of some Polacks.”

“Don’t underestimate Lansky,” Wanda threw her cigarette on the ground and sighed while stepping on it with her shoe.

“But there’s some misunderstanding!” Antonio gesticulated and a few people turned around to look at them. “We don’t have any friends in Boston,” he lowered his voice.

“We know that Mr. Nelson is your business partner now,” Wanda gritted her teeth, trying not to show any emotion while mentioning Nelson’s surname.

“Mr. Nelson withdrew. We are not doing business with him,” Antonio shook his head and Wanda raised an eyebrow.

“Why would he? Capone’s a good business partner for him. Lots of money,” she pointed out bitterly and took a glance at the huge clock to make sure she wouldn’t be too late for the bus to take her back home.

“He said he was withdrawing from the deal for personal reasons and that he doesn’t want to ever come to Chicago again,” Antonio chuckled nervously. “Sentimental guy he is. We think it’s about some woman.”

Wanda pressed her lips together to make a thin red line made of lipstick.

“Anyway, I have to go now. For the sake of your dumb cousin I will not repeat the message you have given me to my boss, you hear me, Wanda?”

She nodded and clenched her jaw.

“And congratulations on your wedding. When is it?” He put the black hat on his head that he had been holding in his hand all that time.

“Tomorrow.”

“You’re getting married tomorrow and you’re working as Hymie’s messenger today? Jesus,” Antonio let out a laugh. “Soon it’s gonna be over for you, doll. Your husband won’t ever allow that.”

“He won’t ever know.”

“Why are you doing this, huh? It’s a man’s world, what is so exciting about it for a girl like you?” Antonio furrowed his brow.

“Being a woman in a man’s world, Antonio,” she smirked and fixed his coat, “means that I can play as dirty as a man but none of you will hurt me because I’m just a woman.”

“Donna stupida (Stupid woman),” Antonio laughed and nodded before walking away.

“Stupida, stupida…” Wanda repeated the words that she could understand perfectly despite not being fluent in Italian. She took a deep breath in and stood at the end of the queue leading to the ticket office.

Perhaps indeed a stupid woman she was.

“Where to, Miss?” the woman sitting behind the desk asked her when it was finally her turn to buy a ticket.

“Boston, Massachusetts.”

NORTHERN CHICAGO, APRIL 1923

Jack Nelson visited Illinois to meet with Dean O’Banion, a fellow Irishman who ran the Northsiders gang in Chicago. O’Banion really wished for a deal with the Boston's King of bootlegging business, which would definitely help his position in the war against Al Capone and his Italian gang in the south of the city.

“It kind of makes me sad that Catholics kill each other in gang wars,” Jack noticed and took a drag of his cigar.

“Come on, Jack, them wops are not worth it,” Dean waved his hand dismissively while glancing at his watch.

“Who are we waiting for?”

“Hymie Weiss, he runs the business with me,” Dean explained.

“A Jew?” Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Nah, they gave him that stupid nickname but he’s Catholic like us. His name is Earl.”

“German surname,” Jack noticed.

“It’s not real. His family took this surname after coming to America but their real surname is something I won’t even try to repeat to you, Jack,” Dean laughed.

“Polish?”

“Yeah.”

Jack only nodded and waited patiently, eyeing Dean O’Banion up and down. He was short and plump, with thin lips and small eyes. He wasn’t an attractive man but when he smiled or laughed, he seemed to be kind and quite trustworthy – as much as a gangster could be.

The door opened rapidly and another man walked inside the kitchen of the house they had a meeting at. Jack assumed it was Earl “Hymie” Weiss.

That one was taller and looked more reckless – there was something wild in his eyes but he was objectively more handsome than his Irish friend despite his big ears.

“Finally!” Dean scolded him. “Earl, that’s Mr. Nelson of Boston…” he started.

“Nice to meet ya,” Hymie extended his hand and Jack stood up to shake it. “I have an hour.”

“An hour?” Jack raised an eyebrow and sat back down.

“Sunday mass starts in an hour.”

“You attend?”

Hymie put his hand into his pocket and took out his gun to place on the table. His rosary followed.

“I always have them with me,” he said seriously and Jack blinked a few times.

“Actually, I would attend the mass, too,” he only said.

“Alright, we can all go,” Dean nodded. “Let’s discuss the business first…?”

“That’s alright with me,” Jack nodded and watched Hymie Weiss hiding his gun and rosary back into his pocket.

THE DRAKE HOTEL, CHICAGO, AUGUST 1923

Jack Nelson was standing in front of the glass window and staring at the people outside running their evening errands. He took a sip of whiskey and raised the handset of a ringing telephone.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Nelson, there’s a woman here. She wants to see you,” he heard the receptionist’s voice on the other side.

“What woman?” he asked, although he knew perfectly well.

“She says her name is Wanda Weiss.”

“Let her come in,” Jack nodded and put the handset down. He squeezed the glass tighter and waited for the encounter that would probably be their last.

After a while he could hear a familiar sound of the short heels echoing through the hotel’s corridor. Wanda was a fast walker like she was constantly late or running away from something. Her heels were short because of that but also because she was quite tall for a woman and even without them she could look in the eye of many men. Not to mention her casual humble attire that was about to turn out to be nothing but a disguise.

She knocked and Jack put the glass down before fixing his tie and walking up to the door to open them.

There she stood in a beige dress and dark red shoes. She didn’t say a word, just kept staring at him with those huge dark eyes like she was trying to hypnotize him.

“Nice dress, pussycat,” he started, trying to hide his nervousness. “Why did you come here?”

“I was around and wanted to smoke but…” she took a cigarette out of her purse, “...I ain’t got no light. You got a lighter, Jack?” she asked and batted her eyelashes.

“Come inside,” he sighed and took a step back so she could enter the room. She looked around and threw her purse on the armchair.

Jack extended his hand with a lighter and lit her cigarette. She thanked him and walked over to the desk he had been occupying during his Chicago visit.

“So you’re doing business with Capone now,” she raised her eyes to lay them on him.

“Wanda, baby, you gotta understand,” he winced. He hated apologizing, he hated explaining himself like a school boy. Only a woman was able to make a man like him explain himself. “Capone’s gonna win this war between the gangs and I don’t side with losers. It’s strictly business, no offense,” he put his hands into the pockets of his trousers and she cocked an eyebrow.

“You son of a bitch,” she drawled out and Jack froze after hearing such words leaving that soft mouth of hers. She would give the sweetest kisses with it, sing the Bible hymns during the Sunday masses and whisper the most gentle words with those lips, making beautiful promises. But it was a disguise. Everything about her was a disguise apparently. “Capone’s not gonna win this war because he’s better. Now, he’s gonna win this war because he’s got you by his side. You are the one to dictate this war, Nelson. Whoever you side with wins and you are a traitor.”

“I chose what was the best for my business in Boston,” Jack angered. He didn’t want to get angry – not at her – but his temper was short and also her behavior was bringing the worst out of him. She wasn’t that soft woman he had remembered from their secret encounters.

“You’d rather side with the Italians than the Irish. O’Banion counted on you, so did my cousin. You had your deals already prepared,” she reminded him.

“How do you know so much about Hymie’s business, huh?” Jack approached the desk, too, and stood facing her with nothing but the wooden furniture between them.

“What do you care, Nelson?” she snorted.

“You know, doll, it takes a certain type of woman to talk to a man the way you do,” Jack pointed out.

“A whore?” she raised an eyebrow and he shut his mouth, taken aback by the question. “Only a whore is allowed to speak this way to a man, isn’t she? Because none of you ever care about any whore’s opinion but when a decent woman calls any of you a son of a bi–”

“Enough!” Jack interrupted her. “You’re no decent woman, Wanda. You lied to me. You talk to me like a common streetwalker and all this time you’ve been involved in your cousin’s business!”

“I have never lied to you, Jack,” she shook her head. “Just because I happen to help my cousin with his business, doesn’t mean that the girl you met at the church was not real. I have never lied to you. Never,” she emphasized. “You got used to them Irish women in Boston. Go back there, marry one of them. She’s gonna give you nine kids and look down whenever you speak, never interfere, never help with any advice. Obedient little thing. Us, my women, we are tougher.”

“Tougher how?” Jack shook his head and couldn’t help a little laugh at Wanda’s outburst of jealousy that made her cheeks turn pink.

“My parents and Earl’s parents came to America from a country that didn’t exist on the maps back then, you know, Jack? They came here hoping for a better life and what did they get, huh? You Irish always say you have it so bad here and I agree. The humiliation, the poverty, the constant reminder of being a filthy little working class Catholic,” Wanda’s eyes filled with rage as her fists clenched on the corners of the desk. “We know it, too. But you Irish, you have one thing easier than us.”

“Which is…?”

“You speak their language. No matter how much you deny it, you’re more their kin than us. Our language hurts their delicate ears, it’s barbarian and savage. My mother still doesn’t speak English and she never will but this is your language as much as theirs.”

“English is not my language!” Jack protested.

“Then say something in Irish to me,” she challenged him and crossed her arms but he couldn’t come up with anything. Wanda smirked. “Don’t talk to me about a certain type of woman, Nelson. You know nothing of the life I’ve lived here. The woman you met at that church could be me and she is still in me but I can’t be so naive if I want to survive in this world.”

Jack softened and walked over to her. She surprisingly didn’t flinch when he put his hands on her arms.

“You go back home, Jack,” she whispered softly, fighting her tears back. “We were never meant to be. It was a mistake.”

