#they just put that car back together again

[grison-in-space]

I remember this happening. I was fourteen and living in Georgia, and I was pretty sure I was queer and equally pretty sure that no one was ever going to leave me alone about it. There's a great song about the moment by Vienna Teng, I hope someone has linked it for OP by now.

The moments I remember are a decade later: having spent a year of graduate school tied to Texas admitting to myself that I was unhappy with the idea that my relationships were going to have to stay online only until I graduated with the PhD and could leave Texas again, because hell would freeze over before Texas did shit for us. Didn't matter I was living in Austin, one of the first cities in the nation to legalize the civil union shit back in the 90s; I was always going to be a second class citizen that way. Immigration wasn't an option.

And then, while I was working in the field in Costa Rica, Windsor came down. Suddenly immigration from Canada was an option. Suddenly we could talk about it. So we did. And we started scrambling to take advantage before it got taken away, because it probably would, but we had learned from y'all that even if it got taken away later, the having was important. Once you were legally in the country, deportation would have been harder, right?

I was one of the second wave of people with transnational relationships taking advantage of immigration in the post-DOMA world. (Defense of Marriage Act, children: ol' Bill Clinton signed that into law in 1996, so that we filthy queers couldn't ever touch the protections afforded by a federally recognized marriage.) It was a hell of a ride. We had to travel to Boston to get married because T thought an American certificate would carry more weight with immigration than a Canadian one. We couldn't actually afford to live together without both of us working, so we had to decide whether it was worth trying on the strength of one delighted October week long visit, get married and then put our petition through. We stayed on my friend @queenieofaces 's floor for the week of my spring break in 2014 and she married us to save money, which was not exactly something we had a lot of at the time or since. Then we both went home to our own countries for a year while we assembled the legal packets, petitioned the federal government, and started trying to navigate the immigration system.

Almost everyone I met outside our families was excited for me, sometimes to an extent that felt ridiculous. We were getting married because it was a shot at getting to live together, but we were both acutely aware of the possibility of failure, of just how much we were sacrificing for a shot at a relationship. The kinds of decade long affairs where marriage was just the legal affirmation of the households that already existed were inspirational, but not us: we were taking a risk and leaping for one another, but it was a leap, not an embrace quite yet. We talked earnestly about pre nuptial agreements before discovering, slightly shame-faced, that those are really designed for people with assets greater than a single subcompact hatchback and a laptop. computer.

(A decade later, and we've nevder had the stability to put through T's citizenship paperwork. That's changing now, slowly.)

My apartment had burned down that summer of 2013, and my car got totaled that winter, and I had to deal with a lot of insurance paperwork. Sometimes the paperwork required additional in person signatures for spouses and I would have to ask: "ah, uh: what law requires the paperwork?" See, I spent a year and change married for the purpose of federal law, single for the purposes of state law, and married again for purposes of municipal law. No one ever writes down what law they use to generate a policy, but no one wanted to mail documents to Toronto and back for signatures, either. So no one was quite sure what I should do on the paperwork.

It was chaos. T spent the entire entrance interview trying to convince the confused man at the consulate that it was actually fine to immigrate to Texas on a Massachusetts wedding license even though Texas would not recognize the marriage. We got approved and moved and I went to put T on my insurance. Then I discovered that Texas outright banned any of its state employees (|ike me!) from extending benefits to partners unless their marriage was recognized by the state of Texas. I had about a week to start panicking about that and then Obergefell hit the ground.

We just left work and went down to the Capitol and everyone was cheering and hugging each other and crying. All the bars and the liberal churches were open. We listened to speeches and stories and went dancing. It was beautiful.

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[amirasainz]

https://www.tumblr.com/amirasainz/768246287260942336/i-have-a-request-for-lando-norris-x-sisterreader

if you would could you write a part two?

like she really leaned on lando but also ollie and ollie was serious when he could he her bf …. and they get together

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Part 1

Big Brother to the Rescue Part 2

The following months were a whirlwind for Yn. Since that difficult weekend at the Grand Prix, Lando had made it his mission to bring her along to as many races as possible. At first, she’d been hesitant, worried about being a distraction. But Lando insisted.

“Come on, Yn,” he said one evening over dinner. “I drive better when I know you’re there. You’re like my good luck charm.”

Yn snorted. “You can’t use me as an excuse for a bad weekend, you know.”

“Never,” Lando said with a grin. “So, what do you say? Come to the next one?”

She agreed, and soon, race weekends became a regular part of her life again.

---

At first, Lando kept a close eye on her. He’d constantly check in—asking if she needed anything, cracking jokes to make her laugh, and making sure she wasn’t overthinking about her ex. But as the months passed, Yn’s laughter returned, and her smile became brighter.

Lando couldn’t help but notice the change. She seemed genuinely happy again, which filled him with relief. But something gnawed at him. Why?

---

It was during a particularly busy race weekend when Lando finally got his answer. The McLaren garage was bustling with engineers, mechanics, and team members preparing the cars for qualifying. Lando had just finished a debrief and decided to swing by the garage to check on Yn.

As he stepped inside, he froze.

There she was, standing off to the side with Ollie.

They were deep in conversation, their faces lit up with wide smiles. Yn’s laugh echoed softly over the hum of activity, and Lando narrowed his eyes. Why is he making her laugh like that?

Then he saw it.

Ollie leaned in, saying something that made Yn blush and look down shyly. And before she could tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, Ollie gently did it for her.

Lando’s jaw tightened.

Oh no, no, no.

He started striding toward them, fully prepared to put an end to whatever this was. But before he could take more than a few steps, a hand caught his arm.

It was Oscar.

“Where are you going?” Oscar asked, his tone calm but firm.

“To remind Ollie that he’s not allowed to flirt with my sister,” Lando said through gritted teeth.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Why?” Lando repeated incredulously. “Because she’s my little sister. That’s why.”

Oscar glanced over at Yn and Ollie. They were still talking, completely unaware of Lando’s growing frustration. Yn laughed again, her eyes sparkling in a way Lando hadn’t seen in months.

“Look at her,” Oscar said, nodding toward them.

“I am,” Lando snapped. “That’s the problem.”

“No, that’s the solution,” Oscar replied. “She’s smiling again, Lando. She’s happy.”

Lando hesitated.

Oscar continued, his voice softer now. “You’ve been worried about her for months, and now she’s back to being herself. Don’t ruin that because you’re being overprotective.”

Lando opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He looked at Yn again—really looked at her. She was radiant, her cheeks flushed from laughter as she teased Ollie about something.

And Ollie...

Lando hated to admit it, but Ollie looked at Yn with genuine affection. The way he leaned toward her, hanging on her every word, and the tenderness in his gaze—it wasn’t just flirting.

It was something more.

Oscar gave Lando a pat on the back. “Think about it,” he said before walking away.

Lando stood there for a moment, torn. His instincts screamed at him to protect Yn, to pull her away and remind Ollie who she was. But Oscar’s words lingered in his mind.

She’s smiling again.

With a heavy sigh, Lando took a step back. He turned and walked out of the garage, leaving Yn and Ollie to their moment.

---

Later that evening, Yn found Lando sitting outside the hospitality area, staring at the sky.

“Hey,” she said, sitting beside him.

“Hey,” he replied.

She nudged him with her elbow. “You okay?”

Lando glanced at her, noticing the contentment in her expression. “Yeah. Are you?”

Yn smiled softly. “I am.”

They sat in silence for a while before Yn spoke again. “Thanks for bringing me to all these races. I needed this.”

“You needed more than that,” Lando said, his voice teasing but warm.

Yn tilted her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Lando said quickly, shaking his head. “Just...I’m glad you’re happy.”

She studied him for a moment, then leaned her head on his shoulder. “I have the best brother in the world, you know that?”

“Obviously,” Lando replied with a grin.

They stayed like that for a while, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background. And though Lando still had his reservations about Ollie, he decided he could live with it.

As long as Yn was smiling, that was all that mattered.

[kairoot]

NO GOOD FOR ME ──── PJS.

ׂ ִ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬．𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾．． 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 — 𝐩. 𝖼𝖾𝗈！𝗃𝖺𝗒 𝗑 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝐠. 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡，𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑒𝑠，𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 — 𝐰. 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒，𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒，𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇，𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀．𝐰𝐜. 𝟤.𝟧𝗄

✉️ ──── jay fic from kairoot, we cheered !!

HOME.

The building was bustling with its usual noise, the sound of keyboards clicking and the employee’s chatter. The familiar scent of coffee and freshly printed paper hung in the air as everyone occupied themselves with answering old emails or discussing the company’s next design.

You, on the other hand, had just walked in the building, already wanting to head straight back to your car and drive home. Everyday was a struggle, coming into the job that your now ex-boyfriend had given you. Now, you worked for him but you weren’t together.

It drove you insane. You were so used to driving to work with him, your favorite song playing on the radio while his hand was placed on your thigh as he sang to you. Or picking up a quick meal from a nearby cafe as you both talked about your future. It was sickening to think that you couldn’t do that anymore and things were only strictly business between the two of you.

It hurt to have to converse with him, even if it was just a quick greeting or him telling you about the plans for the company’s next fashion show.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to hold a conversation with him. Or even look at him. Any time he tried speaking to you, you uttered a one worded response before quickly walking away to resume your duties.

You were still angry with him. He ended it all. He put an end to what you thought was your happiness.

You sighed, walking over to your desk as you placed your belongings down on the smooth surface. You hadn’t noticed the presence behind you, too busy with powering up your office computer and pulling out your sketchpad full of possible designs.

“Y/n,” a deep, but familiar voice spoke from behind you. You froze, closing your eyes before forcing out a response.

“Jay.”

He walked toward your desk, standing in front of it so he could look at you. He cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Did you, uh, finish the fall collection designs? Ms. Lee and I are planning a meeting for the show, so we’ll need final designs by Monday.”

