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cuubism · 1 month ago

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thoughts had while traveling turned into a ficlet

[E]

After university, Hob had always kind of assumed they'd end up in the same place. He doesn’t know why he was so foolish as to think that. But he was always foolish about Dream.

Hob had stuck around in London. He liked traveling, liked seeing new places, but London was home. And it was nice to feel like he had roots somewhere. Like he was maybe sort of building a life.

Dream, meanwhile, had essentially vanished.

He’d picked up some kind of remote editing job that he could do anywhere on top of his writing, and took full advantage of it to bounce all over the globe. Hob didn’t even know all of the places he’d lived, Dream moved so often.

He’d been in Los Angeles for a while and apparently hated it. He’d been in Singapore for about six months at some point. Then he’d been in Istanbul— or was Istanbul before? At one point he’d been in a rural village in Slovenia.

(Hob got emails about these things.)

Then at one point, he’d been in Paris, which at least seemed to suit him a tiny bit better. Still hadn’t last long, though.

Now, Hob’s not sure where he is. He tries not to take it personally. Tries not to take it like he wasn’t enough for Dream to want to stay. Dream just had some things to figure out, he thinks. That’s all.

One day, seemingly at random, he gets a FaceTime call.

“Hob.”

Hob squints at the screen. It’s very bright. He can barely make Dream out. “Where are you?”

“Rhodes,” Dream says.

He pans the phone around to show Hob what must be just about the most gorgeous beach he’s ever seen. It’s a little cove with fishing boats bobbing, water still and sun-drenched.

Dream turns the camera back around. He looks like he’s been crying, eyes red-rimmed, eyeliner smudging. He’s sitting on the sand, phone propped on his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Hob asks, alarmed.

“Is it better,” Dream wonders, “to be full of despair on a beautiful beach, or does it not matter?”

“What d’you mean?”

Dream wipes at his eyes. “I. I thought if I just went. Somewhere. That it would get better. Death even said. Try changing your environment. I did. I did.”

“You did, you went to a lot of places, didn’t you?”

Dream nods, and sniffles. “Why didn’t it fix anything?”

“Oh, darling.” So that’s what it is. He’s just running away from himself.

“What is wrong with me,” Dream continues, “that. I am sat watching the sunset in one of the most beautiful corners of the world. And I feel nothing.”

“It’s not the corner of the world that's the issue,” Hob says, and Dream sighs, sniffling again.

“I want to go home,” he says, despondent.

“Come home, then.”

“Is that still with you? After all I’ve put you through?”

“Yeah, Dream.” To my peril. But Hob will never be able to turn Dream away. “It is.”

Dream nods. “Okay.” Then he stands. “I suppose I may as well go for a swim, while I am still here.”

“Not going to drown yourself, are you?”

Dream huffs. “No.”

He risks the fate of his phone taking Hob with him, though. Holds it above the surface as he treads water, hair increasingly fluffy and clumped together from salt.

“It really is gorgeous,” Hob tells him. The water is so, so blue and the sky so wide. “You’re making me jealous.”

Dream smiles faintly. “You would enjoy it better than I.”

“Maybe. I’m enjoying watching you though.”

“Oh?” Dream raises an eyebrow. Only his throat is visible above the water, but it’s enough. Hob can imagine the rest. His attraction to Dream’s never wavered. “Tell me more.”

“Come home and find out instead, idiot.”

Dream smiles. “Hmm.”

“Oh yeah, hmm.”

Dream’s smile widens. God, he’s so gorgeous. “You’re making me want to leave now.”

“Do it then.”

“Okay.” He starts swimming back to shore, and Hob laughs.

“I missed you, you maniac.”

“I missed you,” Dream echoes.

“S’gonna be okay, yeah?” Hob tells him. “So Rhodes didn’t fix anything. It’s alright.”

“It’s alright,” Dream echoes, eyes looking misty again.

“Just come home.” Hob can’t promise to fix anything. But he can promise Dream a home.

“Yes,” Dream agrees, sea water flowing around his throat, sunset in his hair. “Yes.”

Hob half-expects Dream actually won’t. That the flash of melancholic clarity will give way to his usual method of running, that Hob will get an email that he’s now in Samarkand or somewhere and isn’t actually coming “home.” Maybe London isn’t really home for him. He hasn’t been there in years anyway. Maybe.

But one day Dream wanders into the pub they used to get Friday drinks in, the pub Hob’s taken up bartending in, partly for the extra cash, partly to feel closer to Dream.

Hob drops a glass when he sees him, Dream flinching at the crash where he stands in the doorway. Hob ducks behind the bar to clean it up, heart pounding. God, he’s actually here. After three years.

When he stands again, Dream is standing right before the bar, looking uncertain. He’s terribly underdressed for the weather, hair damn from the rain, black t-shirt sticking to his shoulders.

“Um,” Hob says, wringing a bar towel in his hands. “Get you your usual?”

Not that Dream’s usual is necessarily the same, after all this time—

Dream leans across the bar and hugs him.

“My usual,” he says, voice so close to Hob’s ear now that he shivers. Dream’s damp hair tickles his cheek. Hob ought to get a towel and dry him off.

He hugs Dream back, leaning awkwardly over the bar. “Missed you.”

Dream hums, finally releasing him. He takes a seat on a bar stool, a faint smile on his face now. On instinct Hob takes off his sweatshirt—New Inn branded—and gives it to him.

Dream takes it, gaze lingering on Hob’s face as he pulls it on. He immediately looks less frigid, though.

“Is it still the driest red on the menu that you want?” he asks, and Dream laughs.

“Yes.”

Hob pours him one, sliding it across the bar. Their fingers brush. It feels, almost, like no time has passed at all. Nothing changed.

“So,” Hob says, grateful there are no other customers awaiting his attention. “Rhodes?”

“The last of many,” Dream says wearily.

“Looked beautiful?”

“Yes,” Dream agrees, and sips his wine.

“So.” It’s hard to ask what he really wants to ask. Are you actually back? Are you actually here for me? “Are you. You have somewhere to stay?”

“I am not wandering the streets,” Dream says with a half smile. “I have a hotel room. For now.”

“Still itinerant,” Hob says, before he can think better of it, and Dream’s smile turns sad.

“Yes.”

“Learn anything?”

“I learned that moving about doesn’t fix anything when the problem is inside of you,” Dream says. Hob winces at the phrasing of it. There’s no problem with you, he wants to say. But he understands what Dream’s getting at. “I do not know what does fix it,” Dream continues.

Hob doesn’t either. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in Dream’s head. “Try staying here, then,” Hob says. “What’ve you got to lose?”

Dream studies him. “Indeed.”

It really does feel like nothing and everything has changed between them. But maybe not everything. And maybe it’s okay.

He rests his hand against Dream’s on the bar. “Finish your wine,” he says. “And come home with me.”

Dream takes a final sip of his wine, eyes locked on Hob’s over the rim of his glass, and licks the red droplets from his lower lip as he takes Hob’s hand.

Hob has him bent over on the bed, bobbing his head on Hob’s cock, before they’ve had the chance to pass more than a few additional words. Dream seems not to need words, anyway. His expression is finally slack and peaceful, neck craning, eyelids fluttering, as he takes Hob’s cock down, down, down, Hob’s grip tight in his hair. He hasn’t lost any of his skill in these intervening years, apparently. Or his enjoyment of it.

“Yeah, that’s it, darling,” Hob praises, thrusting up into his mouth. “Good. You’re so perfect at this.”

Dream whines, the vibration traveling through Hob’s body, reaching awkwardly around himself to press needy fingers to his own hole.

“I’ll do right by you, darling, don’t worry, come here.” Hob pulls Dream off and hefts him up, sitting back so he can settle Dream in his lap. “Don’t worry, love.”

Dream looks down at him with wide, dark eyes, breathing hard, mouth open and wet. He swallows, says, voice thready, “I need you in me.”

Hob’s heart thumps, hard. It hurts. “I know.”

Dream pushes his cheek into Hob’s temple, lips smearing saliva over his skin, clutching so tight at Hob’s shoulders it hurts. “Hob.”

“Shhh.” Hob holds him close as he works him open, Dream crying out and clutching at him with each touch. God, Hob remembers what he was like. He really hasn’t changed at all.

When he finally sinks Dream down onto his cock, Dream lets out a long moan, then goes slack again as he shivers. Hob tries to breathe evenly and stay still, letting him adjust, no matter how good it feels to be buried in him again.

“It has been too long,” Dream says, when his breathing’s evened out.

“Didn’t have tons of adventures on all of your travels?”

Dream shakes his head. “Not the same.”

It’s not the same. No one Hob’s hooked up with in the intervening years has been the same, either. No one else makes this feeling rear up in him, like he would do anything for the man in his arms, like he would dash himself to pieces just to have him. It might not be a good feeling but Hob wants it nonetheless.

He doesn’t say all that. He says, “It’s not, no one takes me like you do, I’ve missed how gorgeous you are bouncing on my cock, missed how perfect it feels to fill you.”

“Yes,” Dream says. “It’s so good. I missed that. Please, Hob.”

Hob hefts him in his lap, bouncing Dream on his cock. Dream cries out, holding to him tight. “Yes—!”

Fuck, he feels good. He’s so pliant and wanting, need burning in his fingertips and his wet panting breaths by Hob’s ears. Hob would give him anything in the world.

“Came back just for this, didn’t you?” he says. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes— I missed— oh, Hob!” This as Hob nails his prostate, Dream wailing and clutching at him. Yes. Hob remembers exactly how it feels to make him feel like that. God, it’s everything to make him feel like that.

“More,” Dream begs. “More, harder.”

Hob will give him more. More and more until he’s full up on it, until it’s enough for him to feel satisfied, enough for him to cease his wanderings and stay.

He fucks Dream harder until Dream’s reduced to incoherent wailing, throwing himself into Hob’s touch like to feel nothing and everything is a relief. And Hob feels everything, too: the tight heat of Dream’s body, the dig of his fingertips, his wet panting breaths—and more than anything, the overwhelming want. He wants Dream. He has always wanted Dream.

Dream comes first, pushed over the edge with Hob’s hands on his waist and his cock rubbing over Hob’s belly. He cries out, and then wraps his arms around Hob’s shoulders, holding tight as Hob chases his own completion in his body.

Hob closes his eyes as he comes, just floating in the feeling of having Dream around him. He’s missed that so much. He’s missed Dream so much, in these years he’s been left behind.

He doesn’t realize how emotional he’s gotten about it until he feels Dream’s fingertips tracing over his cheeks, wiping away tears.