“You’re not a mistake, Wanda,” Jack caressed the sides of her arms.

“For men women are never mistakes, just adventures,” she pointed out and hissed at the burning pain. She looked down and noticed a cigarette burning her finger that she had forgotten about. She put it out in the ashtray and brought her hands to her lips to soothe the pain but Jack held it gently and pressed a kiss upon it.

“Will you be happy with him?”

“Happier than with you,” Wanda’s eyes sparkled with anger again and Jack furrowed his brow. “I hate you, Nelson, I hate you. You betrayed us and if you cared about me at least a bit you would never do that because… Because it might bring danger upon me, too. But you don’t care, you just want the money, you want prestige, you want… What do you want, exactly?” her voice calmed down and she ran her finger along the scar on his lip.

“Everything,” he answered.

“I wish I hated you enough to kill you,” she pushed him away and turned around to approach the armchair and take her purse.

Jack grabbed Wanda’s wrist and pulled her close to him again. She tried to fight back but she wasn’t strong enough to get free despite the fierceness.

“A woman…” Jack started while struggling to keep her in place.

“Let me go, you brute!”

“A woman who can hate with such passion and yet is so vulnerable… He doesn’t deserve you, that fool of yours. He doesn’t even know how to kiss ya,” Jack pressed his lips to Wanda’s and she gave up the fight, immediately returning the kiss back. Jack smirked and she stumbled but he held her strongly in his arms.

“You chose business, Jack,” she whispered after breaking the kiss and taking a deep breath in.

“So did you.”

“No, I chose my family,” she cleared her throat, grabbed her belongings and hurried out of the hotel room but Jack didn’t intend to chase her.

She was lost.

ST. STANISLAUS KOSTKA PARISH, CHICAGO, APRIL 1923

Jack and Dean wanted to stand in the back but Hymie sat in one of the front rows so they followed him recultantly. None of them understood much from the mass going on in a language so foreign, therefore Jack focused on looking around and admiring the art and architecture of the church.

He got bored after a while of doing so and he started to copy Hymie’s hand movements and kneel when the other one would kneel so he wouldn’t stand out too much. While staring at Weiss he noticed that a few times during the mass Hymie leaned in towards a young woman standing nearby and whispered something into her ear. She would push him and shake her head in response.

There was another man standing next to her. This one looked neat and he was focusing hard on his prayers. He was tall with broad, muscular shoulders and Jack noticed his hands were full of scars and little wounds. He had to work physically.

When the mass ended, the girl approached the priest and spoke to him before standing in the corner where the queue had formed.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked Weiss.

“Donations,” Hymie shrugged his arms. “My cousin is doing charity work here and collecting the money.”

“She’s your cousin?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, her name is Wanda,” Earl answered. “She’s getting married in September to this guy,” he pointed at the man Jack had spotted earlier. “Ted, he’s a mechanic, a good man. I found him for her.”

Jack thought for a moment and then he decided to stand at the end of the queue. Hymie and O’Banion looked at each other surprised before joining him.

“I want to make a donation,” Jack explained, already looking for his leather wallet inside the pocket of his coat and people around kept staring at him from the corner of their eyes. Not only was he a stranger but he was also the best dressed man there.

“You don’t have to,” Hymie chuckled nervosly. “Although it will be appreciated.”

“It’s a beautiful church.”

“Tell that to Wanda, it will make her happy,” Hymie rolled his eyes. “She helps to keep the place clean and neat.”

Jack’s heart softened at those words and then it was finally his turn to make a donation. He took a better look at the girl and he smiled.

Wanda Weiss had big dark eyes and dark hair combed neatly. She was wearing jewelry – after all her cousin was one of the gang leaders – but it was humble. Her dress was pastel pink, tight around the soft curves of her body and her shoes were white on a small heel, making her even taller than she naturally was but still way shorter than him. She smiled shyly at the sight of him and the world stopped for a moment for Jack Nelson.

“Nie widziałam Pana tutaj wcześniej, (I haven’t seen you here before, sir),” she started and the sound of a language so foreign was what brought Jack back to reality.

It was odd and it sounded harsh but for him it was like the angel’s greeting.

“Wanda, it’s Mr. Jack Nelson of Boston. He’s Irish,” Hymie introduced him. “We’re making business with him and he wanted to join us during the mass.”

“Oh, I see,” she switched the language and smiled at him even brighter than before. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Nelson.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he leaned in to place a kiss upon her hand and she blushed adorably. “I find this church beautiful.”

“Thank you. Churches are our pride, usually. That and vodka,” she giggled nervously.

“Speaking of, we need to start gathering the bottles for your wedding, am I right?” Hymie winked.

“Can we please not discuss such matters here?” Wanda’s eyes lost the sparkle.

“I would like to make a donation,” Jack changed the subject and she laid her dark eyes on him.

God, she was perfect, he thought. He barely knew her but he imagined her standing next to him during the masses inside the church back in Boston. Their arms intertwined, his wedding ring on her finger.

There were many women like her at the churches he had been going to but not a single one of them had this aura of innocence and fierceness at the same time. It had to be the fact that she wasn’t Irish or German but she was Polish and she had the fervor Jack had only witnessed in Italian women before. He had always had a soft spot for Italian women for that very reason but they usually ended up married to the fellow Italians who had enough patience to tame them. Wanda Weiss looked like she didn’t need taming because she knew perfectly well how to balance those two sides of her personality.

That, of course, was nothing but an image Jack Nelson had made inside of his head, based on nothing but his own assumptions.

“That is very kind of you, sir,” she smiled kindly but her hand was already extended in a quite demanding manner like every Catholic while gathering the money for their church. Jack chuckled at that and handed her a few bank notes from his wallet.

Wanda’s eyes widened at the sight as she squeezed them tight like she was afraid to lose them.

“I… That’s too much, Mr. Nelson, I cannot…” she didn’t know what to say. “I’ve never even seen such a big amount of money, yet alone held it,” she swallowed thickly.

“Don’t be stupid, take it,” Dean laughed and Jack nodded at her. Her cheeks turned pink and she hid the money into a basket she had been holding with all the donations.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Nelson. May God bless you with many children in return,” she added and Jack furrowed his brow at that but it was time for them to finally leave the queue.

“What did she mean by that?” Jack asked Hymie when they were going outside.

“It’s a Polish saying, don’t think about it,” Weiss shrugged his arms. “Alright, now we can go back to business…”

But Jack couldn’t focus on the business. Not on that day.

PULASKI PARK, CHICAGO, MAY 1923

Wanda Weiss was 25 and she lived with her parents in a house nearby the church and a Pulaski Park where she liked to spend her free time. She didn’t have a job, she was only helping around the church, therefore she had lots of free time but surprisingly she wasn’t spending it with her fiancé. His name was Ted Kowalczyk, he was a bit older than her and he was a mechanic living on the other side of a Polish district in Chicago. Hymie found him for her because he didn’t want her to end up as an old maid.

After gathering all that information from many sources, Jack decided to take a walk around Pulaski Park whenever he visited Chicago on business. On that sunny day he finally succeeded and saw Wanda walking out of the church.

Her hair was braided with a white ribbon and her skirt was humbly long but teasingly tight at the same time, which didn’t leave much room for imagination about the shape of her body. Jack approached her and took a hat off of his head to greet her.

“Miss Weiss,” he started and she stopped. Her eyes widened at the sight of him and she swallowed thickly.

“Do we know each other?” she asked, scared.

“Mr. Nelson from Boston. I believe you remember the donation I left after one of the masses,” he reminded her nonchalantly.

“Oh!” she smiled widely. “Hymie’s business partner!”

“Well, not yet,” Jack put the hat back on his head. “I’m glad to see you again, Miss Weiss. I decided to take a walk around the park while waiting for your cousin and his friend but now I have company. Where are you heading to, may I ask?”

“Home,” she pointed at one of the houses and started to walk slowly. Jack followed.

“From what I remember you are getting married soon. Why isn’t he walking you home?” he decided to risk it all and ask a question so blunt.

“Who? Ted?” Wanda laughed and shook her head. “He’s working.”

“Usually men in love want to spend every moment with their sweetheart,” Jack smiled softly, teasing her to sell him more information for free.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that, too. What does it have in common with me and Ted?” she asked like she was genuinely surprised.

“You’re not marrying him out of love?” He pretended that he hadn’t known about it already.

“I shouldn’t tell you that but you’re not from here so what do I care… No, I am not,” Wanda sighed. “Hymie wants me to get married so I’m protected if something happens to him. My parents are happy, too, because I won’t end up as an old maid and he’s a hard working Polish man of faith. He’s not even an alcoholic. A good choice, you see,” she sneered.

“Why would you end up as an old maid?”

“I’m not as sweet as you might think,” she smiled at him slyly.

“Oh, no doubt,” Jack chuckled. “Does Ted love you?”

“He hasn’t even kissed me,” she laughed and then went serious again. “I think he agreed to marry me only because he’s scared of Hymie and because Hymie promised him his own workshop after the wedding,” Wanda shrugged her arms. “And what do you do, Mr. Nelson? Are you a bootlegger?” she asked bluntly but he couldn’t blame her after the questions he had asked her before.

“A bootlegger?” He pretended to be offended anyway.

“What else would you be with that handsome scar on your lip, making business with my cousin and O’Banion? So, are you?” she squinted her dark eyes.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On what do you think of bootleggers.”

“Oh, I couldn’t care less,” she shrugged her arms.