“I have most of them.” You replied flatly, sitting in your chair and opening up your files. Jay hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he should continue speaking or not.

“Well, just.. email me when you’ve finished.” He finally said, before walking away. He glanced back at you for a second, before walking back in the direction of his office.

You let out a relieved sigh, not realizing you were holding your breath. The smell of his cologne was still lingering around your workspace which only frustrated you more.

Peering into the far corner of the building, you could see Jay laughing with his executive assistant, Ms. Lee. You couldn’t stand her. Even when the two of you were together.

But now it was worse, considering that was no longer the case. Now that you and Jay were separated, she took matters into her own hands. Literally.

She’d always squeeze his hand or place her hand on his arm, letting it glide up and down in a sweet, gentle manner. It made you fume with anger, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Knocking you out of your trance, your coworker and best friend, Chaewon came knocking on your desktop.

“So,” she began, following your gaze over to where Jay and his assistant stood.

“That’s gross, am I right?”

You sighed, turning back to your computer, “Not today, Chae, please.”

“What? I’m just saying—once you two aren’t together anymore, little Ms. Perfect has to swoop in and finally make a move.” She said, rolling her eyes.

You don’t respond, only shaking your head.

“Speaking of which, how are you?”

You shrug. “It’s been almost two months, Chae. I’m fine.”

“A month and two weeks, to be exact. And no, you’re not, Y/n. I see the way you look at him.

She sat on the desk, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You can talk to me. You know that.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, only resting your head in your hand, rubbing your temple.

“After work.. but right now, I really need to get this stuff done.”

She smiled down at you before hopping off of the desk to walk back to her own.

“Right, well, I’ll see you later, Mrs. Par—“ she cut herself off, a wide grin plastered on her face.

You turned to look at her, jaw dropped. “Chaewon!”

“Oops! I mean, Ms. L/n.”

The day had finally ended, the clock reading 5:36 pm. You stood up from your chair, stretching a bit before starting to gather your things and head home.

You turned off your computer, letting the machine rest before you came back the next day.

As you walked out the door, the cool autumn air brushed against your face, making you shiver a bit. You walked to your car, the clicking of your low heels echoing as you walked.

Before you could open your car door, you could see Jay standing by his car, taking a phone call. You stood there, just looking at him for a moment. Not to eavesdrop or anything, but just to admire and think about him.

He paced slowly as he conversed with the person on the other line. You hadn’t realized how long you were staring until he looked up at you, catching your gaze.

You looked down to break the tense eye contact, fidgeting with the things in your hands so you could find your keys. You clicked the unlock button on the remote, quickly opening your door and throwing your bag to the side.

You placed the key in the ignition, turning it to start your engine.

Today was a bit harder for you to get out of bed, but you did it. The urge to quit your job was getting stronger and stronger as the weeks passed.

As you walked into your workplace, Chaewon came walking up to you in a hurry, ready to talk as if you both didn’t have several different conversations the night before.

“Y/n, did you really buy a new dress just for this meeting..?” She asked, looking at you up and down.

The dress was tight-fitted, the fabric hugging your curves and accentuating your hips just right. It was a beige, neutral colored material with a boat neckline. One of those corporate dresses like in the movies. The ones that Jay likes.

“Um, well,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from letting out a snicker.

“I needed new clothes, anyway.”

Chaewon shook her head in disbelief, a small smile forming on your face.

You both approached the conference room with all of the employees from the company following you in. Jay stood in the doorway, greeting everyone with a smile and ‘good morning’.

When he saw you, his expression flickered with surprise. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, scanning you as he took in every detail.

“Y/n,” he started, letting out a breath. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Mr. Park.” You walked past him without keeping contact once again. You took a seat at the large table while Chaewon placed her things down next to yours, sitting by you.

She nudged you slightly, staring at you in shock.

“What the hell was that?”

“I said ‘good morning’.” You replied calmly, taking out your notepad and a pen.

“No, no, no,” she shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“He practically drooled over you, Y/n!”

You shrugged, opening your mouth to speak but was cut off by another voice.

“Okay, good morning, everyone!” You looked over to see the woman you despised the most. Her hands were clasped together as she greeted everyone with a friendly grin.

To your right, you could hear Chaewon scoffing quietly, making you chuckle.

“As you all know, Mr. Park and I have called everyone here to discuss our big event.” She said, grabbing her laptop so she could pull up the presentation.

Jay walked in just as she was explaining the concept of the meeting, his eyes wandering over to you again. You tried to ignore the feeling of his gaze on you as you listened to whatever his assistant was saying.

“All of our designs for this season’s show were created by the lovely, Ms. L/n.” She smiled, turning to you. Your employees clapped for you, some smiling in your direction. You smiled back at them, thanking them silently.

Ms. Lee clicked the next slide, which had pictures of some of the ideas you had.

“These are… interesting. Not quite what we were expecting, but you know, creativity is subjective.” The woman stated, sarcastically.

Your eyebrows furrowed at her comment, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her head turned toward you as she flashed another one of her signature fake smiles.

“Well, I just mean that these looks are not as… wearable as we’d like.”

“‘We’ or you?” You asked, tilting your head slightly. Chaewon was laughing quietly next to you, covering it up with a cough, but you were serious.

The room was filled with an awkward silence as Ms. Lee shifted, contemplating on whether she wanted to respond to you. You continued to look her in the eye until she backed down, pushing her pettiness to the side.

“I think Ms. Lee meant that these designs are like nothing we’ve ever seen before, Y/n. They’re extraordinary.” Jay spoke up, trying to clear the tension between you and his assistant.

“No. No, I don’t think that’s what she meant, but we can go on with this meeting.” You replied, clearly irritated at the both of them.

His assistant continued the discussion without making any more snarky remarks on your designs. You sat there silently, seething with rage. She was clearly doing that to embarrass you and you didn’t need Jay’s sympathy to deal with it.

The next evening, Chaewon dragged you to Jay’s office get-together, to which you rejected her offer multiple times but she insisted. You really didn’t feel like interacting with him or anyone that was close to him. It reminded you too much of the past.

The party was your average office gathering, champagne on one table and small snacks on the other. People were scattered around the building, socializing and dancing while you sat on the side, watching and sipping your drink slowly.

“Y/n, come on. You can’t sit here all night.” Chaewon whined to you for the third time, begging you to get out of your seat. You ignored her, downing the whole glass of champagne in your hand.

She sighed, standing up to go straight to the dance area.

“I’m gonna go dance with Jay’s new employee, Sunghoon. You sure you don’t wanna join me?”

You nodded, “I’m positive.”

She gave you a sad smile before heading to her new dance partner. You inhaled deeply, standing up and heading over to the drink station for the second time that night.

There were people still hanging out by the drinks so you had to push your way through to the beverages. You poured some of the liquid into your glass, sipping some before pouring more.

You turned around to go back to your seat but your drink was knocked into you, the beverage already seeping through the fabric of your dress.

You looked up to see the familiar face of Ms. Lee, giving you a look of faux sympathy.

“Oh, gosh, how clumsy of me.. Maybe you can fix the design of this dress, too?

You looked at her with pure disgust as you scoffed at her words. Your hand tightened around your glass before you flung the remains of your drink in her face, watching as her makeup began to run instantly.

She gasped loudly, wiping the liquid off of her face before opening her eyes to glare at you. Before she could get anything else out of her mouth, you were pulled away by your wrist.

“Jay?! What the hell?” You yelled as you turned to see who was now pulling you into the dimly lit printer room.

“No, I should be saying that to you! What the hell was that out there?”

“I don’t know, maybe get your assistant and new partner in control. She started it!” You shouted at him.

He ran his hands down his face as he stood in front of you.

“Y/n, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know. She’s had it out for me since we were dating, Jay. And now that we aren’t, she can finally get what she wants.”

He shook his head at you, chuckling, “You’re unbelievable.”

You scoffed, “Me? You know now it’s true! I know you see it!”

“Gosh, would you stop it already?! This is why I ended things with you, Y/n— you’re so quick to jump to conclusions!” He exclaimed, his words laced with venom that stung more than you expected.

Your eyes began to water as you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. You looked at him before taking a step back, blinking away the tears before they started to fall.

Jay didn’t say anything else but you could tell he almost regretted the words that came out of his mouth.

“You always do this,” you sniffled, turning your head so that he wouldn’t see how much it hurt.

“You always blame me when all I want to do is make things right. You know that I—“

You stopped mid-sentence as he stepped closer, his hands gripping your arms to hold your attention.

“What? What do I know, Y/n?” He challenged, his voice low but intense.

“You know that I only wanted good for us both. And that I care about you.”

Before you could get a response from him, Jay pulled you in for a kiss, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that nearly broke you. For a moment, you let yourself sink into it, clutching his white button up as if holding on could fix everything.

But then he pulled away abruptly, breaking the moment as his hands fell from your arms. He stepped back, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, his voice firm but tinged with sadness. “We’re not doing this, Y/n. It’s not gonna fix anything between us.”

“You kissed me,” you whispered, blinking back the tears once more.

"I know," he admitted, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. "And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

His apology felt like a dagger to your chest. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the lump in your throat silenced you.

"You need to move on," Jay added, his voice soft but resolute. "We both do.”

“But Jay, I—“

“Don’t make this any more difficult than what it already is.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked past you, leaving you standing alone in the dimly lit room, his words echoing in your mind like a cruel reminder of what you could never have again.

• • •

﹙ 🔖 ﹚ ──── @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @elysianiki @mmygnolia @nshmuras @who-tf-soddhi — send an ask to join

﹙ 🌐 ﹚ ──── @k-films @en-diaries

[johanna-swann]

Okay, but how about an angsty thanksgiving intervention? They have a friendsgiving thingy a couple of days before or after the actual holiday at the Madney house. I imagine Maddie, Chim, Hen, Karen, all their kids and Buck are there. Eddie is in El Paso for the holiday and Bobby and Athena are busy with something else, idk. (I feel like having Bobby there would prevent a lot of the drama, so for reasons he can't be there.)