“Sorry,” Hob says, voice choked, holding Dream close even as he gently slips from his body.

Dream strokes his hair. “Perhaps I ought to go,” he says quietly, but makes no move to get up. “I fear I am being unfair to you.”

“I’m the one that told you to come back. Wanted you to.” Even if it just breaks his heart all over again, when Dream decides he still isn’t happy, and can’t stay.

“Even so.”

Still he doesn’t move to get up. Hob runs his hands up and down his back, just feeling him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Dream continues some time later, still stroking Hob’s hair. Hob’s long since buried his face in Dream’s shoulder. “How you. Can feel content.”

Hob barks a laugh. “You think I’m content?”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t know, Dream.” Content to be here, in London, maybe, to not need to uproot himself, chasing some nebulous sense of better, but content? While knowing Dream was out there somewhere?

“My mistake,” Dream says. He rests his cheek on top of Hob’s head. “Perhaps there is no contentment, then.”

That makes Hob laugh for real. He finally lifts his head, looking Dream in the eye. “You’re the most dramatic bitch I’ve ever met. ‘There’s no such thing as contentment'? Dream.”

Dream smiles, then leans in to kiss him. Hob sighs into the brush of his lips. There is such thing as contentment, he thinks.

“What if I don’t leave this time,” Dream says, when their lips part.

“You mean it?”

Dream nods, forehead leaning against Hob’s. “I am. Tired. And this. Is the first moment I have not felt fatigued in longer than I can remember.”

“I’ll have to tire you out better, then.”

“Hob.”

“I’m kidding you, love.” Really, all of Hob is leaping in cautious joy. Could Dream truly mean it? “I want you to stay. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

Dream nods, and lets Hob help him up. They make their joint way to the bathroom, where Hob pulls Dream into the shower with him, and they hold each other close under the warm spray, and Dream washes Hob’s hair with careful focus, mindful of tugging it. Afterwards Hob gives Dream some pajamas to borrow, for all of Dream’s things are still in his hotel room. Dream cuddles up to him in bed, hesitant at first, until Hob opens his arms and assures him of his welcome.

The feeling of Dream laying his head down on Hob’s chest is heavenly. It’s dangerous. But it’s so good.

"I'm sorry," Dream murmurs, into the dark.

“For what? Leaving? You don’t have to be. It’s your life.”

“I don’t know quite what for,” says Dream. “I feel I am wavering about and dragging you along with me.”

“Maybe I want to be dragged along.”

Dream lifts his head to give him a look. “Precisely,” he says, and Hob feels skewered. Seen in his pathetic wanting. Like if he had more self-respect, he’d hold his inconsistent friend at a distance, not invite Dream right back in to break his heart again.

Dream’s decision to leave the first time wasn’t even about Hob. They weren’t really together, more on again, off again, falling into each other and then away. “Friends with benefits.” Only Hob had always cared more about the ‘friends’ than the ‘benefits.’ Maybe if he had made it clearer, Dream would have stayed.

Maybe he needs to stop making it his fault, when it wasn’t about him.

Only. The fact that it wasn’t about him also means that it was.

“Why didn’t you stay?” he asks, grip tightening around Dream’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t happy,” Dream says. The words feel like a shove to the chest. “I didn’t. I did not know how to fix it. I tried to leave. Then I tried to leave again. Only. You can’t leave yourself.”

“What makes it different this time?”

If London— if Hob— didn’t make him happy before—

“Maybe nothing,” Dream admits, quietly, still lying on Hob’s chest. “Maybe it was a futile chase from the start. And I should give up trying.”

“Dream—"

Dream plows on, as if he needs to get it all out. “I called you because. I was staring out at the ocean. I felt nothing. But I thought, ‘Hob would like it.’ And when I showed you, that did make me happy. For a moment. And when I told you how I felt… that made me happy, too.”

Hob wants to say something, but his throat is too tight. God, Dream always finds new ways to break his heart.

“I think that maybe contentment is not… for me,” Dream adds, fingertips stroking lightly up and down Hob’s side. “But the closest I've felt, in fleeting moments, is when I am with you.”

“Dream…” this time it comes out as barely a breath. “My love.”

“Still?”

“Yeah. Always.” Maybe Hob doesn’t have very good self-preservation. But it’s Dream. It’s always been Dream.

“For me as well,” Dream says, and Hob lets out a long, heavy breath.

“Now you’ve got to show me Rhodes in person,” he teases, to break some of the heaviness in the air.

Dream’s smile curves against his skin. “You will like it.”

“I’m sure.”

“I think I will like it more with you there,” Dream adds.

“Yeah?” Hob says.

“Mmhm.”

“I think you just want to ogle me on a beach.”

“If I’m to be in a beautiful place, I ought to have a beautiful man as well,” Dream says. The feeling of his rare smile still pressed to Hob's chest is devastating.

“Completes the picture?” Hob asks, chest tight.

“Yes.” Dream wraps his arms around him and cuddles in close. “I believe it does.”

#i was thinking about the phrase 'wherever you go there you are'#dreamling #my writing #nsft #in university dream was like 'do you want to have an emotionally devastating situationship with me?' and hob was like 'yesss 😍'#and now they're here XD #Dream shouldve just gone to Therapy instead of Los Angeles the first time round honestly 😂#god they're both awful at communicating in this verse 😂 once hob stops deflecting his serious feelings with jokes itll all be over

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everythingne · 11 months ago

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you have me and I have you -- DR3

Taking the twins to meet Daniel at a race nearly ends in disaster for the youngest, luckily you remember a little saying that goes a long way for when her emotions get too big for her all weekend away from her favorite person on the planet.

daniel ricciardo x wife!mother!reader

warnings/notes: probably inaccurate f1 information (specifically with where they live but idc its my fic), i'm not going off any actual timeline of real events dude this is just vibes, maxiel content bursting out of this fic, might make this little family a series i dunno, i don't have the most knowledge of daniel's career so mind some gaps

You and Daniel lived an exceptionally private life--surprisingly. Alpha Tauri's home base was in Faenza, Italy. And when Daniel was announced to be driving for them, you both tossed around a few different city names until Max of all people found you both a quaint little house just outside of the main touristy parts of Ravenna.

Somehow the world champion knew the both of you would find it was a perfect spot to nestle in for the time being. You knew that once the girls really got into school, like proper schooling, you'd have to settle them near Daniel's family. That's what you'd agreed to do when you planned to return to teaching full-time, but for now, Ravenna worked beautifully.

And it was beautiful too.

You had moved and traveled a lot with Daniel due to his career, it had never bothered you in the near decade the both of you had been together. The two of you never fought, sure you argued, but nothing hateful. It was usually a 'stop overthinking this' or 'stop overworking yourself on that' and with two perfectionists who adored their careers and families it could get a bit tense. But, you loved Daniel more than anything, and he loved you just the same. So it always worked out in the end.

Three years dating, one year engaged, seven years married, five years parents. Parents. Two beautiful twin daughters, you hadn't not been trying for kids, and though the girls were a surprise, they were happily welcomed by the Ricciardo's and your family when announced. And of course their loads of F1 uncles, like Max, Yuki, Lando, and of course Pop Pop and Grannie Horner, who had just about died when the youngest of the two twins--Rosella, called them that without you or Daniel prompting her to.

"She speaks the truth!" Daniel had laughed when Geri scooped the little girl up in her arms and squeezed her, kissing her forehead. Max had just laughed for like ten minutes at Christian's face before the man finally made some remark that he was "finally old enough for that title."

And then a few months later little Penelope would do the same, with a quite similar reaction.

Life in Ravenna was perfect, and you had been blessed with a remote job that allowed you to work anywhere making your life a breeze of constant travel, love, and spending nights alongside your husband or his family and friends in lavish hotels for grand prix.

Speaking of Grand Prix, it was time to get the girls moving. The two of them, Rosella Grace Ricciardo and Sienna Michelle Ricciardo, are currently settled with their suitcases beside them in the living room as you finish unplugging the necessary items and locking up the house. Rosella was playing with her stuffed bear, idly singing some song her grandparents had been trying to teach her, and Sienna was currently trying to repack her bag that you had so meticulously put together.

"Si, stop messing with your bag, sweetheart." You try to not let any annoyance sink into your tone but fail a little as you make your way to the foyer.

"Sorry, Momma." Sienna pouts and hides in on herself, her big brown eyes and bouncy curls making you think of her father--who was currently in a car going god knows how fast on the track. Max had been the one to invite you to Miami, saying it would be good to get the girls there to surprise Daniel.

What he hadn't thought of was how hard it is to get two twins through the airport, who look exactly like Daniel Ricciardo, without raising any eyebrows because this was their first appearance at the track since they were toddlers and didn't look like much of anyone except for having Daniel's undoubtedly huge smiles.

"Hey," you say, but don't explain the sentence that brings both of your daughters immediate calm, "You have me and I have you."

The sentence, something from the night before you married the girl's father basically equated to 'we've got this, don't freak out, I'm not mad and you're gonna be fine.' and whatever else it needed to at the moment and it had been a constant in the past seven or so years of your life.

And Sienna calms herself immediately, nodding at you.

You peck a kiss to Sienna's hairline as you repack her bag, "All better, nothing to be sad about, okay?"

She nods, taking her bag and helping her sister grab her stuff as you get them out to the car. The two are pretty well-behaved by now and have learned when to do as you ask and when it's okay to play around a little. You thank Daniel for that, he'd always set a good example. Once everything is in the trunk, you secure the girls in their seats and then thank one of the women you'd become close with down the road for driving you to the airport.

Natalie grins, patting your shoulder as you settle in with a big huff, "I just wish you luck getting them through the airport by yourself! Usually, you have Michelle with you."

"Well, Michelle's unable to come to Miami because she's working, so it's just me this time!" You try to hide your annoyance at the whole situation already, but Natalie just laughs as she starts to drive through the streets of your beloved town.

"Don't stress it, those girls are too well-mannered to cause a fuss."

"I hope so." You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the both of them.

The airport in Italy is a breeze, it's the Miami airport that gives you trouble with the girls because one file isn't filled out correctly. One fucking file. You end up leaving poor Geri Halliwell in the pick-up lane for like an hour while you scramble to fix it so you're not shipped off back home with the girls, who are tired and miserable and just wanna go to bed.

And you'd run out of snacks on the plane, which was another level of catastrophe as Rosella complains every two seconds she's starving and going to die while Sienna complains her feet hurt and makes you carry her around.

Luckily, the airport staff seems to take a bit of pity on you and push you through as quick as possible. You stumble out to the pick-up line to find your ride, the warm Miami air making the girls want to play a bit. Setting down Sienna you make both girls keep one hand on your suitcase as you meet Geri halfway to the car and she kneels down to give the twins hugs as they scream her name.