“Well, then, sure I am,” he stopped because they were already in front of her house. She hugged her own self with her arms and bit her lower lip before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Thank you for walking me home, Mr. Nelson.”

“Just call me Jack,” he extended his hand.

“Jack…” she shook it and he swooned on the inside at how sweet his name had sounded while leaving her parted lips.

“I hope we will see each other again,” he said.

“No doubt,” she smiled and turned around to cross the street and go inside the house.

THE DRAKE HOTEL, CHICAGO, JUNE 1923

Hair strand after hair strand, Jack undid Wanda’s braid and was left alone with a soft, blue ribbon in his hand. Her hair was loose and now slightly curled, her eyes sparkled.

“So, do you like it?” he pointed at the liquor inside her glass.

“Oh, yeah. It’s so sweet…” she giggled, already a bit intoxicated.

“I knew you’d like it. We’re bootlegging it especially for the ladies,” he winked at her.

“Am I that predictable?” she teased.

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged his arms and put the ribbon down on the table before moving closer to her on the sofa. He still couldn’t believe she had agreed to come with him to the hotel.

“What are you doing?” she furrowed her brow and moved away a bit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Sounds exactly like you do,” she put the glass down and swallowed thickly.

“If I wanted a woman like that… I wouldn’t have to play all those games and give her a bottle of my finest liquor, you get me?” Jack blinked a few times.

“You sound like you get many girls, Jack,” she looked down.

“Oh, they’re just meaningless flings but a woman like you…” he moved closer once again but this time she didn’t move away. “...a woman like you is someone I’d want to marry one day,” he finished.

Wanda’s dark eyes suddenly became sober when she met his longing gaze.

“You can’t be serious, Jack,” she chuckled nervously.

“Dead serious, doll,” he fixed her ruffled hair. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

“I can be,” she teased.

“I wish I could steal you from him.”

“Then do. What has ever stopped you from stealing, Nelson?” she cocked an eyebrow and he pressed his lips to hers in a heated kiss. Wanda opened her mouth to kiss him back as their teeth clashed. She tilted her head and tickled his cheeks with her long eyelashes as he returned the favor.

“I can’t,” he broke the kiss and took a deep breath in. “I can’t corrupt you.”

“Corrupt me?” she chuckled and placed her hand on his chest. “Jack, Hymie really wants that deal. Make me a part of it.”

“It’s not right… I respect you too much for that,” he swallowed thickly.

“Buy Ted his workshop and he won’t say anything,” Wanda giggled but her eyes saddened.

“You deserve to be married to a man who would truly love you,” Jack caressed her cheek. “Who would cherish you, who would keep you at home in diamonds and furs.”

“Diamonds and furs? On me?!” she snorted and burst out in laughter. “Oh, Nelson, Nelson, you’re crazy!”

“Sure I’m crazy,” he nodded in response. “Crazy about you.”

“How crazy?” she crossed her arms, pretending to be unimpressed by his confession.

“So crazy I told my mother about you,” Jack leaned in to steal one more kiss from her surprised mouth. “So crazy I sometimes imagine a little girl sitting on my lap who would look just like you. Her big brown eyes looking up into mine, reminding me of her beautiful mother. She’d have me wrapped around her little finger,” he muttered and kissed her one more time and then another and another. She melted in his arms at those words.

“You’re sweeter than that liquor, Jack,” Wanda whispered.

“No, doll,” he began to place open mouth kisses on her neck and shoulders, “the sweetest thing in this room is you.”

NORTHERN CHICAGO, AUGUST 1923

When Wanda entered the house, Dean O’Banion and Hymie Weiss were sitting by the table and hunching over a map of Chicago.

“Co tam robicie? (What are you two doing?)” She asked her cousin and went to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

Hymie didn’t answer and when she came back with a mug of tea, their facial expressions were rather annoyed and a bit worried.

“Is everything alright?” she asked to make sure and furrowed her brow.

“We are trying to figure out how it’s gonna look now when the huge imbalance of power is coming to Chicago,” Dean explained and looked up at her. “We might need you to deliver the information…”

Wanda cocked an eyebrow. She knew why they were often using her as a messenger – as a woman she was untouchable. No reasonable gangster would hurt a humble, religious Polish girl. But at the same time she was smart and both Hymie and Dean knew it. She knew almost everything about their business because she often had good ideas.

“What information? What’s going on?” she chuckled nervously.

“Capone’s got a new friend,” Hymie explained and clenched his jaw. “That Nelson bastard betrayed us.”

“He will join Scarface’s bootlegging business in Chicago,” O’Banion nodded and lit himself a cigarette. “Supply him from Boston and all.”

Wanda felt like someone had just slapped her face but she had to keep her poker face on. Hymie and Dean had no idea about her secret encounters with Jack Nelson and now she kind of felt like a traitor as well.

But most of all she felt betrayed.

“That son of a bitch,” she muttered and took a sip of tea to hide her nervous face.

“I will contact Lansky in New York,” Hymie scratched his chin. “Wanda, I saw Ted today,” he changed the subject and laid his eyes on her.

“Hm?” she asked.

“He says you haven’t visited him in two weeks. He’s only seeing you at the masses these days. What’s going on? You’re plotting something up?” her cousin’s eyes squinted at her.

“No, I don’t. He’s working hard, I don’t want to interrupt him,” she shrugged her arms and put the mug down on the table. “I will marry him in two weeks as planned. I already have a dress prepared…” her voice broke a little. “I have to go…”

“Where?”

“To Ted,” she answered and left the house to take a deep breath in. Then she burst out into tears.

Jack was supposed to save her from the loveless marriage. He had promised to take her to Boston and take care of her. He had kept repeating all those sweet lies every woman wanted to hear – how much he had wanted to marry her and all that stuff.

Now she couldn’t stand a thought about him. She hated him and she hated herself even more for the fact that despite the hate caused by his betrayal, she still loved him.

She didn’t go to Ted's that evening. Her fiancé had to wait for the visit until the next day. She decided to visit Jack in his hotel and break things off. She wanted him to know what type of man he was in her eyes.

And what type of woman she was. The one he shouldn’t have crossed.

BOSTON, SEPTEMBER 1923

Jack Nelson was sitting behind his desk and staring at the wall in front of him with his fingers intertwined. He couldn’t focus on that day at all because all he could think of was Wanda Weiss in a white dress walking down the aisle of the St. Stanislaus Kostka Parish in Chicago to become Ted Kowalczyk’s wife.

He gritted his teeth at the sharping pain in his chest. He had never been expecting not being able to get the woman he would want to marry. Jack Nelson always got what he wanted. And out of all the possible exceptions to that rule… it had to be the woman he loved. Ironic.

At first he hadn’t expected it to hurt that much. After coming back to Boston he had tried to forget; surrounded himself with fine alcohol, bright businessmen and pretty women. Wanda had been always at the back of his mind, though.

The woman he had left in Chicago. The one for whom he had decided to withdraw from a lucrative deal. He had never done that before. He had never expected to do it for a woman.

He loved the duality of her, the challenge. How humble she’d look by his side during all the boring meetings with important people and how fierce she would be behind closed doors while fighting him, making love to him and helping him to build an empire.

A woman like her… marrying a simple mechanic. He couldn’t believe that.

“Mr. Nelson is busy!” he heard his secretary’s voice behind the door and furrowed his brow. He didn’t want any interruptions on that day. “What are you doing?! I’ve just told you that–”

The door opened rapidly and Jack blinked a few times, not being able to believe the sight in front of him. Wanda Weiss herself in ruffled hair under a wrinkled hat and a dress that looked like she had slept in it.

“Mr. Nelson, I’m terribly sorry!” the secretary followed her. “This madwoman–”

“Leave us alone, Jill,” Jack didn’t even look at her and she shut her mouth before looking down and leaving the room. “You married him?” he asked in a calm voice the moment the door shut closed.

“No,” Wanda’s answer was almost inaudible. Her eyes were widened and her hands trembled slightly. “I ran away. Yesterday I bought a ticket. It wasn’t planned, I just… I was at the Union Station, dealing with one of Hymie’s businesses… Spoke to that guy named Antonio, he told me about you withdrawing from the deal. He congratulated me on my wedding and I felt so sick, Jack… I felt so sick,” her voice broke and eyes filled with tears. His heart broke at that but he only furrowed his brow. “I have never minded much marrying without love, I thought I couldn’t count on anything else but yesterday it suddenly started to be unbearable… I thought I would rather let the train run over my back than marry Ted…”

“And what were you thinking, doll? Coming here and thinking what exactly would happen?” Jack chuckled nervously and leaned back on his armchair. Wanda’s lower lip trembled.

“I thought that… I thought that I would find you and that you would… That you would take care of me…” she sniffled like a child after realizing how naive it had been. “Was I a fool to think so, Jack?” she asked.

He couldn’t stand it anymore; he couldn’t stand her tears and a shaky voice, her fear and her uncertainty of his feelings towards her. He stood up rapidly and approached her to cup her face in his big hands. She only stood there, petrified.

“No,” he answered and leaned in to place a loving kiss on her shaky lips covered in a slightly smudged red lipstick after the whole night spent on a train on the way to her lover. “You’re many things but you’re not a fool, Wanda Nelson.”

MASTERLIST

[callmewrinkles3]

Peace - DR3 x Fem!OC

Summary: After their whistle stop trip to Perth it’s time for the next race in Baku. A photo causes issues, and Em sees something she shouldn’t have spotted.