But Chimney (with Maddie's approval) also invites Tommy - except Tommy doesn't know this is a family event [tm], he thinks Chim just invited him over to hang out. Drink some beer, watch a movie maybe.

And Tommy thinks: "I should probably go, Howie's been my friend for almost 20 years now. I can handle hanging out with an old friend for a night, even if he happens to me ex's brother-in-law. It'll be good for me." But he's completely and utterly unprepared and not ready to run into Buck again so soon, much less in a context that oh so loudly screams "family" and thus represents everything Tommy always wanted and never had. It's an ocean's worth of salt in a fresh wound.

Buck on the other hand doesn't know Tommy's coming to the friendsgiving either. He just prepared a shit ton of food and figured spending time with his family will be a good distraction from the break-up. He hasn't hung out with Hen and Karen in a while and he's looking forward to having all the kids around. Who can mope about a stupid ex when the noise is drowned out by giggling and laughing children running around?

Chim and Maddie hoped that their plan might help Buck and Tommy to at least find some closure or maybe even get them talking to each other again. Either way, at least everyone gets a good, home-cooked meal and some quality time with friends out of it, right?

But then they're suddenly and unexpectedly confronted with each other when neither of them is ready. Buck has barely begun to even process the break-up. Let's be honest, the baking thing has been more of a distraction from thinking about Tommy than a coping mechanism to work through his feelings. He's still a little bit in denial and Tommy crashing his safe-space catapults him into the anger/depression stage.

Tommy could've dealt with a movie night with Chim, could've even coped with having Maddie and Jee-Yun there, but an entire ass family holiday? Avoiding eye contact, forcing smiles, faking normal for hours while pretending he isn't still putting the pieces of his own heart back together? Knowing he will go home alone with the fresh reminder of what he will never truly have and get to keep?

So Tommy awkwardly excuses himself and maybe Buck throws in a bitter: "Yeah, leave. You're good at that." And maybe in an attempt to de-escalate - or at least move the escalation out of earshot from the kids - Maddie suggests they talk outside. But outside they just stare at each other, not knowing what to say. Tommy apologises again, saying he'll just leave and let Buck enjoy the evening.

"It's fine", Buck says: "I think I'll leave too, actually." And Tommy lays into him about how he shouldn't spend the holiday alone when he can just go back inside and be with his family, he shouldn't be sitting in his empty loft when he could play with Jee-Yun or catch up with Karen instead.

Buck finally gets angry about what happened, but he hasn't put his thoughts in order yet, can't put into words what he feels yet. He also feels ambushed and a wee bit manipulated. So he just bites out: "Oh right, I forgot. You're the expert on what I should and shouldn't be doing. God forbid I decide for myself what I want", walks over to his car and drives off.

Tommy sits in his car for a little bit, then he goes home too. Maddie and Chimney feel bad. After they tried to encourage Buck to move on a bit too soon, they overcorrected in the opposite direction and it blew up in their faces. Maddie tries to call Buck, but he's turned off his phone. Chimney tries to reach out to Tommy, but his text sits there delivered, unread and stays unanswered.

Tommy ends up sitting on his couch, crying and staring at the tv which he hasn't even bothered to turn on and Buck spends hours pacing in his kitchen, alternating between wanting to yell at Tommy for breaking up with him in the first place and deleting his number so he'll never even be tempted to talk to him again.

So they all end up spending the friendsgiving evening in varying degrees of misery.

(Maddie, Chimney and Buck patch things up almost immediately. They bring him breakfast the next morning and apologise for springing this on him without warning. He accepts the apology, he knows they meant well and it was actually a nice thing that they tried to include Tommy despite the break-up. He wants Tommy to be happy. Really, he wants Tommy to find whatever he thinks Buck couldn't give him. He hopes Tommy one day finds a man who won't make him run the opposite direction. He wants Tommy to feel good about himself and to have a life full of friends and family and people who he can call his. Eventually. Right now, he admits, he selfishly wants Tommy to feel a bit shit. He hopes Tommy is hurting at least as much as he is. He hopes Tommy's favourite basketball team loses every game of the season. He hopes one of Tommy's coworkers says the q-word and jinxes them for a full 24 hours shift. Buck doesn't know when he started crying, but Chim and Maddie are there for him and they spend most of the day together.)

(Chimney also apologises to Tommy. They don't really talk about it, Tommy doesn't want to. He'd rather listen to Howie gush about becoming a dad again, talk about the next pick-up game and ignore the elephant in the room. It's easy to slip back into the casual friendship, the conversations that are full of movie dialogues and references, the bragging and comparing of batshit calls they've worked in the past 20 years. They don't hang out at Howie's house, they either go to Tommy's or meet at a bar. But Tommy is relieved he at least got to keep this.)

(Buck and Tommy run into each other again a few weeks later. It's the second christmas day, Buck is invited to hang out with the Diaz family. Christopher has agreed to come to LA for a week - a trial run of sorts to help him and Eddie figure out what comes next - and they're all going to spend the day at tía Pepa's. Buck is picking up some groceries on his way there and who does he meet in the canned foods isle? Buck doesn't really know what comes over him, but he suggest they should hang out together while Chris and Eddie are here. All four of them. Eddie was Tommy's friend before they ever went out after all and so was Chimney. Plus, they're all firefighters. They're bound to run into each other again sooner or later, it'd be childish to be hung up on the past. Tommy says yes.)

(They start talking to each other more after that. Not very often, not consistently, not about their break-up. But they talk. It starts with texting and hanging out in group settings. Then the phone calls start. At first just small ones, "it'll be quicker than texting" calls, "I'm ellbows deep in foccacia dough" and "broke my hand on call yesterday, so quite literally can't text" calls. Then they start hanging out one on one again. Neither of them has ever stayed friends with an ex before. Is it supposed to feel like this? Is Tommy's laugh still supposed to make Buck's heart skip a beat like this? Is Evan's soft smile still supposed to melt Tommy's insides like this?)

(They get back together in March. It's not preceded by a big and dramatic event. There's no "life or death" situation, no traumatic incident to make them realise that "tomorrow isn't promised, no awkward jealousy over a new partner. It's just another movie nigh. Buck falls asleep with his head on Tommy's shoulder and Tommy doesn't even think about it before running his fingers through Evan's curls. Buck wakes up as the credits start rolling. He shifts a little, looks up at Tommy, but he doesn't move away. The kiss is soft and chaste and they leave it at that one kiss. Buck doesn't move to the bedroom with Tommy, but he does crash on Tommy's couch. They talk in the morning. They talk about being all in but taking it slow anyway, they talk about crushes and admiration and love and the difference between all three, they finally talk about the break-up. They keep it a secret for a little while. Call it precaution or payback for Chimney's attempt at meddling.)

(They make it three weeks. Then Tommy surprises Buck at his loft and they forget that not only was Eddie supposed to come over, Eddie also has his own key. They never live it down for as long as they're alive.)

[waynes-multiverse]

I was soooooooo excited for this! *breathes in sharply* Okay let's get started 🍿😎👏

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

Right... 😆

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠

And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)

And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said. “Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.” He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol

How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣

And he slapped you right on the ass.

Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥

But his hands were gentle for you.

This line just about killed me... 🫠🫠🫠

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

I appreciate that kind of humor 😂😂

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I absolutely can see him saying that 💯😂

He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car.

Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂

And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞

I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[planetpedri]

You can write one about Pau Cubarsi where he teaches her how to play soccer, a really cute moment pleasee

Only friend — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pau knew you hadn’t been doing good, so he came over to get you out of your room by forcing you to play footy!

Word count: 920+

Disclaimer/s: mostly fluff + me projecting gulps so lighttt angst

A/N: hi guys yes this is me projecting my problems into writing thats my bad honestly I HATE WINTER!!

“Get out of bed.” Pau insisted, standing in your doorway with pursed lips. The second you heard the door open, you’d already known it was him since your parents knew better than to open it without knocking.

Shaking your head, you pull the blanket over your head. “Pau, go away. I’m tired.”

“Tired?” Pau sighs, slipping off his shoes and entering your room. “It’s two in the afternoon. It’s time to get up. I have plans for us.”

The bed dips under his weight and you finally turn around to face him. Dark circles ring around your eyes as you look up at him. “I went to bed at five.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Wha—“ You don’t get to finish your sentence because Pau had looped his arms under you and pulled you out of bed. “Pau!”

“Get dressed. We’re going to the park.” He says sternly, setting you down and offering a small smile. “Quit pouting.” He chuckles, placing a small kiss on your lips.

Trudging towards your closet, you change into ‘park safe clothes’ while Pau waited downstairs with your parents. Once you slipped on shoes and did your hair, you stomped down the steps.

Pau sat up on the couch, watching as you rounded the corner with a grumpy expression. He grinning, standing and saying his goodbye’s to your parents.

Your parents adored Pau. Like.. adored, adored. So did you, of course, but to them Pau could never do any wrong. To you, he could. Making you get out of bed to do God knows what, was wrong.

“What are we even doing today?” You quirk an eyebrow, climbing into the passenger seat.

Pau’s mouth forms a devious, shit-eating grin. “I’m teaching you how to play football.”

Instantly you reached for the door handle. Pau, having much faster reflexes, locks the car doors. “Nuh-uh!” He laughs, “you can have aux, just come with me, okay?”

Chewing on your cheek, you let out a huff. “Fine. Only because I hate your music.” He nearly tried to defend himself, but stopped when he saw the look you were giving him.

The park was quiet today, which was lucky for you. Only a few families milled about and they were at the play sets. Pau reached for his ball in the back seat before getting out. When you begrudgingly got out, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“This will be fun!” He insists, planting a kiss to your forehead. No matter how annoyed you may be, it was so hard to stay in that state when your boyfriend was just so.. perfect.