"So much for discreet." You huff, watching Geri happily interact with the girls. And you learn right then that she's always planning ahead (maybe it's the whole having four kids thing) as she pulls out two little baggies of packed snacks for the girls from her coat.

Once the girls spot Christian, it's game over as they sprint with their little suitcases bouncing behind them and he barely has time to kneel before they're trying to hug him.

"Lookin' good Mama," Geri grins as she picks up Sienna's discarded backpack and you laugh off the compliment as she stands, placing her hands on her hips, "I'll take it they missed us?"

"They wouldn't shut up about getting to see you guys all week after Danny left," You let her pull you into a hug as she kissed your hairline. She helps you get the girl's stuff in the car while Christian entertains the two who sit in the back seat and you end up between your daughters on the drive to the hotel.

"We rented you a room on another floor just for tonight, we figured you'd wanna surprise Danny at the race." Geri turns to talk to you as Christian drives and you nod, leaning forward so she can sit straight. Sienna's babbling to Christian about class, Rosella trying to butt in to get his attention too, and you lean your head on Geri's seat.

"Thank you guys, I'm serious when I say I'll pay you back."

"It came out of Oracle Red Bull Racing's pocket, not mine." Geri holds her hands up and you let out a soft laugh, finally feeling the weariness of the nearly twelve-hour flight.

When you make it to the hotel, Christian goes first to ensure the coast is clear, and you find they've already checked into the room so you're able to go straight up. Once inside, you thank the Horners one more time with tight hugs and a promise to bring them around to Italy soon before shutting the door.

"Momma!" Rosella whines as soon as the door is locked and dead-bolted shut, "I'm tired!"

"Me too!" Sienna copies her twin and flops on the floor and you laugh.

"Let's get you two ready for bed, yeah?" You muse, grabbing the suitcases and flipping them open, and letting the girls pick out the pajamas while you do the same with some loungewear. It's only around five at night, and you do still need to feed the girls a proper dinner, so you assume a short nap with a break for chicken nuggets before bed will be perfect.

You rouse from sleep to two sets of little hands hitting you, the girls giggling as they whisper, "Momma, momma!"

"Mhmn," You groan, rubbing your face, "Yeah?"

"Daddy called you, Rosella answered it like a big girl!"

"Mhm!" Rosella cheers, leaning to not-so-secretly whisper, "I didn't even tell him the big secret!"

"That's great--" You go to say sleepily and then you blink your eyes open when you hear Danny laughing over the phone and you sit up to your elbows and snag the phone from her.

"Both of you, shoo." You wave a hand and the girls shriek as you curl your fingers like you're going to tickle them and then sit up in bed.

"I swear I set an alarm." You laugh, rubbing your eyes as you check the clock--in Italy, it would be noon right now which would be typical for your afternoon nap with the girls.

"No big deal. I just wanted to call you when I was getting up for race day." Daniel yawns and you can imagine him rubbing at his face as he lets out a muffled groan over the phone, "How are you and the girls?"

"They're having a blast but being little tornadoes," You huff, "but I'm managing."

"Ah, that's my girl. Superstar mom." You can physically hear Danny's smile in his voice and it makes you laugh, when you ask him how he's doing he regales practice and qualifiers as you get yourself out of bed and grab the girls a change of clothes. Mouthing for them to get in the shower as you mute the phone so Danny doesn't hear the water as you turn it on. Walking back to supervise from the doorway you pop in a few questions here and there.

By the time the call is wrapping up, Sienna's gotten soap in her eyes, so you bid Daniel a quick goodbye as you scold Rosella for splashing her sister in the face and end the call. You double-check to make sure it's actually ended before you move into the bathroom.

It takes an hour for you to get ready, which means by the time you're bringing the girls down to meet with Geri, her kids, and Kelly and Penelope, all the drivers are making their way to the track.

But, of course, you have to run into Charles in the elevator.

"Didn't know you were gonna make it this weekend," Charles says as you step in, the girls shy away from him a little, especially Sienna who practically buries herself behind her sister. You laugh softly.

"Guys, it's just Charles." You say over your shoulder and they both peek up again before gasping and jumping over to hug him. He kneels down to the girls, accepting both of their tight hugs as you speak,

"We weren't until Max told me he got us paddock passes,"

"They're still that close, huh?" Charles stands once the girls release him and you shrug,

"I think Max feels bad for how it ended with them in Red Bull, kinda like how Lando and Daniel are still super close after McLaren because of--God, don't get me started actually." You pinch your nose, the wound of McLaren's drop of Daniel had been the most difficult part of your partnership with Daniel thus far. You hoped it stayed that way.

"I'm glad they're still close." Charles smiles and then bids you goodbye as a Ferrari employee starts scolding him in French--or Italian, or maybe both, as she drags him off in the opposite direction.

You cart the twins off to the little restaurant within the hotel, thanking the hostess who brings you to Geri and Kelly's table and you greet them with a happy smile. Once the kids are all introduced and settled, you relax and roll out your neck.

"I am exhausted." You announce and Kelly pushes a mimosa towards you, grinning, and you happily take it. Breakfast goes relatively well, Penelope wants to sit in your lap halfway through because she missed you, and Bluebell updates you on her applications for university.

The Halliwell-Horner kids are a mess of different parents, but all act just as loving as your own twins, it makes you smile as you notice Bluebell pause mid-sentence to make sure her sister ordered her food correctly and her brother has enough to drink when the waitress comes around to check on you all.

And then Sienna gasps and points at the TV, squealing at an ear-piercing decibel, "Dad!"

"Shh!" You hush her, both Kelly and Geri laughing as you try and handle the two kids who are excitedly pointing out their father on the TV. It's interviews from yesterday on replay in preparation for the race later. And the twins won't stop even with you, Geri, Kelly, and the other kids at the table (save for Geri's youngest) trying to hush them.

"Girls. Knock it off or we're going outside!" You hiss through your teeth, pointing at the two next to you, and Rosella literally screams 'no' at you.

"Good grief." You sigh, then grab her by the waist and wave for her sister to follow you. While Sienna's a little hesitant, a gentle tap from Geri makes the girl scoot off her chair and follow you and a screeching Rosella out of the small restaurant. The three of you settle on the floor as you try to calm a clearly upset Rosella, who curls into your side.

"C'mere, Si." You hold an arm out as you sit on the floor and Sienna curls into your other side. You wipe the frustrated tears off Rosella's face, she had always been attached to Daniel by the hip, you weren't sure why you assumed this would be easier for her than her sister.

"I know you guys are excited to see your dad, I know, I am too." You say to the two twins who sit in your lap on the floor in probably the nicest hotel in Miami, "I miss him just as much as you guys do but... we have to be quiet in restaurants. We can't start screaming like we're at home, okay?"

"Momma, 'm sorry Momma." Rosella sniffles and you pepper soft kisses to her hairline and wipe the tears from her face as Sienna gives her twin a hug.

"It's okay, darling, you know you have me and I have you, yeah? You just have big emotions you wanna get out, but we have to remember inside voices and that there's always a time and place for everything, okay?" You rub her back as she hiccups, big tears rolling down her face as she starts calming down with big gasps.

The girl nods, scrubbing at her face and you give her a little kiss on the top of her forehead before giving Sienna a kiss there too.

"Are we calm enough to talk now, Ella?" You say softly and the girl nods, you scoop her up and bring Sienna back in so she can sit at the table and eat, informing Geri and Kelly you'll be right back after you take Rosella on a little calm down walk.

And you end up in a little courtyard, bouncing Ella on your hip as she speaks softly as you pause at a fountain.

"And Daddy's always there when I'm sad." She recounts as she hiccups, still crying a little as you rock her and rub her back, "and I got sad he wasn't there, and then he wasn't there to make me happy, and it made me more sad."

"Oh honey, it's okay." You look over your shoulder, swearing for the third time you're seeing Lando out of the corner of your eye--which is impossible because he's at the track and you're just being paranoid.

"Big emotions come out sometimes, it's happened to me. When your dad and I got married, I freaked out on him the night before because I was so stressed something would go wrong. I screamed at him, like a full freakout," You sigh, pressing your lips to your daughter's hair before whispering, "You know what he did?"

"What did he do?" Rosella sits back so she can look you in the eyes, you bounce her up and readjust your grip.

"He held me like I'm holding you now and he said 'I know you've got big emotions and so do I, but you know what we also both have?'" You remember the way he'd pressed his lips to your hairline, hands tucking you into his body as he cradled you in the bathroom of the wedding suite in the hotel,

"And I said 'no' because I was having big emotions, and he said 'You have me and I have you.' Just like right now, Ella, you have me and I have you."

"Oh! That's why you and Daddy say that." Ella smiles, kicking one of her feet a little and you nod. She wipes the last of the tears from her eyes and you kiss her cheek, before walking back to the restaurant when she claims she's finally calm enough to eat and be a little quieter.

About ten thousand things are happening in the Alpha Tauri garage when you sneak in with Yuki's help. You see Daniel off to the side, talking with some engineers with a stressed expression, and instead of walking over to wrap your arms around him like you want to-- you cart the twins off to his driver's room and settle them in there.

"Should I get him?" Yuki asks once he's finally gotten Sienna to pry off his leg and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Surprise, remember?" You speak softly, hushing the giglging twins.

"Yeah, but he's..." Yuki makes a face and you roll the idea around in your head. The girls had never seen Daniel frustrated, any sort of negative emotions you and Daniel tried to keep away from them.

"How bad?" You ask, mouthing one to ten, and Yuki mouths back a solid nine. So you groan, dragging your hands down your face and holding up a hand for him to wait while you kneel down and wave the girls over.

"Listen, Ella, Si." You poke their arms playfully as they quiet down their giggles when you slowly lower your hands to the floor, "Quiet time, okay? Momma's gonna go out and see where Daddy is, and I might bring him back here, okay?"

The girls nod and you kiss both of their foreheads before leaving the driver's room with Yuki and speaking softly, "I'll come with you."

He nods and waves you along, making his way through the back hall and back into the main area of the garage where Daniel was standing with his back to you. Mouthing good luck, Yuki slips off to stand beside Daniel as they talk racing stats. You just stand for a while, watching your husband as he clearly fusses over some fudging of numbers and how the team seems to be running whatever tactic on a sort of hail-mary moment. You know he hates leaving it up to fate.

"Okay, well," Daniel groans, clearly wanting to change strategy but knowing he's unable to do so, "I don't even know."