Word Count: 9.6k

Warnings: Zak Brown, mentions of food issues (lack of appetite, not eating, what could be considered picky eating), media being assholes, panic attacks, mentions of mental health issues.

A/N: We’re baaaaaaccccckkkk! Sorry for the delay, we’ve been ridiculously busy. But in our defence, this is a monster chapter. We’re sticking with 2022 for the next while.

June 2022

“I have a couple of apartments.”

Em half woke to Dan’s words. She hadn’t really been asleep on the shorter flight from Dubai to Baku. Instead she’d been half dozing with her Beats playing music. London was clutched in her hand while she curled against Dan’s side. There’d been a plane swap and something else but their fancy seats were swapped into a row of three economy ones. Honestly if she was asked she preferred being able to curl up like this on a plane. His arm was around her and she got to chill out with him beside her.

“What do you mean?”

“For London. The city, not the bear I mean. If you still want to move in together?” He turned the tablet towards her to show an option. Three bedrooms, a view, in one of the parts of London they’d shortlisted. It looked nearly too good to be true.

“Talk when we get to the hotel? But yeah. I want to move in with you properly.”

They were two of the first into Baku for the race which meant that instead of going immediately into a bright orange race world Em got to unwind for a night. Dan brought her to an Italian restaurant for dinner and they held hands in public. They went back to the hotel room and curled up in bed before Dan asked her a question.

“So with the apartment thing. I’m looking at places for us to buy, not rent.”

“Danny…” She trailed off and looked at him, at the way he smiled at her.

“I didn’t tell you this. It was supposed to be a surprise. But I got the email the day before you arrived in Melbourne and it didn’t feel right to say it then. I dunno if you remember but do you remember when we were in Austin in 2019? We were in bed and you were talking about how much you like the city and you just trailed off and said it’d be a nice place to show kids.”

The vague memory hit her, the night after the race. When Dan had been jealous of her talking to Charles and Pierre and they went to the hotel. It had been emotional and she was still luxuriating that they’d said I love you a few weeks before.

“Yeah. Kind of?���

“I found a place. I was looking on and off since then but it had to be in delivery radius of that barbecue place we like. Your name’s on it too. I didn’t know if you were coming back or not but it’s our place. Bought, not rented. And if we don’t spend loads of time in Austin but we’ve got a place then we should buy somewhere in London. You don’t like Monaco that much. We just need to be there a bit for taxes and stuff. But we should buy somewhere. A home. Our home.”

“You bought us a place?” She couldn’t get over it. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. He bought them a home when she wasn’t even around.

“Yeah. It’s ours.”

“I love you so much. So, so much. And yeah. I want our home. A real home.”

“I’m getting you your lavender office. I promised you that I was going to get you a lavender office. It’s happening.”

She couldn’t stop grinning, holding onto Dan and sleeping well for the first time in weeks. It was restful at last.

Wednesday meant most people were arriving into the city and that included Blake and Michael. They hugged her tightly as soon as they saw her, both checking in through the day. There was still a divide between them and Dan. She could see the way they were with him. But that needed to wait, she couldn’t deal with all of it. Not now.

Most of the day was spent sitting with Blake and coming up with how she was coming back to work. She wanted to get back as quickly as she could, but Blake didn’t want to risk it for her. Which she understood. But she wanted to feel normal even when she felt like she was barely holding together. The other part of the day with Blake was having a conversation she never thought she’d need to have.

She had to make a plan about how her relationship was going to be made public.

Somehow she hadn’t been spotted much in Monaco, just a few gossip blogs which made life easier and harder. It was easier because at least it wasn’t a complete surprise that she was around. But it was harder because she hated having to do this. The fact that her and Dan were finally admitting that they love each other meant a PR response had to happen felt stupid. They were just two people in love. Why did the world care?

But it was clear that the world did care, the blog posts and TikToks and instagram posts about her were proof of that. The #WheresEm posts on TikTok from fans analysing photos of Dan, Michael, and Blake to see if she was in the background. The slideshows of her and other women who worked in F1. It was kind of surreal now that Blake was showing her.

“You’re in the paddock every week. You work in the sport. Netflix interviews you and every February people wonder if DTS is going to call you “Daniel’s girlfriend”. It happens.” Blake was apologetic as he opened a folder on his laptop called Tax Files.

“You told me that was taxes and that’s why it’s password protected.”

“Yeah, sorry. If you knew you’d have killed me.” She looked at the four PDFs held in the file. Dan_Em_dating, Dan_Em_engaged, Dan_Em_married, Dan_Em_baby. The last one cut like a knife.

“Seriously? Engaged and married? Statements for all of it?”

“It’s the two of you. I wrote them after you were in Vegas, there were rumours online for two months after that the two of you got secretly married. I thought it was better to be safe than sorry. For both of you. But this is the reactive ones in case someone posted photos or something. Right now I think you doing an insta post is enough, it’ll confirm but you don’t need to do details. Do you have any PG photos?”

Twenty minutes later a photo of her in Dan’s lap as he held her and gave her a kiss that was chosen to be the photo. Dan used his grid mostly for work related stuff so it was her account that would post it. The caption at least was her own decision. Thirty seconds of thought and she tapped it out. I know you know, but I love you to the moon and to Saturn. Once the draft was saved the schedule was set. Post it during FP1. It would be fine.

The plan mostly worked for Thursday. Her makeup was thick and Blake refused to let her work for longer than an hour of checking emails, but she walked into the paddock with her head held high. Friends nodded and gave her a smile, Carmen’s eyes widening slightly when she saw her and Em forced a grin. She was part of a team. She belonged her. She knew what she was doing. It would be fine and it was worth it.

Sitting in hospitality for the day Em refreshed one of the gossip instagram accounts she still followed, a photo of her talking to Blake appearing at the top of the grid. The caption made her huff.

She’s baaaaaaccccckkkkkk! Daniel Ricciardo’s assistant Em was seen back in the paddock. The rumour was that she was in Monaco but hiding in hospitality. She hasn’t been seen at a race since the Australian GP at the beginning of April, where she was seen with his parents and extended family. The duo were spotted in Perth for the weekend off last week, but they’ve never confirmed a relationship. Reminder: Em falls under our WAG rules because we don’t have confirmation if they are or aren’t in a relationship. No criticism of how she looks or what she’s wearing.

“What’s so funny?” Blake asked and she turned the screen to him.

“I’m kind of surprised how quickly people started sharing photos of me again. Am I really that impressive?”

“I think it’s more that you’ve been around for so long. Tomorrows probably going to be chaos with the post. You know that, right? You’ll get through it but there will definitely be questions.”

“I know. If we did this years ago it’d have been easier.”

Instead of a third iced latte that she’d asked for, Michael handed her an orange juice as lunch was brought over. He received a glare in its place.

“I thought I asked for a coffee?”

“And you’re vibrating in place. Eat something, Wriggle.”

The chopped salad in front of her was pretty but the idea of even touching it made her feel awful. Encouraging looks made her spear a couple of pieces of chicken that she could just about separate and eat them. At least playing with her food meant that it wasn’t noticed that she wasn’t really eating.

Dan was able to run in and grab food before going back to more team meetings. He pushed a kiss to the top of her head before raising an eyebrow at her bowl, but Em shook her head before he could speak. It was two or three minutes before he had to leave with Michael. Before he did he ran across to the coffee bar and plucked a lemon muffin from the stand to place in front of her. It was a smile and a squeeze of her hand before he had to go again.

She picked at the muffin and at her dinner that night before they were back in the hotel room together. Dan kept giving her looks to eat more but she was too worn out to eat. It was like her body was constantly waiting for the next crisis, coiled and ready to release adrenaline while she was begging it to relax. She needed to curl up with her boyfriend and be held by him. The day went well. People could tell they were truly in a relationship. Everything was public tomorrow. She could do it.

For the first time in years Em stressed about what to wear to the paddock the next morning. None of her clothes fit right and her usual style felt awkward. Normally she tried to blend in but this was the one day she shouldn’t have to. She wasn’t just Dan’s assistant anymore. People would keep caring about what she wore, working out what labels she had on and how much her outfit cost. It was so much stress that she didn’t want to deal with but Dan put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.

“Wear what makes you smile. You’ll be beautiful no matter what.”

“You’re a charmer.”

“And you need to eat something. I know it’s not your favourite but I got you a bacon sandwich with my breakfast. Try to eat some of it?”

“Just for you.”

The nerves thrummed through her body as she pulled on straight leg jeans and tightened her belt. Her outfit was finished with a Paramore tee that was at least a size too big and one of the merch hats Dan always had around, but she was clothed and felt good. She could do this. She could do it. Em even ate half of the sandwich Dan gave her despite the butterflies in her stomach trying to rebel.

Their plan for getting to the race was simple. The four of them were driving to the track together, Blake taking her usual role as driver. Dan and Michael were walking in five minutes before she and Blake did so they could take most of the attention away. Once he was in the car for FP1 she’d post the Instagram draft and hopefully someone would fuck up in practice so the “Daniel Ricciardo has a girlfriend” story would die down. It was a good plan that they could do.

When they arrived at the drivers car park they all stepped out of the car before Dan pulled her into a giant hug. It was nearly deserted in the early morning and she fell into him before sharing a kiss and a smile.

“That’s the last secret kiss we ever have to do. How does that feel?” Dan asked to make her grin.

“So no more hidden corners in dive bars?”

“I mean that’s a tradition so we have to have some more there, right? I love you. I’ll see you after practice.”