“Fun is going to the mall. Fun is not spraining your ankle because your boyfriend forgets he’s playing with his girlfriend and not his teammate.” You point at him accusatorially, which sends waves of guilt through him.

“I apologized for that a million times!” He groans, letting his hand drop to your hip. “I won’t do that again. Promise.”

Rolling your eyes with a small smirk, you chuckle. “Sure. Okay, put the damn ball down.”

Pau grins, setting the ball on the fresh grass. “What should we start with today?” He thinks out loud to himself, which you watch with your hands on your hips.

“Well shit, I don’t know.” You mumble, “oh! Oh! Remember last time when I did that one thing?”

The teens eyebrows pull together before it dawns on him. He nudges the ball, playing with it as he thinks. “Okay, yeah. You’re talking about when you kicked it behind you?”

Shaking your head vigorously, you use your hands while you explain, “nooo. Dribbling! I think thats what it’s called?”

Pau looks up from the ball to you, “yeah, that’s what it’s called. Okay, jog beside me and watch the ball, i’ll explain as I do it.”

Nodding, you and Pau set off in a slow jog, as you do so, he explains his tactics and you watch him move. “It’s easier to do when you’re in a full on run, but you should start off jogging, it’ll make it easier to learn.” He stops the ball, kicking it up into his hands before he sets it in yours. “You got this.”

Swirling the ball in your hands, you chew on your bottom lip. “Right. Super simple.” You mumble, psyching yourself up. “Alright, let’s go.”

Letting the ball drop to the grass, you do just as Pau described. You nearly stumble, but catch yourself and continue. Every so often, Pau gives you a new pointer, and you adjust to it.

Throughout your time learning how to play, Pau gives you compliments and praises;

“Yes! Yes just like that, you’re a natural!”

“See, you know what you’re doing!”

“Might as well start calling you Messi.” — That was teasing, which you’d flicked him for, eliciting a loud giggle from the boy.

After nearly an hour of non-stop playing, you slump onto the bar of the net, catching your breath. “How do you do this nearly every fucking day?” You gasp out, taking a large gulp of water to alleviate the pain.

Pau sits across from you, leaning back on his palms. “Nena [baby], i’ve been doing this since i could walk.” He says with an amused expression.

Your eyes roll, “true.” Taking another large gulp and jump to your feet. “Let’s go again!”

Pau looks up at you incredulously. “Again? Not even an hour ago you were complaining about me even bringing you here.”

“Yeah, well. Times change.” You grin, reaching for the ball.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pau posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @joaoflms @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @unx100to @n0vazsq

[undercoverdonderwolk]

can we also talk about how max has said his favorite number is 3 and also that he was gonna pick it as his race number (said that was the number he always chose for karting if he got a choice) but went with 33 instead bc daniel already had 3…….soulmatism

you’re right— you couldn’t even WRITE this bc it’d be like this is so cheesy :/

imagine the fic like “well they meet when they’re young and they immediately hit it off! one of them even sends the other a cute little message when he gets his super license, even though they’re not even really friends yet. and then they become teammates and they’re sooo close like to the point where other drivers are like i’ve never seen teammates so close before… but they’re fiiiercely competitive they even get in a few fights but don’t worry they always apologize to each other. but then one of the guys leaves!!! even though the other guy tries to stop him and get him to stay!!!! and they’re both kinda depressed about it to the point where one of them obsessively listens to the song barely friends by drama which that same guy references as the perfect breakup song like five years later and the other guy spends all his time miserable getting into the top 10 best fifa players in the world. but they remain friends like they get even closer even though there’s not really any point in being friends. they fly everywhere together and hang out on a boat together and they post each other on instagram and when life gets horrrrible for one of the guys at some point he goes to say that he’s sooo happy that if it can’t be him at least it can still be the other guy. but then the guy’s old team takes him back!!!! and they’re SO happy like they are giddyyyy. it was actually the other guy who first announced it that’s how excited he was. at some point one of the guys even writes down the other guy’s old number (the one he had when they were teammates) in the dust on a car which just so happens to be double his own number…. and they almost become teammates again and they’re sooo happy that they put the two of them on insta with a fred again song (i been gone too long baby don’t leave) but it doesn’t happen… but they’re attached at the hip down to the verrrry last moment when the two of them spend an entire evening singing each other’s praises and even though one of the guys is retired know they still hang out!!!!!!”

i’d be like ok. i’ll suspend my disbelief 716 million times for ur corny ass story eye GUESS!!!

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Goodbye, Peter

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: major fluff

Summary: Football season is upon your college, and everyone gets into the spirit. The football players like to go from dorm room to dorm room getting people excited for the games. Everything changes when Peter knocks on your door.

Square Filled: natasha romanoff for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your older sister pulls the car next to your dorm building with a sigh. It’s the first day of your sophomore year of college. Since you got to keep the same dorm as last year, all of your things are still inside your room. This time, you only have a few boxes that Natasha helps you with. You walk with her to her car and grab the last few pillows. She looks like she is going to cry, and you have to hold back your eye roll.

At the same time last year, Natasha behaved the exact same way.

“Would you stop? I’ll be fine.”

“College is a big deal. I wish I went.”

“You still can, you know. Age is just a number when it comes to college.”

“It’s too late for me,” she chuckles. “Listen, I’m a phone call away, okay? I’ll steal one of Tony’s suits if I have to. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I know,” you smile. “Now go save the world and let me try and save my education.”

“Okay.” She pulls you in for a hug. “Be good and don’t do drugs.”

“I won’t,” you laugh. Natasha gets back into the car and drives off soon after. You walk back into your dorm to see your new roommate already on her bed. She wasn’t there when you moved your stuff in. “Oh, hi. My name is Y/N.”

“Sarah. Let me see your school schedule.” You pass it to her. “Ooh! We have two classes together! Awesome!” Her face falls “Oh, you have Mr. Rogers for English 101. Good luck with him. I had him last year so I’ll give you a few tips on how to pass his class.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

In spite of her persistence, you two hit it off. Classes are easy enough (thanks to Sarah’s tips for Mr. Rogers), and the students put the spirit in school spirit. A few weeks after the first day, football season takes off. This school is known for going all out for their teams, and football is no exception. Besides the classrooms, every room has at least some form of football merch to support the team for their away games.

Cheerleaders scour the campus in droves to cheer for their team and spread awareness for the games coming up. They’ve posted the schedules in every dorm and on every student’s dorm door. One of the things that the football players love to do to get people excited for the games is to go around to every dorm, girls and boys combined, knock on their doors, throw a football right when the person opens the door, catch it before the ball can hit them, say something cheesy about the games, and moves onto the next.

They did it last year but you were back home with Natasha so you weren't able to participate in it.

Peter wasn’t sure about the whole college thing since he had to take his GED in order to get in. He would have graduated had Dr. Strange not made everyone on Earth forget Peter Parker existed. He wanted to go back to his friends but they were put in danger because of him, and he couldn’t put them through that again. It was time for him to move on, and college seemed like the perfect place to do so.

He can start fresh and be anyone he wants. He can do anything he wants. Before, he wasn’t able to play sports because then people would know he was Spiderman, but now that’s not a problem. He came into college with those abilities so no one was wiser about it. He joined the football team as soon as he could and has been on the team since freshman year.

Peter and his teammates move on to the next room after pranking the last girl. He knocks on the door and uses his spidey senses to know when someone comes to the door. He nods to his friend who throws the football just as the door opens. The girl flinches back but Peter catches the ball with a huge smile on his face.

“Don’t forget to cheer for us at this week’s upcoming game! I promise, no balls will be thrown at your face.”

The girl laughs and looks at her roommate who is filming it all. Peter and his team do this for the next few doors, earning smiles and laughs. He gets to the last one at the end of the hallway and knocks on it. Peter nods to his friend to throw the ball, which he does. The door opens and Peter catches the ball before it can hit you. He has a cheesy saying on the tip of his tongue, but when he looks into your eyes, it’s like everything goes blank inside his mind.

Your eyes are so… mesmerizing. Your lips are perfectly pink. You have a sort of innocent look to you, and Peter can’t look away from you. You stand there with a slight blush and a shy smile on your face.

“Can I help you?” you finally ask.

Peter stumbles over his words as he tries to think of a response.

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Dude, what are you doing?” one of his teammates asks.

You quietly chuckle and close the door behind you but not before glancing at Peter once more. Peter shakes his head and leaves with his team but only gets as far as the stairs. He quickly turns, jogs back to your dorm, and knocks on the door. You open it seconds later with another shy smile on your face.

“My name is Peter.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“What’s your name?”

“Goodbye, Peter,” you grin and close the door on him.

Peter can’t get you out of his mind from then out. He even has trouble sleeping because all he can think about is the bright color of your eyes and the way your hair flows down your shoulder blades. He didn't think he’d ever feel this way about someone after MJ yet here he is, thinking of you like how he thought about her.

The next day, Peter heads to your dorm before his class. This time, he doesn’t have his friends with him. He knocks on the door before he can talk himself out of it, and you open it seconds later.

“What are you doing here? This is the girls’ dorm.”

“I know, but I can’t get you out of my head as cliche as that sounds. I have to know your name.”

You smile. “My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N.” Peter breaks out in a cheesy grin and just stares at you. You blush under his gaze and start to close the door. “Goodbye, Peter.”

Like Peter is going to stay away from you. The next day rolls around, and you look at your watch for the fifth time.

“What are you waiting for? You don’t have class today,” Sarah says from her bed.

“No, I don’t.” You smile. “It’s almost three.”

“What’s at three?”

Right at three, someone knocks on the door. You smirk at Sarah and walk to the door before opening it. Standing there is Peter. 