Yuki suggests something, but it gets shot down, and then you slowly start to inch forward. You see the videographers and photographers readying themselves for the moments, cameras lifting up high as they wait for the moment or whatever line will come out of your mouth.

"This is literally just as frustrating as getting the twins to relax on a plane," Daniel complains, Yuki smirking and biting the inside of his cheek as you finally cross the room to stand behind your husband.

"I dunno, I did pretty well--"

"--Holy shit!" Daniel shouts, barreling himself into you as he sweeps you off your feet in a loud laugh, "Oh my god! Hello! What?! When did you get here?!"

He sets you down after a tiny spin and presses a long kiss to your lips before you can explain, his hands firm on your hips and your arms tossed around his neck, just like puzzle pieces.

"Max got me passes, we got in last night. Blame the entirety of Red Bull." You wave a hand and Daniel kisses you once more, arms now wrapping around you.

"Okay, fuck strategy for a moment, I need this." He says to the Alpha Tauri team who wave him off and laugh, and you let Daniel just bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the way too expensive Dior perfume he'd bought you for your birthday, and sigh out his stress.

"You have me and I have you." You murmur to him, pressing your lips to the side of his head, since it's all you can reach at this angle, a very similar angle to which his mini-me had been held in only a few hours prior.

"I know." He steps back, then blinks at you, "Wait. The twins are here too aren't they?"

"How the fuck--"

"You aren't wearing your necklace you always wear when you have someone babysit them for the weekend." He pokes the necklace you are wearing, one of your last names written in one of the prettiest fonts you'd ever seen, the gold blackened and dirty from its constant wear. A wedding gift from his mother.

"You little shit." You whisper, before turning and shouting, "Ella! Si!"

And it's like they were waiting for it because the sound of the door slamming against the wall followed by the patter of small sneakers sounds through the garage as the twins sprint to find you and their father. Their joyful screams overlap as Daniel drops to one knee to scoop both girls in his arms, fawning over their matching sundresses (custom-made to be the same color as his racing suit, as is the dress you wear) as he lifts them up to your height.

"Look at my girls." Daniel smiles, letting the twins babble on about whatever as he turns to press a kiss to your cheek, "Thank you."

"Thank Max." You step up to take Sienna from his arms so he can easily hold Rosella, but the arm you've freed snags you by the hip and pulls you close.

"There we go!" He grins at you, "All three of my girls in one place, yeah?"

And it's perfect, a little slotted puzzle piece, and regardless of if they figure out whatever issues are going on with the car you know Daniel will be loving every minute of Miami this year. Just because the three of you are there as his backbone.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo fic

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kiyomitakada · 1 month ago

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okay fuck it i went to a leonardo da vinci exhibit today and now i have a leonardo da vinci death note AU in my head because i am a parody of myself so you can fucking have it i guess what do i even do with this

light yagami: young genius polymath who is good at literally everything

unfortunately for him he is a foreigner in italia (his family immigrated) so the government is not letting him anywhere near their weaponry projects. instead he does art. yes light yagami painted the mona lisa no i do not take criticism i’m in too deep

his portraits are predictably amazing. smash hit. soon aristocracy from all over italy is contacting him to draw them and their mother. this means he doesnt even have time in the day to draw giant fuckoff warship designs anymore. what point is there to life, he sulks.

eventually he accepts a commission from one kyosuke higuchi! we’re italianizing him because i really don’t think this AU works otherwise but let’s call him higuchi anyway. higuchi is a fifty-something duke of something or other who has recently married one misa amane who is twenty-something (the same age as light). misa is the subject of the portrait because higuchi just loves his darling wife so much (read: they had a shotgun wedding and higuchi needs to keep up appearances)

light is like wow someone who isn’t white it’s been like five years. i kind of feel bad for her, this situation is very suspicious. hello miss amane if you’ll just sit down over there while i get my brushes

misa (seeing the first person who has been even remotely sympathetic to her absolutely horrific life, noticing he hasn’t tried to make any advances on her at all [this is a good thing]): I AM DRASTICALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU.

light: what

misa’s plan of seducing light predictably fails because he’s light, so she explains she has to get the fuck away from higuchi somehow

light is like okay well i am sorry to hear that but what does this have to do with me.

misa, tearing up: im a damsel in distress! also i can get you information about his court

light: whats his job

misa: financial advisor

light: oh fuck yes okay

so light’s plan is now to worm into the yotsuba court to get funding and hopefully sway them enough to let him pitch his cool weaponry ideas so he can Change The World. he does need income in general too (both for himself and his family; expected lifespan was way shorter then obviously).

misa’s plan is to kill higuchi somehow which will be much easier with light as backup she thinks

so. light packs up and moves to the yotsuba court which is thrilled to have THE light yagami portrait artist (i do more than portraits…) in their employ

oh yeah, misa mentions, the prince of the yotsuba court is kind of… weird

light: you could have told me this before

misa: ehe. dont worry about it!! it’s just um. he had a weird personality shift a few years ago? and now he refuses to wear royal attire. he always dresses like a peasant.

light: well it’s not like i’m going to be there to judge him on fashion am i.

THAT’S RIGHT. SIKE THIS IS AN ISEKAI NOW. yes L does remember light killing him <3 he (L) woke up in fifteenth century renaissance italy in a twenty-something-year-old body immediately after the heart attack. by some miracle he already knew italian.

so everything is going swell until one day light walks into his workshop to find the prince flipping through his notebook

light, sleep deprived: hey what the fu—i mean. uh. good morning your highness

there’s no need for that formality. call me L.

(…but your name doesn’t start with an L?) thank you, your highness L. um. sorry i know my handwriting’s messy.

on the contrary i find it completely readable, as long as one reads backwards and caesar shifts it three letters forward.

(oh SHIT he’s onto me) haha what are you talking about?

in fact i think this mechanical dragonfly contraption is rather ingenious.

oh aha that’s not important, just a passing fancy honestly

[ignoring him] if only you had some better way of providing torque, because as it stands the spring engine is extremely poorly designed.

what the fuck did you just say to me

[they end up physically fighting over the notebook because of course they do. meet cute!]

some more details:

ryuk is the patron light eventually gets after being in higuchi’s court for a bit

rem is higuchi’s personal assistant, who was disowned by her own royal-blooded family because her family sucks. she hates her job. if it weren’t for misa she’d probably be on the other side of the country by now

i don’t know where the wammy kids are. they’re definitely competing to be the heir to L’s throne but also they’re not related because there is no way that all the wammy kids (the whole orphanage of wammy kids) could have come from the same person. maybe some kind of insufferably high collar royal boarding school? did they even have those? help me

kiyomi and teru are both advisors in other courts (which are extremely corrupt, light seethes, in his perfect world there wont be any of those anymore) (you work for a court light) (thats different)

okay i’m done for today. you never know about tomorrow though. /threat.

[ @deathnotetober day 12: isekai ]

#i think theres so much you could do with canon L meeting au light but i cant fucking write renaissance dialogue so here you go #death note #light yagami #misa amane #l lawliet #our three major players!#lawlight #deathnotetober #higuchi is here too but i dont know if this is enough of a him post to warrant the tag #DISCLAIMER: i know nothing about leonardo da vinci outside of the exhibition i went to today #sorry for any historical inaccuracies #on the plus side if you spot any you probably have enough knowledge to write this

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2rats1gogh · 8 months ago

Note

I know people have this fantasy that Helaena would marry some Stark, Tully or Tyrell but a fantasy is truly what it is.

If she married Aegon or not, Helaena was never going anywhere. She claimed one of the biggest dragons in the world as a child, a female dragon who has laid eggs. Her only choices were always going to be one of her brothers or her nephews HAD THEY NOT been bastards. Or maybe it would have been a Hightower cousin, or one of Corlys Velaryon’s nephews but whoever her husband was, he was never going to be the Warden of anything or the Lord of his own castle. Helaena was never going to leave Kingslanding.

Alicent may have wanted her daughter close to her to protect her because of Helaena’s nature and because of her own experiences as a child bride but Viserys (who doesn’t know Helaena or give a damn about her personally) was definitely not marrying Helaena out to someone powerful and putting more trueborn obstacles in Rhaenyra’s way when he already had 3 trueborn Valyrian looking sons who would marry someday.

Targaryen daughters may marry out for a generation but their child is expected to marry back in. Daella was married into house Arryn but Aemma was married back in. Also to note that Daella was a second wife and her husband already had heirs, Visarra had she not died would have been married to a Lord who had already married several times and had already had heirs. Their sons would hold no lands, raise no armies full of vassal houses of their own. Rhaenys’s mother married into House Targaryen and Rhaenys married into house Velaryon and gave house Velaryon 2 more dragon riders in addition to herself. Thats why bringing her line back into the family was an important issue for the Targaryens. Helaena- a Dragon rider who could be fertile as her mother in her early years- would’ve given a non Valyrian house Valyrian blood and more potential Dragon riders.

Say Helaena marries an inheriting son of some Lord Paramount. Let’s give her 2 future Dragon riders and possibly a third as Maelor was too young when he was murdered at Rhaenyra’s request. This is 4 Dragons to whichever house she married into. These 4 dragons have an entire army behind them. They have legitimacy. What if her husband and father in law decide that the throne should be her son’s (like Rhaenys attempted to secure it on behalf of Laenor at the Great council) because Rhaenyra committed treason, sons are bastards and by law they can’t inherit anything (it’s high time we acknowledge that Rhaenyra, Laenor, Harwin, Viserys and Corlys were all breaking the law or complicit in the breaking of it.)

Team Black would hate Helaena Lady of house Stark/Tyrell/Tully/Lannister/Martell with a husband and a supportive extended family to back her because she would always choose her family over Rhaenyra’s like she does in canon.

So people need to stop blaming Alicent for this and realize that Helaena’s options were very limited and remember that in this world it’s normally a Father’s job to organize their daughter’s betrothals. HOTD seems to have thrown this piece of Lore out of the window in favor of trying to make Alicent look like a villain and for stupid scenes like Rhaenyra proposing the betrothal of the twins to their Grandmother instead of their father that she’s married to and lives with.

Literally this.

I never understood why it was so difficult for people to understand why Alicent decided to marry Helaena to Aegon. It always made sense to me personally. There are two main reasons to this:

a) Helaena is a very vulnerable girl, more vulnerable than anyone. By marrying her to Aegon, Alicent keeps her close to herself, in KL, where no one could hurt her.

b) Helaena as a dragonrider is very valuable. If she marries to some remote lord and then they pledge allegiance to Rhaenyra for whatever reason, TG is fucked and they lose a dragon. They need Dreamfyre if they want to win this war.