“I love you too. I think Blake is actually letting me work today so I’ll see you then.” They had one final kiss before Dan and Michael walked away while she and Blake stayed behind

“Just for the record, if you and Dan split up again I’m choosing you. You’re my little sister. I don’t want you to go anywhere else.”

“I learned my lesson, Blakey. I’ve no intention of going anywhere. I promise.”

Five minutes later they were walking through the paddock and Em ignored the eyes that were on her. It was a statement to be publicly there in the paddock, to be beside Blake while she wore a 3 hat. She wasn’t ashamed of herself or her love for Dan. She couldn’t be. They were in love and that was what mattered to her.

They sat in Dan’s driver room while Em went through yet more emails that she’d missed while she was gone. The practice stayed on tv and she let the familiar voices roll over her. With ten minutes left on the clock Blake gave her a nudge to post the photo with a smile.

“Ready to be a WAG?”

“Will I ever be? But I’ve basically been one for the last four years without the benefits.”

When she opened Instagram her notifications were already going insane. There were people mentioning her in comments and tagging her and she had to scroll back to see where it all stemmed from. But when she found one of the paddock photographers accounts and started to read the caption her blood ran cold.

Arriving into the paddock this morning ahead of Day One of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix I got to see possibly the rarest sight in Formula One - Daniel Ricciardo and his presumed girlfriend @callmewrinkles3 canoodling and revealing their romance. We don’t know a lot about Emma except that she’s English and has worked with Ricciardo since at least the summer break in 2019. Her first appearance at a race was Barcelona in 2018 where she hid in the back of the Red Bull garage. Most people have assumed that they’re together but they’ve never publicised anything. It’s clear from the photos how in love they are, but why have they never admitted anything before? She’s missed every race since the Australian GP and the rumour around the paddock was that they had split up. I think that can be safely ignored now.

“Blake. Fuck.” She held her phone out to Blake so he could see the post and watched as his face changed while reading. “One hour. One fucking hour.”

The comments began to fill her screen and she couldn’t help but read them.

They’re actually together? I thought that was a joke.

Why did she just disappear like that?

Dan deserves better than an assistant.

Who is she? Just appeared one day like she was always there.

Friends with bennies. There’s no way they’re dating. They’d have admitted it by now. Has to be some PR thing.

“Timmy? Em? Can you hear me?” The panic was rising through her chest as all her deepest fears were on screen. Dan deserved better. He deserved more than her. She’d ruined everything when she left she never should have come back. Why did she come back when she’d ruined things for him?

Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight, Em’s desperation filling her as Blake held on.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Deep breaths in and out.” Tears streamed down her face as she tried to copy his breathing. They were just one hour late to do it. One hour. But the one thing that they’d protected for so long and had been so careful with had been revealed to the world before either of them had the chance to do it. Outside the paddock they were supposed to be private citizens. That area was off limits, it wasn’t supposed to be where they could be photographed. Especially not by accredited ones.

“Why us? Why the fuck does this always happen to us?” It was all she could get out as she kept crying, Blake holding onto her tightly and rubbing her back. It wasn’t the same as when Dan or Grace did it but it helped as she tried to stop herself from spiralling. But Dan had his stupid briefing and then had to get ready for FP2 and she was barely going to see him. All she wanted was for him to tell her it was going to be ok. It wasn’t much to ask. Em lost track of time as she tried to pull all of her broken pieces together. She needed to get it together.

“I can get him out of his meeting. Want me to grab him now?”

“Please?” She felt pitiful with the tiny sound coming out of her mouth, but Blake left a kiss on her forehead before sitting her on the massage table and leaving the room.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok? Just remember. You and him love each other so much somehow. A photo and internet trolls are never going to change what the two of you have. I promise you that TimTam.”

She didn’t know how long it took until Blake returned with Dan but she could feel the fragile parts of herself begin to move and crack again. Why would Dan want her to be there with him? She’d left once before and she should just leave again. Let everyone else be happy. She could make herself be happy without them eventually she thought. The world was acting like loving Dan was some awful thing, that she didn’t deserve to love him and she didn’t know how she could keep going with it. It wasn’t fair.

Her sobs started again and Em’s arms went around her knees to hold them against her chest. It was going to be ok. It was going to be fine. It had to be fine. She couldn’t be too loud or people would hear and that would be worse for Dan if his girlfriend was having a breakdown in his room. She shoved her hand against her mouth to muffle her sobs. She could be quiet. She had to be quiet.

“Emmy? I’m right here Wrinkles.”

“Danny.”

It felt so stupid. So fucking stupid. It was a photo that revealed news that they were about to share anyway, but they wanted to get to do it. It wasn’t up to anyone else to share it. Why did they think they could?

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry Baby. You don’t deserve that and you never deserved have comments made about you like that. If you want to go home just tell me and you can, I’ll book the flights for you.”

The words hit her gut and she wanted to get sick. He wanted her to leave. Wanted her to go home.

She didn’t have a home anymore.

She destroyed their home and she was homeless and she had nothing left. It was all gone.

“I…I…We…We don’t have one. I don’t. I’m homeless. I got rid of it and Danny it’s gone and it’s my fault please don’t make me leave.” Her sobs began again as the reality of what she’d done hit her. She’d destroyed their home in a weekend. She was homeless. Michael had offered his spare room but she couldn’t. What had she done?

“No. Oh no, Emmy, no, I promise. I promise you’re not going anywhere if you don’t want to. I want you to stay here. I want to be here with you all the time. I’m right here and you’re staying with me I promise. I promise.”

She didn’t know how long he held onto her for but as her sobs subsided the embarrassment at how she acted filled her. It was all over a photo. This shouldn’t have happened because of a photo. But Dan held onto her and wiped her eyes while she stopped crying, emotionally and physically exhausted with red and puffy eyes. Her foundation was entirely gone but Dan smiled at her like she lit up the universe.

“For the record I hate saying this but we have thirty minutes until Dan needs to be in the car. And I might have a solution. Maybe.” Em twisted in Dan’s lap to look at Blake as he began to explain. Nat from Sky was willing to be outside to ‘run into’ Dan and do a softball interview for him to explain everything.

“Do it.” He hadn’t even finished speaking when Em cut across, making herself stand up on shaky legs and stretching while still holding his hand.

“Emmy…”

“Danny, do it. You get to get ahead of it and say something about how everyone knew. Act like it’s just stupid gossip. And then you can drive and ignore it, yeah?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

She wiped her face on one of the towels that was supposed to be for after Dan’s practice before nodding at him. Dan stood up and pulled her close, holding his lips against her forehead in silence. They were desperate to stay as close as possible for as long as they could until Blake tapped her shoulder.

“She’ll be downstairs in thirty seconds, it’s live.”

“Go.” It was a kiss to make Dan leave and Em sat down to get her makeup out of her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching from the garage. So I’m making myself look vaguely presentable.”

Her fingers were shaking as she started pulling concealer and foundation out. The tv was already tuned to the Sky feed and when she heard Natalie’s voice her attention went straight to it.

“And look who we have here! Daniel Ricciardo was heading over to his garage but agreed to talk to me for a moment. You’ve had all of the attention on you thanks to that Instagram post everyone’s seen about your relationship.” It was open and warm and Em bit her lip while she watched.

“Yeah. It’s funny, we never thought we needed to announce that we were together because everyone knew. You were talking to Em at the AusGP opening yourself. It didn’t make sense to do some big thing when everyone already knew. But now here we are, I guess. At least that’s better news than my driving in that practice. We’ve got a couple of upgrades that we’re trying to learn how they work with this car, so we’ll see how they perform in this practice.”

The way he was so casual about it made Em smile while she finished her concealer and patted it down. It wasn’t anywhere near good but it’d do, and her sunglasses would hide the worst of it.

“Ready?” She asked Blake. He nodded once and followed her across. It was the first time she’d stood in the garage to watch him drive since she and Dan had their fight in Jeddah and he sent her away, but she walked out with her head held high. Dan was standing at the bottom of the stairs to wait for her and held out his hand, Em smiling at him.

“You look beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He did better in that practice than the morning one but Em stood there silently. Blake had a hand at her back to keep her steady on her feet, orange headphones glued to her head. She hated the colour. Hated this garage. She wished it felt like home the way Renault had by the end. But she could do this. It was just an hour, and she could see when the cameras caught her and she waved. A small smile stayed on her face as she stared at Dan’s little orange dot on the screen.

She waited for him to get out and they held hands walking to hospitality for food before Dan had to go to more meetings. It was a luxury to hold his and and get to see him as her boyfriend. People stopped to ask for his autograph and take photos and she stepped back to let the photo be taken. One of the girls came up to her after getting the photo.

“I’m sorry about that photo for you. You deserved better than that for how your relationship was made public.”

“Thanks a lot.” It meant more than she could say that a stranger was being nice to her.

That night after yet more picking at food and trying to decide what she could stomach she curled up in Dan’s arms while he pressed kisses to her head. She didn’t know what to do or how exactly she was feeling, but that background anxiety was still there.

“Can I ask you something?” Dan whispered in the dark. It wasn’t too late so she nodded against his chest. “I know you probably don’t want to. But maybe we should find you someone to talk to? You’re not ok, Baby. It’s ok to need some help for a little while.”

“My dad always said that it was weak to need it. That if I couldn’t get through things then I needed to try harder.” The words slipped out before she meant to say it.

“You know I talked to someone last year after Monaco. I think it’s strong to admit that you need some help. It’s such a brave thing to do. It’s up to you but I think it could help.”