“Hi, Peter.”

“I want, no… I need to ask you out on a date. Will you agree to going out with me? On a date.”

“No,” you chuckle.

Peter’s expression changes but it doesn’t fall in disappointment. “Why not?”

“You know, some girls might think it’s stalking with the way you keep showing up here uninvited.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay.” Peter turns to leave but doesn’t. “Ask me not to come back tomorrow, and I won’t come back and I won’t ask you on a date.”

You can’t do that. You find him charming and cute. There’s something about him that’s pulling you to him, but the last thing you’re going to do is make it easy for him.

“Goodbye, Peter.” You close the door on him and turn to Sarah who has a wide smile on her face. “What are you smiling about?”

“It’s like a Wattpad story come to life. You should have said yes.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow.”

And tomorrow he came. He came the day after that, and the day after that, and the following week after that. He comes at the same time every single day regardless of what he has going on in his life to ask you on a date which you always tell him no. It’s a game you two love playing. You’ll say eventually. You just want to see how hard he’ll work for it.

The first weekend that Peter’s team has an away game comes, and you’re upset you couldn’t go because of exams. You have two this next week so you’re taking this weekend to study for both of them. Sarah is over at her boyfriend’s dorm so you have the place to yourselves. You look at the time and groan from how late it is. 

Someone knocks on the door, and you look at it in confusion. Who could be here at eleven at night? You grab your cardigan and wrap it around yourself before going over to the door. One look through the peephole has you confused.

‘“Peter?” you say as you open the door. “What are you doing here?” Peter pants and holds onto the wall to catch his breath. “You just had a game. You’re supposed to be at ASU.”

“I had to see you,” he says. “We’ve been away all week and I hated not being able to see you.”

“Peter, it’s nearly midnight.”

He rests his arm on your doorframe and leans in. “Tell me not to come back tomorrow and ask you on a date.”

You have to hide your smile when you say this. “Don’t come back, Peter.”

This time, his face falls. “What?”

“I won’t be here.”

He tries not to look disappointed. “Oh, okay,” he nods.

“Yeah, I have this date with this guy who is charming and cute and looks like he ran hundreds of miles just to ask me on a date.”

Suddenly, Peter’s frown turns upside down. “Wait, you’re talking about me?”

“You’re so cute. Yes, I’m talking about you.”

“You’ll go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” you giggle.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He leans in closer to you. “Tell me not to kiss you right now.”

“Goodbye, Peter,” you grin.

You’re about to close the door on his face when he pushes it back open. He grabs you, pulls you into him, and kisses you.

x

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[videokilled]

Vox giggled under his breath as Alastor talked about ‘these humans’ as if he had just landed from space. He would be lying if he wasn’t getting the little flip flop of excitement in his gut at trying out his craft up top again. After all his success and practice down below.

“I’m introducing you as David they look like bible thumpers..” Vox said under his breath as one of the men moved over to intercept them understandably. Two strange men approaching their families.

The moment the man called out to him, Vox seemed to just flip his sleezeball switch, and his voice matched the others immediately. Volume intensity, even the crescendo. He shook hands with the man and immediately launched into a story about how he didn’t want to pull the man away from his family- but if he could spare 10 minutes to get them to the nearest car rental area it would be a blessing. His mannerisms were so loose and to someone like Alastor it was probably so obviously a blatant mirroring tactic. Just simple flattery and matching presumed values and priorities. Lots of flat open hand movements and within a minute, Vox was standing at the man’s side instead of face to face with him.

The man said he would have to ask his wife and it was his kids game and yadda yadda- Vox introduced himself as John and Alastor as David, and even said he had a wife he was trying to not keep waiting with a made up daughter as well.

The man seemed sympathetic but ‘had his hands tied’ until Vox mentioned that his phone service wasn’t working and how anything could happen when you were out of touch.

Then the man put his hands up and said he would ask his wife, since the half time was coming up in the game.

As he walked away Vox gave Alastor one of the most smug looks. Clearly very pleased with himself, and enjoying it immensely.

If only took another minute before the man came back, with another man at his side. Happy to tell Vox and Alastor they would indeed drive them just to the nearest car rental place in the downtown area, just about ten minutes drive.

Vox shook the other man’s hand too and introduced themselves again under their fake names and used a lot of ‘God bless you’ language. Throwing in a very shallow and tacky dad joke. To which they both laughed and said they would bring the car around, then walked off.

The tv demon looked back at Alastor with a very proud grin and rubbed his palms together like it had given him some kind of adrenaline rush.

“This is going to be so fun.” He whispered under his breath.

The tv demon watched the other arrange his outfit, and his own self consciousness grew. Nothing he couldn’t stuff down. But it felt odd. This was not something he would wear presently- and if he were honest- if he ever met the version of himself that used to frequent this.. he would off him without a thought given the chance.

The other option though was to just go about with the white t shirt he had on underneath it. And that was far too undone. Regardless of current fashion. Which- weirdly enough. He did recognize some of the fashion from the distant stragglers going about their business. Velvette had done a good job keeping them up to date on that.

He did at least however push his sleeve cuffs up toward his elbows. Then did a double take at how much lighter his own skin was, caught up in looking over his own hands again. Momentarily though.

Vox’s attention was immediately caught by Alastor asking if he knew how to traverse the sides of a road.

“I’m not walking thirty some miles. There’s traffic all over. We can get a ride. And no I didn’t get a hotel. It took me weeks just to get the location out of you.”

Vox started walking toward a much wider area that looked like it was some sort of church outing. Lots of teens and tweens running around playing soccer on some grass with the adults in chairs and chatting and laughing nearby. But it was a football field or so away, it would be a walk, but he wasn’t opening this trip with walking a dirt road pointlessly.

Besides. This was his shtick. He could get some bucket heads to drive him somewhere.

[the-guppy-fish]

And they were roommates.

Roommate!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: What's it like? Living with one of your fellow teammates? It's very nice.

Tags: Roommates, (lovers), secrets, secret fwb, domesticity, friends that kiss, PinV, no mention of protection (wrap it up irl!), smut.

MDNI 18+

Slightly proofread.

No one knew. Simon and you shared an apartment outside of the base. It was just easier, cheaper and quite nice for the both of you. No one had to know because no one ever asked where either you lived.

Through working side by side, sleeping in barracks, and completing missions together, you knew that you worked well with one another. So living together would naturally be easy for you.

Simon enjoyed coming home to a warm, homey apartment. Fridge full of all the different food you both enjoyed. Your jackets and shoes littering the entrance. Living room cosy with plush pillows and blankets on the couch, he himself would never consider bying.

You enjoyed not living by yourself. His clothes filling the shared laundry basket, and Simon washing your combined laundry to save on the water bill. You enjoyed his tidyness and cooking skills. His delicious meals after a long day were a soothing comfort to you.

He enjoyed the quiet drive home after work, late at night long after all your colleagues had gone home. You sat next to him in the car, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. He enjoyed the slow weekends at home. Evenings spent on the couch watching whatever series you had picked. He enjoyed how domestic you had become around each other. How on those slow nights he warmed your cold feet, resting in his lap.

You enjoyed the days when Simon came home later than you, and you had fallen asleep on the couch. He would press his lips to your forehead, lifting you up and carrying you to your bed.

Simon enjoyed when you were both in the kitchen, helping each other prepare dinner and putting away newly bought groceries. How your hands would touch his back, his waist, his arms whenever you slid past him, as not to startle him.

But most of all, he enjoyed the times when he heard your bare feet pad over the hardwood floors at night. When the door to his room opened slowly, revealing you huddled up in your pyjamas and a fluffy blanket.

You would close the door silently and crawl under his duvet, snuggle up close to him, and wrap your arms around his broad torso.

His arms would wind around you, pull you close to him. His nose nussled into your hair, the sweet scent of your shampoo comforting him.

"Can't sleep, lovie?" His voice tired and low.

Your head nodded into his chest. "Yeah, I just can't seem to relax."

"Is tha' so?" He pulled the duvet tighter around you, enveloping you in the plush cover. You nodded again, hands gripping the firm muscles of his back.

"D' you need me to help you relax?" You let out a sigh and nodded again.

"Please, Simon." He groaned lowly and pulled you to lay underneath him. He spread your legs and settled between your thighs, his hips opening you further.

Caged under him, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. Kissing you slowly, dragging out each movement of his lips. You sucked his lower lip between your teeth, nipping at the soft, wet skin.

He groaned into your mouth and ground his hips into your pyjama clad core. You moaned, and he let his tongue slip into your mouth, swirling it around, dancing around your own tongue. As you made out, his hips began thrusting into yours. His fingers tangled in your hair, and he groaned into you.

The feeling of him so close to you made wetness seep into your underwear. While he thrusted into you, you felt his half-hard cock grow harder and harder against you.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, lips separating with a smooching sound. You whined at the loss of his hot lips, and he shushed you.

"Let's get these off. Let me feel how wet you are for me." His fingers pried off your pants and underwear, pulling the soft fabric down your legs and letting it fall to the floor. Next, his sweatpants followed, falling to the floor with a thud.

He returned to settle back in between your thighs. "Let me in, love." The head of his cock nudged at your soaked cunt. His hand wrapped around the girthy base, and moved the head up and down your slit. The wetness coated him, smearing all over your lips.

"Si, please." You sounded needy, your fingers wrapping around his neck, keeping his face close to yours.

He touched his forehead to yours and slowly slid inside you. The thick girth of his cock stretching you deliciously. His movements were slow, cautious. He hadn't fingered you first, so he had to work you up slowly. Your wetness helped tremendously, his cock sliding easily in and out of you.

"Fuck Simon. You feel so good." Your nails dug into his neck, your lips searching for his in a hot kiss. He kissed you deeply as he began fucking you at a steady pace.

The squelching sound of your arousal made his head spin. It spurred him on to pound into you harder.