Helaena also couldn’t marry Jace or any other of Rhaenyra’s bastards, for a very simple reason. They are literally bastards and everyone knows it, and she would’ve become a hostage during the Dance. Also, the realm most likely would never accept Jace as a king, because no matter how kind and nice he is, he is still a bastard and that would cause a lot for problems.

#house of the dragon #hotd #pro team green #team green #anti team black #anti team black stans #helaena targaryen

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suusoh · 8 days ago

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(pwp or something idk. just got horny in the tags of my last post about eddie not looking anywhere else but at his wife and only his wife while doing his husbandly duties.)

cw: female reader, sex, eddie's orbs, overuse of the word staring because I want you to start feeling annoyed and maim this man, slight yandere (maybe if you squint?) cheesy and unfunny frank valli reference at the end.

———

he's staring at you again.

Eyes fogged with a love sick haze in them at the absolute sight of you, his wife, all warm, soft, and pliant under him. You try to close your eyes from time to time, but even when you open them again— it just comes back to the first thing you see which is this man on top of you, mouth switching between grinning and gasping, and eyes wide open.

"...Eddie?"

He hums tenderly. "What is it, dear?"

"I-I.. can you just-"

It's so hard to talk when his hips don't stop moving despite his concern. The weight and absolute mass of him on top of you and grounding you into the bed with each thrust makes it all the more harder to think straight.

Thoughts on how to sound out your request begin to blur and buzz out with him fucking into you like this. In and out, in and out, inside of you. over and over again as he buries himself deep within your cunt. your pubic bone practically connecting with his, and sending sparks of heat inside your belly with each time he ruts himself into you.

"Just what? What does my darling wife want?" He starts searching your face for any indication or answer to complete it for you what you want him to do now. Still looking at you intensely.

Looking. He keeps looking. Which is, sort of the thing you wanted to point out in the first place.

"You're... o-oh- oh-"

"I...?" he acts as if he's not quite catching on. Pondering for a second with the sounds of your moans and wanton sighs, and the creaking of the worn out bed acting as background noise to aid his thinking.

"Oh! I'm doing a swell job is that it? Is that what you're trying to say, dearest?" he lets out a content loving sigh, and your breathe stutters as he picks up his pace. "You and your words never fail to make me blush, my love."

Another particularly good thrust has you arching your back, of which he's making sure his eyes connect with yours once more while you writhe and wiggle underneath. But your wriggling quickly eases from bodily pleasure, to slowly morphing into a sense of discomfort now.

Because he's staring at you.

Again.

Which should be good isn't it? Eye contact during sex is a sign after all of a good partner paying attention to your needs. And with someone like Eddie, him paying attention to your needs is the tiniest sliver of hope you cling onto to make sure his reason for keeping you alive is a bit more... cemented, substantial even. Gives you a little bit more reason (or delusion) to believe he'd be inclined to make this relationship, make you, last longer.

(Compared to the alternative route of him using your body for his own sick dispositions, and casually stringing you all up when he's done.)

Though you're sure that this is not the type of bedroom eye contact many normally wish for.

"Y-you... you're.." you try to murmur out again.

Not that you should talk about having anything normal with this man. You might as well find the solution to world hunger long before you find anything even remotely "normal" in this place.

It's not that you're expecting him to do things normally, but can't he... can't he just... do something else maybe?

Look anywhere but you for just a split second, maybe bury himself into your neck, or close his own eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock getting squeezed, or look at any other part of your body that could possibly entrance him; mouth, chest, stomach... hell, you could even hope that he tries to glance down at your clit? Maybe marvel at the sight of where the two of you connect, since that's all his fucked up baby fever mind thinks about anyways?

You'll take anything really, just one small thing to act as a reminder that you guys are indeed having... sex— and not engaging in some sort of impromptu staring contest out of nowhere.

Because his eyes are doing absolutely nothing but looking into your own and as they continue staring at you.

and staring at you...

and staring...

Jesus fucking christ you don't think he's even blinked in the past few seconds anymore.

You let out a mix of a whine and a groan, opting to shut your eyelids close and try to shield your face away from his unmoving eyeballs by trying to wiggle your hands free out of his grasp (him and his damn insistence to hold hands while making love as he calls it.).

"What is it my love? Must I pay you a penny for your thoughts perhaps?"

"You keep staring... "

You try to wiggle free again, inadvertently adding onto the delightful friction between your parts and his— to which he gets a small shiver of his own at the roll of your hips. A light laugh escapes him at your captivating and somewhat fruitless display. He finally gives reprieve to your brain's rising fear of being uncannily perceived at, and blinks.

"Ohhh, my darling."

He lets go of one of your hands so that he can cradle your face, tilting it so he can capture your mouth into a kiss. humming into your mouth, but the humming isn't just the usual sighs of pleasure, as you can pick up the movement of him saying some words.

He pulls apart from his half kissing-half speaking into your mouth, as he slowly begins to playfully laugh again.

"You can't blame a man for looking at his wife when she's like this; all breathless and beautiful, now can you? I sure can't!"

Said wife that he just knows for certain was sent down by god all-mighty himself into the 7th circle of hell named "mount massive asylums".

When Eddie sees you, he can't help but imagine your rotting carcass somewhere else. An alternate place where those filthy bastards could have gotten their hands on you, torn you limb from limb (if they didn't have the patience to pull your teeth and your eyes out first), then have their way with using your dead body as a urinal afterwards.

You must have been scared to not have your dear husband around to protect you from all the nasty violence around the asylum, weren't you darling?

No, no. No meed to fret now and get your panties in a twist! None of that here. Not when your dear ol' Eddie is here now.

You are very much alive and perfect, preserved by your own sheer dumb luck or maybe by fate itself to be kept alive long enough for him. Just him.

And under his care, your body is experiencing the furthest thing from excruciating physical pain right now, isn't it darling? Feels good, yes? To have your husband make love to you like the passionate man he is. Lest he's supposed to take in the sight of you rolling your eyes back and your legs hooking around his waist, pulling him in for more as something otherwise?

Oh goodness him... It's almost too good to be true.

And he really can't take his eyes off of you.

#ha ha badum tssss am i right guys? i love you babyyyy and if its quite alright i need u babyyyyy to warm my lonely nights #i wrote this sleep dperived and listening to frank valli. no one come for me #eddie gluskin x reader #yandere eddie gluskin x reader #c.eddie gluskin #f.outlast #Spotify

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kemecon · 6 months ago

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skele-ghost · 1 year ago

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Fuck in the Graveyard (not really)

Summary: (Graves/Reader) You’ve been taking illegal suppressants for wayyy too long, and when you miss a dose, it all comes crashing down.

Content Warning: A/B/O Omegaverse dynamics, reader is afab, female pronouns?, substance abuse, technically is a fuck or die situation, p in v, knotting, brief fingering

Graves is kinda sweet in this one. I’ve never posted my stuff anywhere before and this is the first fic I’ve written in second person. Let me know what y’all think. I do not take requests.

(*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

The thing about taking illegal suppressants is that you have to time them perfectly. You’d better have your cycle down to a science, and you’d better take them three days before your heat, during, and three days after—and don’t you dare take them any more than 24 hours apart.

That’s how you wound up completely fucked: you took one dose two hours too late, and now the suppressants were completely ineffective. Was it really your fault? No, you’d been in the middle of a firefight, for fucks sake! But by some sick case of luck and science that made next to no sense, your heat started to build.

You hid being an Omega as much as you could. It wasn’t exactly a secret—it was there in your file for anyone to see. But so long as your heats were taken care of and you weren’t sending every Alpha within a mile radius into a rut, the military was happy.

And you were happy to let them believe that you were taking the regular course of suppressants that they prescribed you, and not the dangerous, high-dose, illegal ones that you preferred. They made your scent next to undetectable and made sure you could actually think straight when you were suppressing your heat, unlike the regular ones.

You were a specialist, an asset of high importance, and you’d be damned if you’d let your own biology stand in the way of that.

That’s why you liked the Shadows. Graves sent you a job offer after working with you on a mission gone sour in Urzikstan. He admired the way you kept your head cool when the world was falling apart around you. Even when you disclosed your designation, he shrugged it off.

“As long as you can keep your head cool like you did out there, we won’t have any problems,” he’d said.

And you’d kept your promise for nearly two years, now. But that was a long time to go without a heat, and a long time to be surrounded by the heady scent of Alpha unclaimed.

You were ashamed of the way you had to take off earlier. Once everyone was back from the mission, in one piece, settled in, you bolted, feeling the heat and sweat cling to you like a second skin.

It was sheer resolve that allowed you to keep the scent patches on for so long, little bandages clamped over your glands with a strong deodorizer, not letting anything out. You nearly passed out from the intense pain of prying them off your neck and wrists, the scent glands over-sensitive to even a breeze.

You blink away the tears quickly; you have to stay focused. You’ll drive to the safe house and crash there, get something planned. You knew the consequences of completely suppressing your heat for so long with such toxic drugs. Now you had to live with the consequences.

The little white farmhouse is remote, nestled deep in an old growth wood. It was beautiful, living up to the pictures you’d seen when Graves had shown it to you as a precaution. It had been in his family for generations before he fixed it up and decided to turn it into a safe house.

You pant as you put the car in park, staring at the building for a moment, your thoughts jumbled and disconjointed. As much as you want to melt into the seat, you have to get inside. A cold shower—that’s what you promise yourself, meek little motivation.

It manages to pull you out of the truck, onto shaky legs that want to collapse underneath you, but you push on.

They key is behind a brick on the foundation beneath the porch. It takes you a moment to remember which one—Graves had only shown you once.

Since you are the only unclaimed omega in the Shadows, he told you where the house was and how to access it. Just in case you had, in his words, “omega-related problems.” It isn’t too far from base. You’d have to figure out some way to show your eternal gratitude for the man…if you ever saw him again.

You retrieve the key and turn to make your way up the stairs, and that’s when things go sideways. You trip on the last step, crashing onto the porch with a force that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

The key falling out of your hand is the last coherent thought that you have before the pain takes over. Your sensitive skin and muscles cry out and it feels like hitting a sore bruise, everywhere.

You whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare up at the watery image of the porch’s ceiling. There’s a wasp’s nest, gross, but it’s November. They’re either sleeping or dead from the cold.

And thank god it’s cold, because at least your skin doesn’t feel like it’s completely on fire.

You know this is bad. You’ve deteriorated too quickly, the heat sneaking up and hitting you like a blitz attack from the dark.