It was silent between them for a few minutes before Em could speak. “I think I need some help. Can you help me find someone who does it online?”

“I’ll be right beside you for all of it. I promise.”

“I know.”

Even admitting that she needed to talk to someone took some of the weight off her shoulders. There was something deep inside her that just felt broken and unable to put itself back together. She was freaking out about tiny things. That photo shouldn’t have made her feel this way. The entire Monaco weekend shouldn’t have affected her like that. She’d seen Dan crash before - she’d been in the garage when he crashed in Austria two years before - and the Monaco one wasn’t a big one. But it hurt her in ways she didn’t realise.

Em had never put herself first in her life. It was always everyone else. But this time she needed to put herself at the top of the list or she’d lose herself forever.

The trip to the track was quiet before practice and qualifying. Blake had made the decision that she wasn’t working until at least Austria. And it felt right if she was really honest. The fact that she didn’t want to fight about working proved to her just how necessary it was. Instead she sat in hospitality trading between cups of coffee and juices or water. Michael kept putting big bowls of food in front of her and she couldn’t bear to eat any of it. It was all mixed together and weird textures and the fish curry he tried to get her to eat made her feel disgusting. It was sweet that he tried but no. She could pick out bites when she needed to.

Over what was officially the lunch break but everyone was spending working she flicked through a crappy romance novel on her kindle when movement caught her eye. The teams had all come in and grabbed food before going back to the garage to get the cars ready for setup or do whatever they had to do. Blake was with Dan and Michael before Dan went to a fanzine event. She promised she’d be ok sitting there by herself. Em was convinced that they’d gotten people to keep an eye on her too, but she’d be fine. She could do this.

It was the two men walking through the barely quarter full room that caught her eye but the accent was what really hit her. Zak Brown talking to an Australian wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that it was Mark Webber and not her boyfriend. Webber. Who managed last years F2 champion who didn’t have a seat. And Brown had been making comments about Dan’s performances needing to improve.

Oh no.

She always trusted her gut. Always. Her gut had yelled at her to not walk away in Melbourne, that it felt wrong, but she ignored it and look how things ended up? Her gut is what made her talk to Dan at Blake’s party nearly five years before. It made her kiss him and fall for him. Helped him make the decision to go to Renault. It was the right thing to do.

And she didn’t trust Brown. Not after the rumours and innuendo and the way her reputation took coordinated hit after hit last year. He had no reason to talk to Webber. Mark had never been in McLaren before, it was just wrong. She knew. Her gut was screaming at her, she knew. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before she could start freaking out and worrying she saw Dan arrive in with the boys, a girl in her late teens with them. Em smiled as they came over, Dan kissing her cheek.

“Em, this is Rebecca. She flew out here for the race from England. I met her at the fanzone. She wanted me to give you something but I thought she could do it herself.”

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” Em looked at the girl who had a sheepish smile on her face before holding out a small bracelet.

“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you too. I saw all the media stuff yesterday and it was awful. I’m sorry people made such a big deal about your relationship like that. I don’t get it. But I make bracelets when I’m anxious and I had beads with me so I made this for you. I hope you like it.”

Em stared at the multicoloured beads and grinned. It said FEA in the middle, patterns of blue, purple, and pink beats surrounding it. It was perfect.

“This is gorgeous. Thank you so much. And thanks for being so kind. Do you want me to take a photo of you and Dan in here?”

“Actually could I get one with you? Feel free to say no. I know it might be weird. But you and Britta and Angela make me think that maybe I could work in motorsport? I’m not good at engineering or anything like that. But maybe I could do something else.” She blushed but Em just smiled, moving her bag with London sticking out of the top so she could sit in.

“Sit in here and we can take one. Just don’t put it online? I haven’t been well, I don’t want people seeing it.”

“Oh no! No way. I just want proof this happened, you know? Thank you so much for this.”

Em watched her leave with Blake, a grin on her face and her new Paddock Club lanyard was wrapped around her neck so she could watch qualifying and the race tomorrow in style. Em slipped her FEA bracelet onto her wrist beside her enchante one, the two comforting on her wrist.

“Sorry for springing this on you. She went to give it to me, said “This is for Em, could you give it to her? There’s loads of people supporting her and she should know that.” I thought you’d want to know.”

“She’s lovely. And that means so much. But what do you mean supporting me?”

Dan opened twitter and she went to groan but instead he showed her a hashtag. #Demma4ever was trending under motorsport. She wanted to groan when she first saw it but the one thing she realised was everyone was so sweet. People unsurprised they were together. People defending them from trolls. People defending her specifically from trolls. A twitter thread from someone calling themselves @cowboydan3 who had traced their relationship since 2018 by pointing out all the times they seemed to be together. It warmed her heart.

“All these people? But they’ve never even met me.”

“Not all of them. But there’s people who did at different events and talked about how you were nice to them. Fans who you pointed out to me so I could say hi and take a photo. People who say I’m in a better mood when you’re around. Yeah there’s trolls and bullshit, but most people have gotten to know the real you. They like you, Baby.”

“Yeah. They do. When’s qualifying?” She needed to not talk about it or she’d cry in public again. She couldn’t cry again.

“Thirty minutes. You gonna watch from here or the garage?”

“The garage?”

She stood beside Blake and watched as Dan was knocked out in Q2. The only piece of justice was Lando also got eliminated, so it wasn’t a “Daniel isn’t performing” kind of day. He had two overtakes to make to get into the points. He could do that. That was definitely something that could happen.

Standing in the paddock she spotted Lance and knew she had an opportunity to get some information. When she waved he made a beeline for her, offering a hug that she gave lightly thanks to the sweaty nomex.

“Sorry about your quali, I know it’s not what you wanted. How are you?”

“We’ll get there. I’m doing ok, how’re you? Especially after everything.”

“I’ll be ok. Unexpected, but I’ll be fine. I had a question for you actually!” She kept her smile fixed and hoped her nerves weren’t showing. “Has Esteban said anything to you about what Oscar is doing while he’s looking for a seat? I know he’s Alpine’s reserve this year.”

“No, nothing. We don’t tend to talk about much work stuff. Unless Alonso’s annoyed him. Then he’ll go on a rant but I ignore it. Dan was the only teammate that Esteban really got on with. But no. Why?”

“You know Dan. Young Australian who came to Europe alone too young, plus we got to know Oscar as a Renault junior in 2020. He wanted to check in but Rossi won’t let him anywhere near Alpine so it’s hard to do it.” He laughed before Lance’s osteo, Henry, came to get him for something.

“If I hear anything I’ll tell you. The latest rumour I heard is possibly a Williams seat. Nicky doesn’t think he’ll keep his seat which sucks.”

“Yeah it does, he’s a good one. Thanks Lance, good luck for tomorrow.”

Everyone knew the rumours about the Williams seat being available. The main rumour Em had heard was that it was a Williams junior who’d get it, there were a couple of prospects in F2 depending on how the season went. Fuck. This was real. It was real and all Em wanted to do was curl up and sob but she couldn’t. She had to walk through the paddock and find Blake to talk to him, and then talk to Dan about it.

As she began to walk back to the meeting rooms Em spotted Ted Kravitz, giving him a wave and a nod as she walked past.

“And of course that’s Daniel Ricciardo’s girlfriend walking past. It’s so nice to get to call her his girlfriend, you know that? Everyone’s known for a long time, back when he was at Renault, which of course is now Alpine, she was known for getting a card for everyone for their birthday. It was probably the worst kept secret in this paddock.”

Getting Blake into Dan’s driver room was easy and she put Fearless on through speakers to muffle their voices. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have anywhere near the rest of McLaren but she didn’t have a choice.

“What’s going on, Timmy? Please tell me you’re not leaving again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She fixed him with a glare. “But we need to talk and it needs to be private. Nobody can overhear. What do you know about Mark Webber and how his career ended?”

“He was fed up of F1. I was barely in Red Bull when he was leaving, but he was done and everyone knew about it. Dan was nearly pulled up mid season. Why?”

“He had a meeting with Brown today. I watched them leave Brown’s office just beside the cafeteria. Neither of them realised I was there, the cafeteria was basically empty. But they were there for a long time and we’ve both heard him talk about Dan’s performance.”

“Ems, no. No way. Dan has eighteen months left.” She shook her head and watched Blake’s face carefully as she spoke.

“Dan has a twenty five million dollar contract break clause. He’s working himself to the bone for this team and I’m pretty sure that Piastri is going to be in his car next year. I just…maybe I’m wrong. But when has my gut ever been wrong on this? I know this Blakey. I know it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I mean I wasn’t in the room but what other reason is there for the two of them to have a closed door meeting in between practice and qualifying on a Grand Prix weekend?”

“None. Fuck. But are you really, really sure? Seriously.”

“If my mental health wasn’t in the toilet you’d believe me immediately, right?” A sheepish nod. “I know you probably don’t trust me. I don’t trust me about me sometimes right now. I’m hanging on by a thread. But this is Dan’s career, and the one thing I have always done is put his career before anything else. You know that’s what I do. I wouldn’t say this based on anything else. You know that.”

“I know. I know.” I didn’t think they’d fucking do this. I didn’t think they’d do more to hurt him after last year.”

They agreed to keep it to themselves for now, that Em would tell Dan that night. She didn’t want to mention it before the race but he deserved to know. Part of her brain was blaming herself for it. If she hadn’t left then maybe Imola would have been better and the races wouldn’t have been a mess. But she couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t change the past.