"Ah, lovie. Raise your legs for me." Simon pulled back to let your legs lift up. He almost folded you in haft, pushing your thighs close to your chest. His large hands pushed into the back of your thighs, keeping them in place.

His pace sped up, and the new position made him reach even deeper inside your sopping cunt. Juices leaking out of you, coating his shaft and dripping down his balls.

You almost wailed at the deeper intrusion, loud moans filling the room. The hard pace made your hands flail for any place to find steady ground. They ended up at the head of his bed, fingers clenching the pillow under your head.

Simon was a moaning mess as well. Deep grunts and moans spilt from his throat above you. Slowly, a tight knot inside you began to form, your release building up. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as Simons hand left your thigh to pinch your clit. The sudden stimulation making you moan his name out loud.

"That's it, sweet girl. You take my cock so well. Clenching me so tight. You're doing so well for me."

Your senses began to overflow: his sweet, dirty words in your ears; his hand holding your thigh and fingers swirling around your clit at a feverish pace; his thick cock stretching your walls and filling you to the brim; your juices leaking down the cleft of your cheeks. It was all coming together in a blinding symphony of stimulation. You were so, so close. You just needed a little more.

Simon leaned down, pressing your thighs impossibly closer to your chest. Your tits squished under the soft plush of your thighs, hidden beneath a large shirt, that said "RILEY" on the back.

His lips found yours, kissing you feverishly, sloppily. His tongue invaded your mouth, claimed the space. Teeth nipped at your lips.

He leaned back to search for your blissed out eyes.

"Come for me, love. Cream on my cock" The rough rasps of his voice sent you over the edge. Muscles tensing up, clenching his cock for dear life. He let out a loud groan as he spilt his load inside you. You cunt clenched over and over, squeezing his cock again and again. The soaring pleasure filled you veins and spread like a comfortable heat throughout your body. His lips came down to kiss you again. This time, much softer, much more gentle.

Almost lovingly.

Slowly, his thrusts subsided. Movements halting as he almost collapsed on top of you. Breathing hard and fast.

Once you had come down, he unfolded you. Kissing parts of your body in the process.

" 'm gonna get you a washcloth, hang on a second."

Simon pushed himself off the mattress and disappeared into your shared bathroom, returning with a damp cloth.

Ever so gently, he cleaned both of you and went back to throw the cloth in the laundry basket.

He came back and crawled under the duvet, like you had done not so long ago. He settled on his side, face to face with you in the dark. His hand slid over your side and settled on your waist. The other snaked under your head, acting as your plush pillow.

Sleep came fast to you now, eyelids heavy and pulse calm. Your nose nussled into his muscular chest, his scent filling your lungs, calming you.

In the darkness, you heard Simon whisper.

"Good night, lovie."

You whispered back, the sound getting muffled by his chest. "Good night, Si."

Simon had quickly come to the conclusion that he really liked living with you.

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Leathery Love

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 here's part one, hope you enjoy

and @lilacwriter07 enjoy your early Christmas present

Lilith: I'm leaving you Lucifer

After twenty years of marriage never did Lucifer ever imagine those words ever being uttered from the love of his life's lips. Especially not on the day of their wedding anniversary.

Lucifer: What?

Was all he could say to Lilith who looked both tired and disappointed with him as she sat at the table with her arms crossed. They were supposed to be eating a meal together, drinking some wine, then watching a movie. They were at home at Lilith's insistence from a few days ago. She said she wanted to spend the evening with just him. No one else was to see what she wished to do.

He just thought she wanted to try something new. Not break his fucking heart in private so no one can see him cry.

Lilith: I said I'm leaving you Lucifer, I want a divorce.

Lucifer felt his heart start to pace as his breathing slowly turned erratic.

Lucifer: But, but, but I, I don't...why Lily

Lilith bristled at the nickname for a moment before answering.

Lilith: Because I no longer wish to be in a relationship where I fell out of love with you years ago. I swore that when Charlie moved out, I would finally bring myself to get out of a place that has only brought me misery.

With that she stood up and headed upstairs. Lucifer was still reeling when about five minutes later she was coming back down with two bags full of her stuff. Her stuff. Lucifer's eyes widened at the sight of them. It meant,

Lucifer: Lilith please, I beg of you don't go! Please! Lilith

He ran to her when she got to the doors. She stared him down as he stood in front of her exit; however, Lucifer could only stare up with tears starting to stream out onto his pale cheeks.

Lucifer: Lilith...please my darling I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong.

Lucifer then proceeded to do something he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime due to the man's humungous pride and ego.

Beg

He fell on his knees, clasped his hands together, and begged for her to change her mind. Never did Lucifer ever felt so pathetic in his entire existence. He thought that it would get Lilith to at least think about doing something other than divorce. However, the thirty-eight-year-old singer had already made up her mind a long time ago.

Lilith: I'm sorry Lucifer, but I don't think you were ever meant to be mine.

With that she stepped aside, threw open the doors of their large, grand home and walked out. Never to step inside her former home again. All while Lucifer kneeled on the ground in total despair. It was only when he heard a car engine turning on did, he turn around and saw Lilith pull out of the driveway with her purple convertible and proceed to drive away did he close the door behind him to let out the anguish sob that had built up in his throat.

--

(Two months later)

Lucifer felt like his life was slowly falling apart. Ever since Lilith left, she had been sending him papers and been talking through her lawyer to him. Lilith had been one the most shining aspects of his life. In the entirety of their marriage, he devoted to making her happy. Including to working hard to provide for the both of them. So that way she could work on her music career. He bought her anything she wished for; heck he'd buy her the greatest diamond in all the world to make her happy.

In the end he guessed it just wasn't enough. When she sent him the final paperwork to sign off on their divorce completely shut the once proud, strong man down. Lucifer hadn't been out of the house in weeks and had mostly been taking to moping around the house. Or just laying all day in his bed, not sleeping, just staring up the ceiling, wall, or even occasionally the tv in his room that he put on for white noise. He didn't even go to the office.

Which would have been worse if Lucifer wasn't the boss of his toy company. Even if lately, he's been having his brother/partner Mammon and his assistant Moxxine take care of his work for him. Speaking of family, his brothers, sisters, and even daughter had seen how bad his depression had been and wanted to help him. Especially his daughter Charlie, who went to her Uncle Ozzie and begged for her to find a way to make him feel better. Since him and Ozzie have been the closest out of all seven siblings. Oz had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work

Lucifer: A sex dungeon?!

Lucifer sat across from his brother in his living room while in his robe. Oz noticed he also had deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair looked a bit oily, and he appeared to be growing some hair around his muzzle. However, despite his shaggy appearance his body was rigid, his stark blue eyes wide awake as he took in what his brother just suggested.

Ozzie: Hun, please I know this might seem a lot and too soon after...

Lucifer: I don't care about ugh her. Look Oz even if I wasn't hung up over losing my wife, I don't think it would be right to go to fucking prostitutes!

Ozzie: But that's the thing though I really think these girls or boys can help you, Luci!

Lucifer: How!? How in the hell can they help me!?

Ozzie: By helping you get over Lilith. If you're with one those bad guys down, there soon Lilith will be nothing more than a distant memory. Plus, I distinctly remembering you telling me about this one domniatrix porno you kept watching. You kept telling me how you wish you could be Lilith's naughty boy. Well now you can do that! Just you know not with her.

Lucifer: I told you about that. Since when?

Ozzie: Since that time at that barbeque back in July where you got drunk and confessed to me.

Lucifer must've been hard hammered drunk to have told his brother about that. Since usually Lucifer was extremely private when it came to what happened in his bedroom. The blond man opened his mouth to once again reject his brother's offer but then stopped to think about it. It had been so long since he'd been in the warmth of someone's arms in the bed. Even before Lilith left, she had been distant from him for quite some time.

It actually was the reason for Lucifer looking up on those sites in the first place. He knew no love would be with the person he'd be with; he still wanted to forget about his heartbreak. Even if it was for only one night. Taking a breath, he looked straight at his expecting brother and said,

Lucifer: Alright, I'll go.

[victimeyez]

And Not a Drop to Drink

Chapter 25 of Professional//Victim - Masterlist Here

Caius, Tommy, and Sam have a day out.

Whaaaaat? Tommy comfort?? Well, Caius is still Caius, but I hope this helps scratch the comfort itch several folks have requested.

Content warning: Manipulation, intimate whumper, intimate whumpee, panic attacks, brief ableist language, captive whumpee, shock collars, drugging, Caius is weird and gross but Tommy like. Gets it.

The rest of the drive out passed in a drugged haze. Sam kept him so stoned he did little else than drool in the backseat. He’d be released a once or twice a day to stumble bleary-eyed into a gas station bathroom, with Caius keeping him as close as possible without being blindingly obvious. His collar was wrapped in a bandana, but if he stepped an inch out of line, Caius could drop him with the press of a button. Even after all this time, the thought of being shocked made Tommy’s stomach churn. It wasn’t doing much else, between the painkillers and his restricted diet. 

Tommy had been complying as much as possible, trying to prove obedience before he would do what he was planning, but he wasn’t sure if Sam genuinely meant to be overdosing him. He knew it was a three day drive out when they left, but he couldn’t remember what day it was. The time blurred together - drugged in the backseat, drugged and stuffed in the hidden trunk while Caius and Sam enjoyed some attraction on the way, drugged in the back seat again. Pit stop, more pills, motel, a five minute shower. The most excitement he got was a clamshell full of leftovers from wherever they stopped for dinner. They had done dinner - twice? Or three times? He’d gotten a sandwich, but maybe that was a leftover lunch they gave him that time…Was it three days out including the day they left? His brain was turned to slush with the constant medication.

“I think it’s too much for me, I’m feeling sick,” he weakly protested when Sam tried to feed him more pills. 