As much as you hate to admit it, heats are necessary. It gets rid of built-up chemicals in the brain, provides a release to make new ones. Not quite like sleep was necessary, but in a similar fashion.

You’re worried that this one might kill you. You’re worried that if this one isn’t quelled and satisfied, you might end up brain-dead or in an eternal coma like the people in those stories your middle school health class scared you with.

But in the face of death? All that you wish is that you could apologize for the inconvenience. What kind of paperwork would Graves have to fill out for your corpse? Would he get in trouble for not monitoring you, for not knowing about your use of the illegal suppressants?

You slip into unconsciousness, the word ‘sorry’ on the tip of your tongue.

A whimper is all you manage as you stir awake, the first thing you notice being the thick, heavy, intoxicating scent of an Alpha, and one you know.

Graves smells like bonfires and bourbon, or maybe it’s whiskey? You make a breathy moan at the smell, brows furrowing as you feel yourself being carried.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, his voice making a nice rumble trail down your spine.

He’s holding you bridal style and then holds you close to him as he sits down, tucking your head into his neck so that you can scent him.

It cools the flames slightly, letting your mind clear itself of the fog as you finally stir, opening your eyes.

“Com-mander?” You ask, voice not much louder than a whisper.

He pulls you back, glancing down at you, his blue eyes filled with concern. “(Y/N), what’s going on? You don’t smell right, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Suppressants…not working,” you grit out, whimpering as an uncomfortable cramp begins in your gut.

“The ones you’ve been taking? Why, what’s wrong with them?” He lays you down on the bed he’d been sitting on and you whine at the loss of contact, squinting your eyes shut at the cramping.

You can hear him search through your bag, the one that had been digging painfully into your back a few minutes ago, and you hear the rattle of a pill bottle.

“Oh, (Y/N), you didn’t…” he says, and you can only imagine what his expression is as he looks at the bottle. It’s pretty damning—the prescription bottle with someone else’s name blacked out on it, half empty, label reading exactly what’s inside.

Graves returns to your side, his cool hand on your cheek turning you to look up at him. He looks…betrayed? Crestfallen? Worried, above all else, as he holds the bottle up with one hand.

“(Y/N), tell me you didn’t take these—tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” he demands, the command in his tone making a gush of slick escape you, adding to your already soaked panties.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper, tears blurring up along your waterline.

“Shit, (Y/N),” he growls, tossing the pills onto the bed, running his hands through his hair. “What do I do? You need to go to a hospital, is that it?”

You shake your head, “no, they can’t do anything. And I’d get arrested—ah!” You cry out, curling inwards as a sharp, painful cramp rolls through. Slick gushes out of you again, your organs overproducing as if they need to make up for all the missed heats. After a few agonizing moments it calms down and leaves you gasping, tears rolling down your cheeks.

You know what your options are, you know how fucked up this is, and you know that Graves is probably going to fire you after this—but you also know that you’re not ready for the final alternative.

“Please, it hurts!” You beg, pleading up at the sight of your commander above you, “please, Alpha.”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, pursing his lips in that way you’ve always found so hot, “are you sure? You’re not thinking clearly, (Y/N).”

You nod frantically, grabbing his arm and scenting his wrist, keening at the smell, “please, please, Graves.”

His restraint snaps and he climbs ontop of you, pinning your wrists to the bed and placing his mouth on yours. You moan into it, trying to lift you hips up to get some kind of friction to no avail.

He pulls away and you tilt you head aside to give him better access to your neck as he scents you, breathing in deeply and growling. You cry out as he runs his tongue and teeth along the glands.

“I never got a good smell of you, (Y/N), you always wear those damn patches and I always want to rip them off,” he nibbles along your jaw, your whines and whimpers filling the small bedroom.

“Alpha, please,” you beg, desperate, clenching around nothing when you want to be clenching around him. “Inside, please put it inside.”

“I know, baby,” he says, pecking your lips again before he pulls back, hands gliding along your sides as he pulls your shirt off. “You’re burning up.”

Tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you squirm, whining and babbling as he pulls your bra off, too. The cooler air feels nice on your sweat-sheen skin, and you buck your hips as Graves gets off of you, hooking his fingers to pull your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he curses, then groans at the sight of your slick, how it clings to your parties in wet strings before he pulls them away.

Your boots are still on and he didn’t get your pants all the way off, but maybe seeing how soaked you are makes Graves hasty.

The most pornographic moan escapes you as he sinks two fingers in your hole, your sweet little cunt sucking them in and clenching down.

“Fuck, good Omega,” Graves groans, slipping in a third finger that has you moaning even louder.

Every spot he hits is the right one, every move pure ecstasy. Your voice is a broken babble of pleads and curses and moans, begging for your commander to fuck you, to take you, to make you his.

You almost sob when he retracts his fingers, not even caring to wipe them as he rolls you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and pulling them up into the air, right against his own.

Feeling his erection against your ass, you turn downright frantic, “please please please, please fuck me, Alpha, please I need your knot so bad!”

He hisses as you rub against him and he begins unbuckling his belt, which only spurs you on more. He manages to still your hips and get his pants down, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick.

You keen embarrassingly loud as he enters you, slowly letting every inch of himself be swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

When he bottoms out, pressing against your cervix, it’s like a switch flips. You cum, whining as your legs shake, as Graves gasps behind you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he drawls, squeezing into the meat of your hips. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

Your brain is too melted with lust to be able to form any coherent sentence. When he pulls out and slowly thrusts back into you, testing the waters, you all but go limp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moan.

“Goooood girl,” he praises, speeding up his thrusts and finding a steady rhythm, your skin slapping together. “So slick and tight for me, omega, good god—“

All you can do is moan and take it. There’s no more painful cramping, and though your skin is still hot it’s not as bad. Your body is getting exactly what it needs: a good, hard fucking by a big, strong Alpha.

“(Y/N),” Graves moans, his voice sounding so sweet to your ears, “so good, baby. Better than I ever imagined.”

You keen at that, at your alpha wanting you—well, he isn’t yours, is he? It makes your heart sting slightly but that’s quickly forgotten with a slap to your ass, sending shockwaves of excitement through you.

You can feel yourself getting tighter, getting ready to be thrown over the edge again, and you can feel Graves speed up his thrusts, his knot slowly beginning to swell inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “gonna give you my knot, gonna fill you up good—“

His thrusts get even harder, even rougher, and you cry out, feeling yourself come tumbling violently over the edge as his knot catches on you, cumming in waves like the sea crashes onto shore.

Graves stills inside you, making good on his promise, shooting ropes and ropes of hot seed. You can feel his swollen knot inside you, just past your entrance, making your pussy full in the most delicious way. You hear him catch his breath before he carefully rolls you both over onto your sides, laying down with you on the bed.

You hum happily as he wraps his arms around you, placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder as both of your ragged breathing calms.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he says, his voice husky in a way that makes you wish you were his.

“Yeah,” you manage to reply, running your hands along the arms that hold you.

“I don’t want you taking those damn pills ever again,” he growls, making you shiver. “Understand?”

You open your eyes and turn to look at him, confused at the soft expression on his face. It’s almost…vulnerable? Wasn’t he going to fire you?

“Commander?”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he says. Behind his blue eyes is a fire you know well, akin to the one that dances in his eyes on the battlefield. “I’ll drug test you if I have to, but I’m not going to lose you to some stupid suppressants.”

You blink. “You’re not going to fire me?”

“What? No,” he says like you’re crazy for thinking so. “But if you want to stay, darlin,’ we’re going to need to set some ground rules.”

“Okay,” you agree, relieved. You didn’t want to lose your job, it’s a good gig. The employee benefits are killer…and you’d miss your commander.

“It’s simple, (Y/N), no more illegal suppressants, and you come to me for your heats,” that bastard smirk of his returns and you giggle.

“Are you propositioning me, Commander?”

“Hell, yes I am,” he says proudly, reaching up to caress your cheek. “Probably should’ve done it sooner.”

You lean in and kiss him, enjoying how it sweetens his scent. Your heart flutters in place, content, elated; you had only ever dreamed of this. You finally have him.

“Oh, and no more scent patches. You smell too damn good to be covered up.”

You roll your eyes at him, still grinning. “You sure about that? I don’t think you’ll like every other alpha sniffing after me.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep you safe,” he says confidently, placing a lingering kiss to your cheek. His eyes hint at something darker, “besides… they’ll catch on.”

#phillip graves #Phillip graves/reader #Graves/Reader #graves x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x y/n #shadow company #have I ever told y’all how much I hate the name phillip #honestly it’s a turn off ngl #but graves is cute even if he is a war criminal <3 #cod omegaverse #a/b/o #omega reader #alpha!graves

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daughterofcain-67 · 1 month ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭

CEO Jensen x Plus Size Female reader

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a long week of Mondays, it’s finally Friday but instead of it being celebratory, you are called into a meeting. In this meeting, you and the rest of the Customer Service Department discover the company is under new management. You can only help but wonder how this will affect your work.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This is a world where Jensen never acted in Supernatural, his acting career stopped with Smallville before Jensen changed to a different career as a business owner.

You ran your fingers through your hair after you had taken it down from its bun. It had been the longest day you’ve had in what felt the longest week of your life. No one said having this sort of a desk job was easy, to be a little more specific you were a Customer Service Representative for a casting company that made different parts needed for metal work projects. It wasn’t your dream job but you had your own little cubicle and the only people you had to interact with were the customers that called or emailed you. A nice little job for the introvert that you were.

But this week had been the type of week where every day had felt like a series of Mondays.

At least today was Friday.

You could feel every last ounce of your sanity slipping away from you as you answered the phone calls of angry and frustrated customers. It was increasingly difficult to stay calm and collected as you answered the emails of just as frustrated representatives of different companies needing a shipment of whatever parts they ordered. It wasn’t your fault that an order has been delayed! Once it’s out of the shop floor and in UPS’s hands or whatever other shipping company, it was too late to make any changes! That was not your fault, nor was it in your control.

Kind of hard to tell that to an agitated rep that wants to change an address after their order has already been shipped.

This morning was no exception to this week of perpetual Mondays and no amount of coffee was helping you this morning. Luckily it was finally your lunch break and you finally had the chance to breathe and be completely unbothered for the next sixty minutes of the work day.

At least that was what you were hoping for.

Unfortunately, while you were barely getting out of your chairs to grab your keys and go get lunch somewhere, your boss came up to your little cubicle. You didn’t dare tell her what you were thinking, but you knew you were more than ready to just go home. And if you could work remote, you would. Unfortunately that option hasn’t been presented to you just yet so you were stuck between your home and the office and you seldom went anywhere else. Not that you really cared to go anywhere that wasn't a book store or a cafe.