There was a sponsor gala on that she hadn’t realised was even happening, but she was his official plus one to everything. At least she’d learned to always bring a dress to wear to any fancy event with her. It was the same one she’d worn in Melbourne to the race weekend opening but she didn’t care. The dress was looser than the last time she’d worn it, the corset top hanging rather than snug against her chest and waist. Instead of heels she put on ballet flats and did her makeup perfectly. She could get through this. For Dan.

Being on his arm as his girlfriend was a completely different experience to being there with him as his assistant. She smiled and made small talk with people who actually listened to her because of that title change instead of ignoring her. But finally they were face to face with Brown and his wife. Em kept the smile on her face and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you back, Emma. We were worried about you. Dan didn’t tell us what was happening.”

“That’s because I asked him not to tell anyone. I was ill for a while, we wanted to make sure that I’d be ok before we let anyone know.” It was the same story they’d told everyone in the paddock who’d asked and he paled slightly at it. Worth every minute of not telling the full truth.

Finally they sat down for the dinner and Em stared at the plate placed in front of her. It was all traditional Azerbaijani food, but the worst part was that it was all baked together. There was nothing separate and she could tell from moving her fork through it that the textures were going to be impossible for her. Her stupid food thing and she was going to embarrass Dan if she didn’t eat anything and she couldn’t. She got some meat on her fork and lifted it to her lips, nibbling. It was tasty. But trying to swallow more than the tiniest bite felt impossible.

“You ok?” Dan whispered and Em nodded.

“I didn’t know this was the food.”

“Blake and Michael both checked there’d be food for you. We can just go back to the hotel. You need to eat something.”

“We can’t leave.”

“I’m not letting my girlfriend starve. Not with everything happening Em. You need food.”

“We can’t.” She took a breath and a sip of water, squeezing his thigh. “I’m not that hungry and I can get food when we’re back at the hotel. I’ll drink water. But listen to me. There’s something weird going on right now at McLaren and you can’t leave. You just can’t. I promise I’ll tell you everything when we get back. Just trust me?”

“I always trust you, Emmy. Promise you’ll tell me?” She could hear the worry in his voice but she just nodded, keeping her face smiling like he’d said something hilarious.

“I promise. Pinkie swear.”

A waiter came by about her full plate but Dan stepped in.

“She’s on a medical diet at the moment. We were told there’d be a special plate put aside.”

“Oh, we’re sorry. There’s none.”

She stayed by his side while they did the rounds to talk to people and sit through speeches. Dan’s hand stayed in the small of her back as she nodded and smiled and kept her mouth shut unless it was something she was confident about. Food was the last thing she wanted to deal with when they got back to the hotel. She wanted to go to bed and forget about the day, but that wasn’t going to happen. Instead they got in the same car as Lando to get back to the hotel.

“I mean I get why they didn’t give options but do they not realise picky eaters exist? It was kinda alright but I’d have liked a heads up! What about you, Em? Did you like the food?”

“Didn’t have much, medical diet.”

“Oh. I’m glad you’re back now. He was a mopey git while you weren’t travelling.”

Em knew it was just the younger man’s turn of phrase but she kept a tight hold of Dan’s hand to make sure he knew she was there. Thankfully it was a quiet drive back to the hotel. All the Hiltons in the world felt the same after a year of being sponsored by them. Walk in, hotel reception on the left, lifts around the corner and beside a vending machine. They shared the lift with Lando who waved as he stepped off on his floor. Em kept a hold of Dan’s arm until they were inside his room and he pulled her into a hug.

It wasn’t until she’d ordered room service and it was delivered that she was willing to speak. Once she had this conversation she knew she wouldn’t eat for the rest of the night. Then Dan would get annoyed and it would hurt more than it could ever help and that was the last thing she wanted to happen. So instead Em took a couple of bites of chicken teriyaki while mulling over how to say the words that she knew would devastate her boyfriend.

“When I was in hospitality between practice and qualifying I sat in the corner so nobody spotted me. I didn’t realise that I could see Zak’s office. Mark Webber came out of a long meeting in there shaking Zak’s hand and they left together about five minutes before you came in.”

It was silent in the room until Dan let out a long sigh. He slowly lay back on the bed, his head hitting the mattress. Em watched as he took deep breaths before undoing his bow tie and the top button of his shirt.

“On Saturday night in Monaco, just before I got you from Aston Martin, Andreas called me into his office. He told me that my seat is at risk if I don’t perform better. Fuck. Fuck!” He whisper yelled the last word and sat up while rubbing his face. “I didn’t want to worry you, that’s why I didn’t tell you what he said. You were so fucking fragile Baby. I couldn’t. You still are. I thought it was just a warning.”

“Is it because I left?” The words hung in the air for a moment and she wanted to get sick. Fuck. Fuck all of it. She left and Dan struggled and now he was going to lose his seat and it was all her fault how could she have done that to him?”

“No, no. No Baby. I promise you it’s not because you left.” He pulled his suit jacket off while coming over to pull her into his arms and push a kiss to her head. “I just can’t make the car work. It steers weird and the braking doesn’t work the same was as any other car I’ve ever driven. You being here makes it easier to clear my head when I’m not stuck in the car. But you made me promise in Spa that day to have a clear head before I get in the car. I swear, I clear my mind every single time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I couldn’t. You just came back and I was so scared you’d leave again. If I told you you’d blame yourself and leave. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not telling you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She held his face with her fingers and looked up at him. “You were right not to say anything then. I was barely thinking then. I still barely am. I couldn’t hear it.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I still forgive you. I love you, you did the right thing, Danny. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. If he said that on Wednesday I might have walked away. But I’m not finished. I think I have more left in me.”

She lay on the bed and pulled Dan into her. Getting changed out of her dress was too much work, he needed to be loved and held and cared for. Tears began rolling down his face as she clung to him, her fingers carding through his curls.

“Remember when we were in lockdown on the farm? I promised you when you were deciding if you were going to leave Renault then that I wasn’t going anywhere. The colour you wear on race week isn’t going to change my mind about that. I said it then and I’m saying it now and I mean every word of it. I love you so much and not being together nearly killed both of us. You can learn to be a mechanic and a househusband with our unicorns.” A wet laugh bubbled out of his chest as her words settled into him and she kept talking.

“We can have our barn with our horses and our kids like we talked about. I don’t care about going and working in some office. We can have breakfast for dinner and lunch and breakfast. Pancakes three times a day, yeah?”

“I thought you hate my cooking?”

“I like your breakfasts. And I love you. I don’t love the Honey Badger. I don’t love DannyRic. I love my Danny. You’re the man who taught me that love can be a good thing. Yeah it hurts sometimes but it’s worth it. I want my life with you, whether that’s F1 or endurance or Indycar or anything else. I want you, Baby. I’m going to follow you to the end of the world. Do you hear me? Whatever you want to do next. I’m going to be holding your hand and right there by your side. Wherever you want to go. I promise.” Her voice was low as he sobbed into her dress. He’d held her as she sobbed the week before and it was her turn now. He was her boy and she wasn’t leaving him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you so much, Baby.” She stayed there holding him as he cried himself to sleep and then just stared at him for hours. Dan needed to get it all out. He’d been holding it in since she left and he needed to cry. Em held him and ran her fingers through his hair and watched as he finally fell into some kind of a restful sleep.

It was another disturbed night for her but she woke to banging on the hotel room door, Dan turning his head into her to get away from it.

“One minute, Baby. Lemme get it.” She squeezed his shoulder before answering the door. Michael was on the other side, his face changing when he saw her attire.

“Dan’s meant to be at breakfast, what’s going on? Why are you…?” He trailed off and indicated to her outfit.

“It was a bad night. Order something for Dan for breakfast, we’ll be down in fifteen. Order me some toast please? Just toast, and if they’ve got smooth peanut butter some of that too. Otherwise plain toast.”

“Can you make it ten?” If she was honest she didn’t think she could make it in fifteen, but ten was definitely out of the question.”

“Fifteen. We’ll be down.”

Getting Dan up and changed was hard but she did it, putting on yet another merch tee and carrying a bag he gave her. Everything screamed “I’m Daniel Ricciardo’s girlfriend” and she didn’t care that it did. She needed to be his to the world. Em was broken and battered and in pain, but her Danny needed her. So she was standing beside him and staring down the world while holding his hand and supporting him because that was what he needed. She could do this.

Walking into breakfast the mood at the table was quiet. They all ate something, Dan swapping the bowl of yogurt and granola at her place for his egg white omelette.

“Mate that was-“

“Em doesn’t eat mixed up food. And she doesn’t eat granola because of the texture. At least this way she’s eating something. When have you ever seen her eat granola?” Michael shushed at Dan’s words, at the clear tension in both of their shoulders. She picked at the omelette before passing more than half of it back to Dan. He was the one racing. He needed to eat. The fucking race.

Arriving to the paddock had her heart in her throat. This was race day. The big event. There were cameras about to be on her and as little as she wanted to see them she knew it had to happen. Sitting in the back of the car Dan looked across at her.

“You can wait for me to go through. I don’t mind.”

“I’m going inside holding your hand. I’m a wag now, i have to act the part. Right?” He grinned at her but the smile didn’t reach his eyes this time.

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Her pass scanned easily and let her through the turnstiles as the photographers at the entrance got a picture of Dan waiting for her while holding his hand out. She ignored the loud shouts and just focused on moving forward one step at a time. Dan’s hand was a comforting weight in hers as she kept one foot going in front of the other.