“I’ll be quiet, I’m being good. Could I just take them a little later, please?” 

Sam might have told him to stop being a little bitch and take the pills - but he was a little more hesitant after the incident at the lab. He and Caius exchanged looks. Caius shrugged, but relented.

“I guess he’s been pretty conked out. He can look out the window for a bit.” 

Tommy breathed out a slow, quiet sigh of relief. Sam looked irritated, but held his tongue for once. 

Maybe he was trying to behave for Caius, too. 

It was nice to be awake for a while, and his head began to clear. He lolled his head against the window, desperate for the sunlight that made it through the tinted windows. Whenever Caius and Sam stopped, he was packed away in the dark while they got to walk in the sunshine. He felt a pang of longing when they pulled into an aquarium Sam had raved about. He looked at all the pictures on the building of fish and penguins and seals doing tricks, trying to memorize them all before he was inevitably put back in the hole. 

Cauis took to the backseat to usher Tommy into the trunk. When he leaned over him to unbuckle his cuffs, Tommy took a risk. 

He leaned in, nuzzling his nose into the soft spot between Caius’s ear. It surprised him enough that he drew back for a moment, giving Tommy a funny look. Tommy leaned in again and kissed his cheek. Little crinkles at the corner of Caius’s eyes appeared when he smiled, but he rolled his eyes. 

“Ooookay, what do you want?”

Tommy smiled shyly, his heart in his throat. He swallowed it down, Caius was still waiting. He was in a good mood though, his voice playful. Tommy could work with that.

“I’d….really like to come to the aquarium with you,” he murmured. Sweetly, like he was confessing to a crush.

“Do you have the tickets on your phone?” Sam called, from his place stretching outside the car. 

“Yeah,” Caius called back. He finished unlocking Tommy’s handcuffs and sat back again. He squinted at him suspiciously, seeming to think. That was good, the fact that he was even considering it. Tommy put on his biggest puppy dog eyes, tucking his head down meekly, playing coy.

“Please, Caius, let me show you I can be good. I’m participating now, I’m all in.”

Caius chewed it over, his eyes drifting to where Tommy’s covered collar hugged his neck. 

No, don’t let him think too much – make him want it.

Tommy leaned in, slowly. Caius let him, curious enough to see what he would do. Tommy nuzzled his neck, right in the crook of his jaw, and traced the tip of his tongue up to his ear, nibbling on the lobe. 

“Let’s have some fun,” he whispered, before pulling back again, giving him a timid grin. Mild, playful. Tease and back off, the dance he had to do to get something from Caius. If he could convince Caius that it was his idea, not Tommy’s, he might get a little something he wants. 

Oh, Caius’s eyes lit up though. Tommy had said just the right words. He felt a little thrill of excitement inside, a prickle of hope he constantly tried to suppress before he could be disappointed. Caius caught his chin, tilting his head back. 

“How could I say no to you?” 

Tommy beamed. Push down the bitter taste. We’re going to see some fucking penguins. 

~

Sam wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but it was happening. Tommy stood at the ticket booth with them, pinching himself when the attendant handed him a ticket. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!

The aquarium gates opened to a wide cement path walkway, where crowds of people were milling around. Kids raced past, an angry dad chasing them into the giftshop. The distinct smell of fries permeated the air from a stand nearby, and other stands lining the path boasted carnival food. Cotton candy, elephant ears, lemonade. Tommy had been in public with Caius a little bit before, but not like this, and it was suddenly too much. Even when they went to the conference, there was no escaping his status at the bottom. Among regular people, pretending to be a regular person, was daunting. Everyone was looking at him, overdressed for the heat with his bandana and vest and long pants. Still limping slightly, his leg twingeing once in a while. 

Can they tell? Can they see the things I’ve done?

Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the shaking. The sun was bright, tinned music played through speakers, it was a bombardment to his senses and utterly overwhelming. 

“Are you okay?” Caius asked, his arm slithering around Tommy’s shoulders. “Do you need to go back to the car?”

No. Don’t be a spazz, enjoy this. This might be…the only time. The thought made his heart ache, but he nodded.

“I’ll be fine.” He gave Caius a crooked smile, and Caius patted him on the back. 

“Good. Shall we?”

Caius took his hand, either sensing his anxiety or keeping him close. Either way, it was a comfort in a funny way. Tommy squeezed his hand, and Caius squeezed back. 

I can do this. It’s just another role to play.

Tommy settled in better once he started thinking of it as an act, relieved of the pressure to be a genuine human. There were so many distractions that it helped keep his mind off of his sore leg. Among all the other people, he realized how starkly pale he really was, his skin nearly translucent under the sun. Caius ended up buying an extra bottle of sunscreen to give Tommy a generous coat. He also let him pick out a baseball cap, pushing his unruly curls out of the way to put it on him. It was light blue with white embroidery reading CRESLEY COUNTY AQUARIUM with a shark on it. 

“It’s a blacktip reef shark,” he explained to Caius. 

“You know sharks?” Sam asked, but for once he genuinely sounded curious. Tommy nodded, showing him the hat. 

“I mean - I can name a few, that’s all. I read The Shark Lady as a kid and it like, blew my mind.” 

“I was a sharks and dinosaurs kid, maybe a little more into dinosaurs. That’s cool. God, I haven’t thought about that in ages.”

It was strange to have such a friendly exchange with Sam. Caius smiled approvingly at Tommy, and he smiled back, because he felt like smiling.

He smiled a lot while they were there - so much so that his face hurt. He felt an enormous pressure to somehow enjoy himself hard enough that it could last him for a while. Every tank and exhibit filled him with wonder and joy, but his inevitable return to misery breathed down his neck. 

The exhibits indoors were stunning. Tommy stood in a hallway, surrounded on all sides by the biggest viewing tank he’d ever seen. He watched the lazy path of a hammerhead shark cruising overhead from one side of the tank to the next, amazed at the glimpse of the creature's pale belly over the domed hallway ceiling. 

He could watch it for hours - the gentle flow of the ecosystem around him, predators effortlessly mixing with prey. A little loudspeaker on the floor explained they were so well fed, they posed almost no threat to the other inhabitants of the tank. Tommy wanted to take it all in. He imagined swimming through the tank beside a swarm of metallic silver fish that passed by, and felt a familiar pang of longing. He was a strong swimmer. It fell low on the list out of all the things he missed in his new life, but he missed swimming. 

A subtle movement drew his eyes to a large, mossy rock lurking in the bottom. It wasn’t until it extended its webbed feet that he realized he was looking at an enormous turtle. It started to make its way up, exposing its armored underside to the people milling in the hallway with Tommy. One flipper seemed deformed on its right side, and its path careened in an arc to the right. The creature looked befuddled, but quickly distracted as it leveled out and saw through the glass. It was looking right at Tommy, its little face right at eye level.

Tommy was swept up in a sudden ennui, and he gravitated towards the turtle. He felt like it should be a moment in a movie, where he has this one perfect moment where he would make a spiritual connection with the turtle. One that would somehow change the course of his life. An origin story for - turtle man, or some shit. Wait, something about the teenage mutant-

“Sir, step away from the glass,” a droll voice droned. Tommy realized he was pressed to the glass, his splayed hands flanking his nose against the thick aquarium wall. The employee startled him and he violently pulled back, stumbling into Caius. 

“Oh, I’m –  I’m so sorry, I didn’t –”

“Yeah, well we have to clean it, you know.”

Tommy flushed bright red with shame, his heart a wretched machine clamoring inside his chest. Tears sprung in his eyes, overflowing when he tried to blink them away. Caius put a hand over his mouth, pulling him back against his body hard.

“Sorry about that.” Caius stayed cool, but his voice was clipped. The employee, disenchanted in spite of the scene around her, grunted in response and trudged on about her way. 

Caius swept him through the hallway, easy enough to keep from drawing attention, but Tommy could feel the tension. He wanted to look back at his turtle friend, but Caius yanked him along.

On the other side, Caius took a quick look around before making a beeline toward the bathrooms. A mother and her children were exiting the family restroom, and Caius caught the door before it closed, drawing a few odd looks. He pushed Tommy through and shut the door, turning the lock behind him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” Tommy immediately began groveling, but fell silent when Caius raised a hand. 

“You need to get it together, or you’re going back into the car and staying there. Do you understand?” Tommy nodded shakily, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes as quickly as they formed. He didn’t know why he was crying, but the last hours were suddenly crashing down on him. He put one hand over his mouth and layered it with the other, stifling a sob.  

Caius fiddled with his phone, texting Sam to explain their sudden departure. Tommy turned and saw his face, red and blotchy in the mirror. He’d turned his hat around when they came in for the inside exhibits, and he took it off to set it on the counter. He stared at it as a focus point while he tried to calm down his panting, absentmindedly rubbing his arms up and down to soothe himself. He felt Caius’s hand on his shoulder, his other hand stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead. 

“What’s wrong, little one? Aren’t you having a good time?”

Tommy hiccuped and looked up, meeting Caius’s eyes in the mirror. He looked concerned, genuinely.

“I am,” Tommy told him, and turned to face him, though he kept his eyes downcast. 

“I am having a really - a really wonderful time. Thank you for letting me come.”

Caius cradled his face in his broad hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

The erratic moments of intimacy Caius provided could be so startling - and he could fly into a rage just as fast. Tommy sniffled pathetically and forced his gaze up, giving Caius wide doe eyes. 

Caius suddenly leaned in, holding Tommy in place as he dove down to kiss him. He caught him off guard, his mouth opened slightly in surprise, and Caius pressed his lips to his urgently. Tommy made a small sound of surprise that Caius stole, licking into his mouth. Tommy went weak, bewildered by the abrupt shift. 

Just stay still and let it happen. Caius had whispered that to him before, and he obeyed now, limp in his crushing embrace. Caius pulled back after a few moments, keeping his hold on his face while he licked long, slow stripes up Tommy’s cheeks. He lapped the tears away, his warm tongue leaving cool paths in their wake. 