“Y/N, good you remembered the meeting. I was just about to come and get you! We’ll be in the conference room.” Natalie told you, causing you to plaster that professional, meaningless smile.

“I was just about to head that way.” You lied, having completely forgotten.

As you watched your boss walk off and some other CSRs go behind her, you tossed your keys back in your purse and pinched the bridge of your nose. You could already feel a migraine coming on and you were hoping the meeting wouldn’t make it worse.

When you walked into the conference room, you saw some familiar faces. Naturally there were the other customer service reps you worked with and occasionally talked to - mostly only if they happened to come to your little domain. Then there was your boss Natalie. Then there was Natalie’s boss, Chris who's the director of production for your specific location. There were the two people involved with HR at your location named Hayden and Penelope - Nellie for short. You had assumed the others in the building would have a separate meeting since that would be part of the higher ups, not that it really mattered to you either way.

You were more concerned with how fast this meeting would be over so you could have at least some sort of peace and quiet.

Then there was a face you didn’t recognize.

He was dressed in a green, velvety suit with a black turtleneck beneath it. A little too expensive looking for some place like this, at least in your opinion. This was kind of a small location compared to the other locations the company had. His hair was neatly combed and his beard looked freshly trimmed. He seemed very professional looking, even intimidating to an extent. You knew he had to be someone important if he looked the way he did and if you’ve never seen him before. How bad of a meeting was this going to be?

Whatever the case, you wished you had remembered some Tylenol or something for the worsening migraine.

You weren't sure if this meeting would be all that terrible, you noticed the counters in the back of the conference room had some food, nice of them to provide lunch. Maybe someone was trying to win over Customer Service and kind of ease into the meeting. Everyone else had gotten up to get their plates of food but you decided to go have a seat instead, not exactly in the mood for grub with the slight tension in the room with the new person who had to've been from corporate or something.

You took a seat as far away from everyone as possible and you were close to the end of the long table and your coworkers filled up the other seats so luckily you wouldn’t be sitting close to the newcomer with authority. As your coworkers finally took their seats, the meeting eventually began and you just looked over at your boss who was just a little too quiet for your own personal liking.

Then Hayden decided to speak up.

"Now that everyone's settled, we've got a special guest joining us through next week. The company has changed ownerships, so now we will be under new management. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the CEO of New Eden Metal Casting. It's an honor to introduce you to Mr. Ackles."

New Eden Metal Casting, huh?

Maybe not the greatest name in the world, but then again it's not like a lot of people really gave a damn about the name of a casting company - not unless you were dealing with the sort of casting that dealt with actors and auditions. But again this was just factory work. But does he really have to stay a week and disturb the peace?

"Please, whatever you do, don't call me Mr. Ackles. Jensen is just fine." The man said, and you weren't exactly expecting his voice to sound the way that it did. Deep, with a slight southern drawl, subtle but noticeable.

"So, just so I know where we stand, how's the Customer Service branch looking?" You heard Jensen ask as he looked over at Chris, who then began to reply and started spewing off some feedback from other Representatives for certain companies in different states and what they were saying about the previous managment. Some comments were positive, others not so much. But no company’s perfect after all.

You supposed this was simply one of those meetings where everyone was just supposed to fill Mr. Ackles in on everything so he knows where everything stands. You just didn't know why he would come all this way to this branch. As the CEO didn't he have people to do that for him? What was the point of him doing all the unnecessary footwork?

You had listened to about half of the conversation. If anything, the feedback from the reps and the customers was sort of an in between. Not a lot of people knew about this company, and the ones that did felt like production was behind and shipments didn't really get out as fast as they wanted it to. But how you saw it was that people failed to realize they are not the only order the company revolved around. Then again, comments and thoughts like that was a reason why you never wanted to be a leader of a company like this, never wanted to have that responsibility so you were definitely didn't envy Mr. Ackles, or Jensen as he apparently liked to be called.

As the meeting seemed to drag on and on, you took a sip of your water that had been passed out to everyone somewhere along the way and glanced at whoever was speaking to at least try to pay attention.

Soon enough the meeting was finally over and you figured that the staff would have some sort of mass email explaining more changes happening as the company changes owners. You just hoped they'd only be small changes that wouldn't really effect your work. Naturally you'd all have different emails, but you hoped they would change that part of the system during the weekends where everyone was off, but who was really to say what would happen.

While your coworkers started getting up to return their cubicles or resume their lunch break, you could feel a pair of eyes gazing at you. But you didn't really think much on it since you just wanted to run to a convenience store and get some meds in your system, maybe more coffee.

Jensen watched as all of the CSR workers walked out but he noticed most of the reps were dreadfully quiet the entire time. Almost like they were anxious about this meeting, but he supposed most meetings could give that kind of feeling when corporate was around.

Then there was you. You seemed uninterested throughout the meeting and he could tell you were faking paying attention throughout the meeting. Maybe something else had been on your mind the whole time. Distracted if that was the word for it.

He cleared his throat a little as he stood up out of his chair and straightened the jacket he wore that day. It was hotter than he anticipated since it was late summer. But he had come from another meeting and at least tried to look professional, though he may have over done it. Maybe throughout next week he'd dress down a little.

"You know, I never really envied a CSR's job. They always get the brunt of everything when a customer's upset with something wrong." Jensen commented and Natalie nodded.

"That's exactly where I started, it's an easy job up until you come across a disgruntled rep or customer on the phone. But we've got good workers here and they do their best to appeal to our frustrated customers as well. It's simply a part of the job." Natalie explained.

"I see. Where to next?" Jensen questioned as he looked over at Chris.

"I'll take you to our QA department. They check the quality of our parts before shipping and they inspect items that have been returned for whatever reason like the customer ordered too many or whatever the case may be." Chris explained and Jensen nodded.

While Jensen and Chris walked through the building, he caught a glimpse of you again, fumbling through your bag for what he assumed to be car keys. He glanced away from you and noticed the name plate on the front of your cubicle.

Y/N L/N.. He'd have to remember that.

Chris handed Jensen a pair of safety glasses and as they went to the shop floor, he saw all the large machines with workers sitting on shitty looking chairs that gave him a backache just to look at.

Each worker had a large metal box, a mold that had a tiny hole on one of the sides, and they'd put the mold under a press and fill it with wax, then they'd use some sort of air pump that was connected to the machine to blow air into the mold to release the wax piece. Once it was cooled, he saw workers cleaning off the excess to make them look a little neater before they'd place them on a rack before those pieces would end up going to some other station.

Earlier that day, Jensen had walked through another building that would dip the parts and put sand on them so they could withstand the casting process before it would get sent off to some other station Jensen hadn't seen yet. That area would be where the wax would be melted out of the castings and metal would be poured into those castings instead to create the desired part. Then of course there would be an area where casting would be knocked off and the metal pieces would be cleaned off again to look neater before they'd be finished via grinding or polishing before ultimately be prepared for shipping.

It sounds like a more complicated process than it really was but he was glad he was actually here to see for himself what the work was like rather than just sitting at some desk in corporate simply hearing about it. He had always been a man that learned better when he was hands-on and in the work environment itself.

"So how long have you been working for the previous owner, Chris?" Jensen asked as he continued observing his surroundings.

"Me? Oh I've been at this location only for four years. I started off here at the shop floor while I was under a temporary company but then I guess HR took a second look at my resume and thought I must've been fit for some kind of office work. Did a little work as CSR for about a year before I worked my way up and another HR person from corporate said I should be training to be part of Human Recourses here for this plant. It's been about two years now since I've been involved with Human Recourses." He explained, Jensen nodded along.

"How did you like working on the shop floor?"

"Honestly it wasn't too bad. Yeah it got hot in the summer especially when you're working around things that get hot as it is. But there aren't too many complaints when I was working. Things have changed in the past couple of years since I've actually been a part of the manufacturing process, though. If you'd like to, we can set up some meetings with our Senior Engineer and Senior Planners on the shop floor and they can give you more insight than I could."

"Yeah we can go ahead and make that for Monday morning since I'll be here next week anyway."

"We'll make sure that meeting's scheduled and I'll send an email out this afternoon once I get back into my office."

Jensen grinned to himself. At least from the outside looking in, he had a pretty good first impression of this place for the most part. It seemed like a good environment. Then again he knew all too well of workers feeling like they had to walk on eggshells around people from corporate. Then he knew there were other people that really didn't care who he was and they just wanted to get back to doing their jobs. He's been there at one point or another in his lifetime.

After about an hour had passed and Jensen had finished looking around the factory, he started making his way towards the office he would be using during the upcoming week. When he made it inside the offices he found himself passing your cubicle once more.

It seems you hadn’t returned yet, and honestly it looked to Jensen as though you didn’t work there at all. You didn’t have any pictures up on your cubicle’s walls. You didn’t have any decorations around, nothing that showed you customized your work place. The office supplies on your desk all came from work, so you hadn’t even picked your own office supplies to make it a little more home-y.

We’re you happy where you worked, or perhaps you hadn’t had the time to make things a little more your own?

“Um… Is there something I can help you with, Sir?” A voice asked from behind.

Jensen turned around and he saw you there, holding onto your work ID and your keys in one hand and a large iced coffee in another.

“Simply getting familiar with the place, Darlin.’ I won’t stand in the way of you and your work though.” Jensen insisted and stepped aside so you could get by.

After that, Jensen walked past you and went to his office that was actually relatively close to your cubicle.

As Jensen shut the door and walked to his desk he turned on the computer and monitor then proceeded to check his emails. He realized just how many emails were in his inbox, realizing the grind would never really stop but he got straight to work to accomplish as much as he could before he’d have to attend several more virtual meetings that afternoon.

Finally, the day was over and you were thrilled to finally head home.

You didn’t think you could leave your job any faster today as you hopped into your car and shut the door behind you and drove off, leaving work in your rear-view mirror for the next couple of days. You weren’t really sure what your plans would be. If anything, staying home would be relaxing, maybe you could read or watch one of your shows.

Once you made it to your apartment complex, you parked in your usual spot and walked up the stairs rather than the elevator inside to get to your floor. When you made it in front of your door, you fumbled around with your keys until you found the one you were looking for and unlocked the door before you finally opened it then walked inside the apartment.

You turned on the living room light and dropped your backpack on the couch and exhaled before kicking off your shoes.

“Another week over.” You breathed out, then you noticed a light turn on down the hallway in a room across from yours.

“Y/N?” Your roommate called out.

“Honey, I’m home!” You called back, hearing a little chuckle from down the hall followed by some footsteps.