“Emma! Dan! Over here!” The calls were coming from each side but her sunglasses hid her worry. Instead they made it to the FIA building before someone else arrived and attention was taken away from them. It was a relief and she was able to relax a little bit. Race mornings were always hectic and she kissed Dan goodbye before sitting in front of McLaren with a coffee to watch the paddock go by.

“Is this seat taken?” She turned and saw Carmen asking, smiling and gesturing for the younger woman to sit down. They’d texted once or twice, given each other cafe recommendations for London and chatted when they saw each other in the paddock. “Welcome to the official ‘I’m dating a Formula One driver’ group. How’re you doing with the media attention?”

“It’s a lot.” Carmen knew what it was like, Em was able to be as honest as possible with her. “I mean I had it anyway because of work and all the speculation. But this is different. Plus I haven’t been around so yeah, it’s a lot. Hopefully it’ll die down.”

“It will. It’s bad the first couple of races but then it’ll relax because you’re there most weekends. You’ll be fine. I just wanted to check in because I know you were sick. Are you feeling better?”

The nerves and worry and fear from the night before were coming back in full force but she bit her tongue and nodded until she was ready to speak. “It’s gonna take time. But I’m getting there.”

“If you want to talk about it I’m here. I get the going from being in the normal world and then diving in here. Or if you want to get food or a coffee. Lily will be in Silverstone for Alex’s home race. We’re both going to get food the Thursday before. You’re welcome to come for dinner with us as just the girls.”

“Maybe? Dan’s parents are in Europe, they’ll be in England then. Plus we’re trying to find somewhere to live. It’s a whole thing.”

“The offer is there. Especially race weeks if you have time away from work. If I don’t see you later I’ll see you in Montreal? Susie asked if I knew if you were going. She said to say thanks about that restaurant in Melbourne, Jack loved it.”

“Tell her she’s welcome. And yeah, I’ll be in Montreal but it depends how I feel? I’m still doing a slow return to work so we’ll see how it goes.”

She watched Carmen walk away as her hair shone in the sun, effortlessly walking around the paddock like a model. Would she ever get to that stage? She could do it when Dan was at Renault, but most of that was because she blended into everyone when she wore the Renault shirts. It was different now.

Her spot outside hospitality meant that she could people watch while she did some googling. Searches for online therapy turned to hybrid therapy and finding someone she could see in person when she was in London. One therapist had open slots so she booked an initial appointment online. The time difference would suck while she was in Montreal but it was worth it. She needed this. She needed to work through the pain and the grief and the heartbreak she felt over the last few months because Dan needed her and she needed to keep him together.

She went to lunch with the boys and Dan before standing in the back of the garage and kissing the side of his helmet before he got into the car to bring it out to the grid.

“Go fast and be safe, ok?” She looked into his eyes, visor still up. “I love you no matter what happens. I promise.”

A squeeze of her hands was everything Dan needed to do to show his love and she stood in her spot in the garage just waiting. Her pass gave her grid access but she never went up there. Going on the grid felt like she’d be a distraction.

Watching Dan cross the line in P6 made her grin, hugging Blake close. She knew it wasn’t enough. Something in her knew that anything short of a race win wouldn’t be enough. But he beat Lando and that was what she really cared about. She would get to walk out of the paddock holding Dan’s hand, and the next morning they were flying straight to Montreal to have a couple of days together before the chaos of the next race began.

She could do this. She could do it. She wasn’t going to break. She was going to make sure that she kept going forward. For her, and for Dan.

Taglist: @dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav @neiich @luckyladycreator2 @scotlynaurora @belledawnidk

[porcelainseashore]

Hello I require more information about Wynter. My character autism has been activated. I must know more.

Hello there! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your patience and interest in my beloved, I know it took a while. Here's a brief history of Wynter and her family, leading up to Night Road events:

(Adding a 'read more' due to topics of violence, sex, death, and incest)

Wynter della Passaglia was born in 1977 in a small, sleepy town of Louisiana. She is a third generation American of Chinese and Italian heritage, an only child with a Catholic upbringing. Her parents did not know that they are part of an obscure bloodline of the Giovanni as the ones that came before them either purposely removed themselves or were shunned from such dealings years ago. Though they tried to represent themselves as an ordinary, functioning family, there was nothing normal about them, and this manifested itself in various ways. Think "Southern Gothic family mansion housed full of skeletons and secrets." Bonus tidbit: Wynter's mother potentially had ties to the Kuei-Jin.

Growing up, Wynter became rather fond of and close to her uncle, Lucien, the younger brother of Wynter's father, pushing 40 yet single and never married. Although he was a busy man working as a Lieutenant at the Criminal Investigation Division in a neighboring city, he always made time for her, spoiling her with gifts. From a young age, Wynter felt as if she had the Beast within her and started acting out. Lucien recognized this as an innate bloodlust that needed to be sated and took her hunting, teaching her to use her father's rifle and a handgun, as well as taxidermy. This quelled the desire within her. Bonus tidbit: Lucien was the sole family member who was somewhat aware of the Kindred world and eventually became a ghoul to a mysterious benefactor.

Throughout this period, there was an undeniable attraction that rippled off Lucien and Wynter like a calling in their blood. They tried their best to ignore this and did not act on it. Lucien dated other women and in return, Wynter put on her coquettish charm, hitching rides in cars with older guys and hooking up with them. During one such ride, the man she was with turned out to be a Rodney Alcala type with less than savory intentions. Too bad he didn't know that she had killer instincts too. She managed to escape and together with Lucien, tortured and brutally murdered the man before covering it up. Sexually aroused by her first real kill, Wynter gave in to her attraction to Lucien and they became intimate for the first time.

Afterward, Wynter skipped town as she was overwhelmed by the whole ordeal and decided to start afresh in a new city. Although she never told anyone about her whereabouts, she received postcards every year in the mail with cryptic clues. Struggling to make a living, she pawned off—unknown to her—a family heirloom in the form of a silver photo frame. Word got back to The Family and Violetta della Passaglia found her, Embracing her on the spot in 2000, at the tender age of 23.

I won't go too much into Night Road, but the difficult years and betrayal of trust by Julian hardened Wynter, turning her naïveté into the stone-cold, cynical, femme fatale courier that we know her as today. Needless to say, she and Julian are on irreparable terms, especially after she efficiently dispatched of his ghoul, Nadia. On the other hand, what started out as a strange, mutual affection with Lettow developed into something more. Yes, they are still navigating their relationship in light of the Aila incident, and yes they have a bunch of communication issues to work through, but having each other is enough for them and ultimately, better than learning to live without. Apart from that, Wynter has aligned herself with the Camarilla, taken on Elena as a ghoul, and followed Lettow to Cairo, where they are heavily entrenched in the Gehenna War.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[myhauntedsalem]

The Ghost Monk of Newby Church

This photo, taken of the altar at the ‘Skelton-cum-Newby Church of Christ the Consoler’ in 1963, created a sensation when published. It was found in many books detailing the paranormal throughout the 1980’s.

The figure of a ‘monk’ standing to the right of the altar was not present when Reverend K. F. Lords took the photo.

The Church had no stories or experiences of the paranormal, and to date no one has been able to explain who the figure may be.

The photo you see here was taken by Reverend K.F. Lords in 1963. The focus of the picture was the altar in the Church of Christ the Consoler found in Skelton-cum-Newby in North Yorkshire, England.

At the time the Reverend had seen nothing out of the ordinary but, upon processing, the photos showed a curious and frightening extra. A hooded/cowled monk like figure is clearly visible (though a little transparent) standing to the right of the altar.

The figures arms seem to be folded together in a typical ‘monk-like’ pose and its long robes clearly cover the feet and drape over the step it is standing on.

But most intriguing of all is the long cloth facemask that occludes the figures face except for two eye holes. It is this mask that gives it the air of something one may see in a horror movie (it is often referred to as a ‘Scream’ mask).

Understandably the Reverend was shocked to see the figure in his photo.

There has never been stories of paranormal events that have taken place within the church. At the time the photo was taken the church had not yet seen a century of existence. Actually the reason why the church was built is interesting in itself.

In April 1870 Frederick Vyner, son in law to the 1st Marquess of Ripon (essentially a nobleman of hereditary rank… aka a very important person) and several other important Italian and British tourists were travelling through Greece when they were ambushed and abducted by Greek Brigands.

On the 11th of April a large ransom was demanded for the release of the diplomats, lords, councilmen and other people of note including Frederick

Although some of the funds were gathered and paid to the brigands a failed rescue attempt saw Frederick and two of his companions murdered. Fredericks mother saw to it that the remainder of the ransom that had been raised would be used to construct two churches in memory of her son; The Church of Christ the Consoler in Newby (upon her own land) and the near identical St Mary’s Church at Studley Royal (on Fredericks sisters land).

Fredericks last written words while held in captivity were “we must trust to God that we may die bravely as Englishmen should do.”

Construction of the Newby Church began in 1871 and was complete by 1876 making it a not very old church by English standards. It is also doubtful that due to its age (or lack thereof) that any monks would have taken up residence within the church or its grounds.

As for the photo itself, straight away people will say it’s just a double exposure. It certainly looks like one with the near uniformity in the transparency.

However over the years groups of experts, some times independent and sometimes hired by larger entities (the BBC for example), have taken a close look and can not find proof that a double exposure is at play here. These same analysts have spotted and proven frauds before but the Newby photo seems to have them stumped.

Could it be that this example of a ‘too good to be true’ and ‘looks totally dodgy’ photo taken by a Reverend of the church in 1963 is the real deal?