Out from the opposite bedroom came Rhema, your twig-thin roommate with platinum blonde, short hair that was halfway pulled up into two space buns on the top of her head. She had the most beautiful blue eyes and some freckles, but other than that there was not a blemish or imperfection in sight of her.

She was close to perfect as you dreamed of being, but naturally you didn’t exactly have the time to self loathe. Nor did you really care to strain yourself with something you had a hard time controlling, so you just let it be and tried to be healthy in your own way.

“You look like Hell.” Rhema laughed and you smirked a little and rolled your eyes.

“I’m just hoping next week will be better but I highly doubt it. Long story.”

For some reason this seemed to peak your roommates interest as a brow arched while she was sitting on the couch putting on her shoes.

“So what happened today?” She asked.

“Well… I had a rep ask if we can change an address after an order’s been shipped, and instead of giving the obvious ‘no’ as an answer I had to do the CSR thing and jump through hoops to see if the shipping company can do something about it. I had to go to their website, no help there. Tried calling and got transferred several times but that didn’t work. Then when I finally looked through some past emails with another CSR about this kind of thing we both found out that I was right and we obviously couldn’t change the address so I had to circle back and tell the rep there wasn’t anything I could do and they’d need to either have it shipped back to us and process a replacement order so we can get it shipped to them that way or they’d have to get somebody at the previous site placed on the order to pick it up.” You ranted.

“All of that work for such a simple obvious answer?”

“Yeah. It’s been little stuff like that all week and the reps get ticked off at Customer Service for not getting things done their way. Once it’s out of the company's hands and it’s been shipped off it usually takes luck for any changes to be made after that.” You explained before you continued.

“And that’s not even all of it, not for this week anyway. It’s been a build up of little things like that and I can’t really help the process with it. On top of that, next week I have a feeling is going to be long for another reason entirely.”

“Oh God… what’s going on?” Rhema questioned with an empathetic tone.

“Turns out the company has a new owner. We had a meeting during my lunch hour and we all had to sit there and meet the new CEO of the company. Literally everyone in the meeting was tense and it felt like everybody couldn’t breathe. We just had to sit there and listen to general feedback about CSR and some other things that I can’t remember off the top of my head right now.”

“The CEO showed up? Doesn’t he have people to go to locations on behalf of the company or something instead?” Rhema asked.

“Yeah that’s what I thought too. But I didn’t bother asking anybody about it. All I know is I’m pretty sure everybody’s gonna have new emails next week and I hope that’s the only thing they change. If they start changing our systems and programs on the computers we’re gonna have a lot of problems I would think unless they get it all taken care of over the weekend.” You admitted and Rhema chuckled.

“Just when the week couldn’t kick you in the shins any harder, right?” She teased and you rolled your eyes a little in a joking manner before Rhema spoke again.

“Well, now that you’re home I’ll be heading out myself. Have to work tonight.”

“I thought you had Fridays off though? I’m surprised you aren’t going out with your friends.”

“Yeah well… a coworker’s sick so I have to cover her this weekend and she’ll come in to work Sunday. Bright side is she’ll be covering this coming Monday and Tuesday for me.” Rhema continued as she checked her backpack’s pockets and pulled out her medical ID that had a shitty little picture of her that did no justice and the letters CNA beneath her name, Rhema G. Sampson.

“You love those patients and you know it.” You reminded her and she let out a little chuckle.

“I do, but there are some days when they get on my nerves a little bit. But everyone has their bad days I suppose. They’ll be out before they know it and they’ll be thrilled to finally head home with their families.” Your roommate could be a little too optimistic sometimes, at least to you. It was almost endearing in a way. Not many people were like that.

“Well, hopefully it’ll be a good night and you’ll be able to sleep in tomorrow. I’ll try not to be too loud tomorrow morning.” You insisted and Rhema looked up from her backpack as she put her arms through the straps.

“You’re never loud. Honestly I don’t think I even hear you come out of your room on the weekends.” She said.

Mostly because you didn’t leave your room unless you needed something.

“So what are you going to do tonight while I’m gone? Going out tonight? Dancing? Bowling? Skating or anything?”

“Not really… after the week I had, I kind of want to just stay home.” You sighed.

“Seriously? After a stressful week, a night out is exactly what you need. Something to get you out of the house and break up the rhythm you’re in right now.”

“I’ll think about it.” Not gonna happen. For too many reasons.

“Come on, you have to go out and about and meet people. Otherwise how is your future relationship supposed to find you? They don’t exactly know where you live yet and they won’t if you don’t go and put yourself out there!” Rhema smiled at you.

“I’ll look online and see if there’s anything interesting tonight.” You lied. You were doubtful that your adventures into society would really change much about your relationship status.

“Good, Can’t wait to hear all about it if you do anything. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah… see you tomorrow.”

You watched as she walked out of the front door, leaving you to your own devices. When she left, you walked into the kitchen and pulled out a glass before opening up the fridge and grabbed some wine. You filled up the glass to however much you desired for the kind of week it’s been.

Once you had your glass, you went back into the living room and sat down on the couch before turning on the TV. You tried to think of something to watch but not a whole lot necessarily came to mind so you just put on the first thing you saw, which turned out to be Roseanne evidently. It wasn’t your favorite show, and nowadays you were surprised it was even on the air but it was at least something to entertain you for a little while. Definitely beat the news by a long shot.

While you watched the show, you started wondering what the upcoming week would look like for you. After all, with the company being in new ownership, you could only imagine how many changes were about to be made. You wondered if they’d make you wear uniforms or if they’d have you all wear pantsuits that made you look stuck up. Right now it was just business-casual which gave you at least a little more freedom.

You sipped some of your wine and you spent the next several hours watching the show before it switched to something else and then your phone let out a notification sound, alerting you that you had some sort of text message. When you looked down and lifted a brow when you saw your roommates name on the screen.

RS: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME JENSEN ACKLES IS THE NEW CEO AT YOUR COMPANY?!?!

Odd for her to take such interest in your work life, and have such enthusiasm about it too. Followed by her text message, Rhema sent over an article about the whole thing, clearly expecting you to read up on it.

Y/N: Ummm... yeah? Why? Is he some important guy?

RS: Y/N you have GOT to get out of the rock you live under sometime. How can you NOT know who he is? He was an actor for several years! He played in Days of Our Lives, Dark Angel and Smallville! Not really sure what he did after that, he kinda disappeared after leaving CW completely and from what I hear he hasn't done much acting after that.

Okay so the new boss of everything was some actor you didn't know. Sometimes people change career paths. Although you weren't sure why anyone would stop being an actor especially if they were just starting to get their name out there. You kind of wondered what changed and why he walked away from something like that.

Y/N: Huh... That's cool I guess. Never heard of those shows.

RS: Ugh we are soooo going to get you started on at least Smallville. I wouldn't be able to find him in Days of Our Lives on anything other than maybe little snippets on YouTube. And Dark Angel I may have to get the DVDs on Amazon.

Okay that sounded a little creepy - watching the new owner's old work? Wasn't that kind of odd?

Y/N: I mean okay? Smallville sounds the most interesting out of all of them I suppose. Now get back to work before you get in trouble!

RS: Buzzkill! I think the show's on Hulu so we can watch it tomorrow before I head off to night shift again.

You smiled and you rolled your eyes a little before you set your phone down on the coffee table, only to realize you still have yet to change into your night clothes, or at least something a little more comfortable.

With a soft sigh to yourself, you got up and walked into the hallway and made it to your bedroom.

Your bedroom was a little more decorated than your cubicle at work, but considering you and Rhema rented the place, you didn't exactly want to pay a fee for holes in the walls for whatever decorations you hung up in your room, not that you hung up anything. The walls were an ivory white and you had some black-out curtains at your window. Your bed had a simple white duvet and a throw blanket with some little design you thought was neat when you picked it up at the store one day. You had a plethora of pillows, though you only showed up with one. The other five came from Rhema when she started buying herself more pillows and asked if you wanted her old ones since she didn't feel like making the drive to Goodwill. So you accepted and you lived with a mountain of pillows, not that you could complain, they were comfortable after all.

As for some kind of personalization, you went to the Christmas section in Walmart one year and bought some blue Christmas lights and hung them up with some of those command strip hooks that wouldn't leave holes in the walls. You didn't use the lights often, but every once in a while you turned them on when you couldn't sleep anyways and you'd either read or watch some sort of crime show like Blue Bloods or CSI: New York.

You had a desk in your room that looked more like a little white table and you had a little filing cabinet next to it. On top of the desk you had a monitor, a monitor stand, and a laptop beneath the stand, in front of the stand and monitor you bought the cutest little retro-style keyboard that had the round keys and nearly sounded like a typewriter. You used this little station on the rare occasions you decided you would work from home, whether it was a sick day or maybe a day you had car issues or something like that.

You walked over to your dresser and pulled open one of the drawers before pulling out a pair of black pajama pants and a grey shirt that had a picture of Snoopy and Woodstock on it. It was an over-sized shirt and you felt comfortable in it. After that you walked back out into the living room and sat on the couch again, by that time the show you were listening to had switched to some commercial.

So, you picked up the remote and searched for something to watch, settling on House M. D. since you'd be listening to it more as background noise anyways before you looked at your phone again that was facing up on the coffee table where you left it. You had to admit, when you remembered Rhema sent you the article you were a little curious about what it said.

After all, it never hurt to read up on the new CEO of the company right? What harm could it do?

When you picked up the phone you clicked on the article Rhema sent and began to read. It basically gave a bio of who Mr. Ackles was, confirming what Rhema said about him being an actor in the late 90s and early 2000s before he left the industry. After his acting career ended he started working in manufacturing before he went to school for business and started a company, New Eden Metal Casting, using what wealth he had from his acting days that he didn't spend on school and apparently he had some insane amount of luck or something because more and more people started going to his company, and with more customers there was a demand for more workers, so apparently that was when Jensen started buying different companies, your previous employer included.

You scrolled down a little more and saw there was a little list of the different movies and shows this Jensen guy was a part of and you saw there were even pictures of the characters he played and even you had to admit, he was rather good looking back in the day. It made it shocking that he left in the first place when he could've continued being an actor instead. You were positive he would have had a lot of fans if he stuck with it - well more than what he had now considering Rhema was clearly and old fan of his.

You closed out the article and tossed the phone beside you on the couch before looking at the TV screen, reflecting on what you read about.

Next week out to be interesting, that much was certain, but you were unsure if you were prepared for the changes and getting to know the company's new CEO.

But you supposed there was really only one way to find out: wait for Monday to arrive.

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