The odd change of pace had actually startled Tommy out of his fit, and his panting slowed, the grooming calming him. He knew objectively was strange, but he was in tune with his master. Caius was comforting him in his own way - not a man lapping up his tears, but a mother cat grooming her young. Their bond was tangible, in these moments when they just connected. Tommy could do it sometimes with clients, but with Caius, it felt all-consuming. He pulled back and they met eyes, an understanding passing between them.

“Better?”

Tommy felt a little dizzy, wrapped up in Caius’s feelings, unsure of his own. 

“Yes, Caius,” He murmured back, his eyes lowering. A sharp knock at the door broke the tension, and Caius pulled away to check his phone. Tommy splashed some cold water on his face to quell the red around his eyes. Caius opened the bathroom door to Sam standing outside. 

“Y’all good?”

~

They toured the rest of the aquarium without further incident. Tommy was hard to get away from the touch tank exhibit, delighted by the stingrays that sucked toothlessly at his hands. 

“Their tails are clipped so they can’t sting you, but it doesn’t hurt them. It’s just like trimming nails,” an attending employee told him. She had lots of orange hair and a nice smile.

“That’s so cool, do you do that?”

“Oh, well, no,” she seemed a little sheepish to admit. 

“Still, that’s - that’s really cool, that you work here. They’re really…great.” Tommy cringed a little at his lame conversation, but she smiled again, and he smiled back. He gave her a little wave when Sam pulled him away, and she waved, too. He felt a squeeze in his chest.

I made a friend. 

Caius bought him a lemonade and fed him some boardwalk fries from his late lunch. The fried food and sugary lemonade made him feel a little sick, but he was starving after smelling it again and again over the last couple of hours.

It was hard to leave when it was time to go, but Tommy was admittedly worn out after walking so much. He hadn’t had that much sunlight in - years, really. He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much exercise, either, and he was fading fast. His exhaustion made him docile, and he slumped against the car window while he was locked back into his seat. Sam didn’t have to drug him - he quickly fell asleep.

~

~

~

Taglist:

@suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @jumpywhumpywriter

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @knivestothroats @paperprinxe

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

Thank you all so much for reading!!!

[dsireland86]

It's Folio Friday and My Birthday!

If you're the one who left the request/message in my inbox earlier in the week, I had a plan that day to work up something sweet and fluffy for you for your special day! Happy Birthday, friend! You share it with our favorite bassist as well 😊And, my favorite day of the week... Folio Friday! It's a 3 for 1 special today; A brand new Folio Fic, A Happy Birthday Message, And Folio Friday Honor.

Hope your day is wonderful! Happy Birthday!!!

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp 

He's never done this before. He's never had a need to. Past relationships have just been flings that never amounted to anything. But this, what Folio has with you, it's different. Completely different. The last few months with you have changed him, making him want to strive to be a better version of himself. You bring out the softer side of him and give him a reason to want to show it. Folio is head over heels in love with you, and today on your birthday, the very first birthday you're celebrating together, he's going to prove it.

"No, not that one. She hates pink and absolutely anything princess!" "Whoa, okay dude, chill," Nicholas mutters. "What kind of girl hates pink and princess stuff, anyway?"

Nicholas looks at Folio like he has two heads.

"The kind that isn't girly." "What's wrong with being a girly girl?"

Folio shrugs.

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it. I just said Y/N isn't one of them."

"Well," Ruffilo says, tossing the pink princess crown cake topper back on the shelf. "What does she like?"

He looks at Folio who stops to think for a moment, thinking of what it is that would make his girl really happy on her birthday. Then it hits him.

"Dude!" his eyes grow wide. "I know exactly what she'd like Come on." Folio rushes past Nicholas, betting feet out of the party store. "Finally," Nick groans, following his friend out the door.

Y/N gets out of the shower, wrapping the towel around her. Wiping the mirror to rid it of the moisture, she stares at herself. Another year older and she doesn't look any different, but man does she feel different. So much in her life has changed. New friends, new job, new house, and a new relationship. She smiles just thinking about him.

Folio fell into her lap months ago, by mere coincidence. They hit it off instantly, the connection between them being a first for both. Folio was the best thing to ever happen to her, and she never waisted a moment to make sure he knew it.

A subtle knock on the door and it opens, revealing the man who has stolen her heart. He looks delicious in his Harley hat, black t-shirt, jeans, and boots. His smile is infectious, bringing one to your lips.

"Happy birthday," Folio says, a small smirk lucking in the corner of his lips.

"Thank you," you bashfully reply, looking away from his intoxicating stare.

"You don't have any clothes under that towel," he observes, eyes etched on your body. "Yeah, no duh, Sherlock," you sarcastically reply, raising an eyebrow.

He moves in closer to you, pressing his body against yours, wrapping his arms around you. His soft kiss to your lips is enough to send your head spinning out of control, forcing you to suppress the impulses running through you.

"I have a surprise for you. But I need you to put some clothes on first." You chuckle, closing your eyes briefly. "I think that might be possible." "Good." He kisses you quickly again, patting your bottom before leaving the bathroom, leaving you to giggle and squeal to yourself like a teenager in love.

Folio helps you out of the car, a blindfold covering your eyes tightly. The smile that's been stuck to your lips since leaving the house has made his heart race, the anxiousness swelling up inside him making him shake a little.

"Nick, I'm scared," you giggle, gripping his hand tightly. "Why are you scared? Do you think I'm leading you out to the middle of nowhere to torture you and bury you alive?" You stop suddenly. "Sweetheart, I'm kidding."

Smacking his chest and hearing him laugh, you let him lead you to wherever it is he's planning, trusting him completely. "Alright, stop." "Nick, can I please take this stupid thing off now," you beg. "Yeah, yeah, okay," he mumbles, carefully removing the blindfold.

The light is bright, almost blinding. You squint trying to focus your yes and allow them to adjust. A national park sign stands before you, along with a visitors center building. You have no idea what is going on.

"Okay, I'm confused." Folio chuckles. "I figured. Come on," he says, kissing your forehead, and leading you up the hill.

You enter the building and you look around, trying to find any clue to lead you to an idea of where you are. The images you see are slowly registering with your brain the more you walk around. As the realization of where you are hits you, your eyes swell up with tears, forcing your hands to your face to hide your emotions.

"I'm really hoping those are happy tears, because if they're not, I'm going to feel like the worst boyfriend ever.” You silence Folio by pressing your lips to his and throwing your arms around his neck. He responds by wrapping his around your waist, hugging you tightly.

The Sequoia National Park visitors center is mostly empty, giving the two of you a little private time.

"I know it's not a lot, but I know how much you've been wanting to come here. You've talked about it a lot since we've been together, and I figured now would be a good time to bring you.

You stare at your boyfriend, absolutely starstruck at his thoughtfulness and kindness. It is one of the reasons you fell for him so easily.

"Nick, this is the best birthday gift ever!" "Really?" Folio gushes, a small smile breaking out over his face. "Really. I love it. And I love you," you reply, laying your hand on his cheek. "Thank you." Closing yours around his sweet face, you smother his smile with more of your kisses, which he gratefully accepts. Your words to him, the I love you, pierce his heart deeply, making his stomach flutter.

"You love me?" he replies, stunned. At first you think you've said the wrong thing to him. It's only been a few months. How could you possibly be in love with him enough to tell him that you love him. But looking at him right, so happy, you realize that it's not too soon. You are in love with him.

"Yeah, I do. I'm in love with you, Nick."

Slipping his hand behind your neck, he pulls you in and kisses you passionately, gently slipping his tongue in your mouth and tasting you. It makes you whimper as you cling to him, gripping the sides of his shirt in your hands.

When you part, Folio stares at you, but differently than a minute ago. His gaze is confident, strong, and on fire for you.It makes you weak, makes your heart race and the butterflies in your belly come alive. You're his now. And he's yours.

"I love you, too, Sweetheart. Happy birthday!"

[glassartpeasants]

How To Love .05

Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Warnings: animal death, stalking, mentions of abuse, angst, it is edited best to my slow computer abilities

A/N: here it is. yayyyyyyyyyy

~~~

Days pass without a word from the police regarding your car or the person who totaled it. Each second of the day, you checked your phone, praying for a call or a message, yet nothing. The thought of that psycho coming to the apartment haunted your dreams. They’d be staring over you, watching you sleep. And when you’d see them, they’d pull out a knife and bring their hand down. Thankfully, you always woke up before the knife actually hit you. 

It causes you to lose sleep to the point that you rely on coffee and energy drinks even to keep your eyes open. The paranoia and dread that something was wrong, a shadow towering over you, was genuinely exhausting—mentally, physically, and emotionally. 

Thankfully, Law had been getting off around the same time as you, so he would be able to drive you home. Eustass had offered a few times, but you declined. It was still hard to be next to him. To look at the face of a man who had shattered your heart so carelessly. While you were grateful for him taking you home and getting you McDonald's that night. You still weren’t able to not want to beat the shit out of him just for making you go through the heartbreak.

Then again, if it weren’t for his infidelity, you wouldn’t have reconnected with Law. You haven’t felt like this even when with Eustass. It was just like you could stare at him for hours and never get bored. Listen to him rant and ramble about his work day or the new episode of Sora the two of you watched together. There wasn’t anything he did that you could complain about. You’d do anything for him if he asked.

“(Y/N)! Did you get the mail?” Law’s voice clears the smoke in your thoughts, returning you to the present.

“Huh? Oh, no, I haven’t! I’ll be right back and get it, though!” Without wasting a breath, you put on your shoes before opening the door. Still, being careful of your hand that contains the burn you received only days prior.

As you open the door, a horrific stench hits your nose, causing you to cover your nose and mouth with your shirt. Your brows furrow as you peek your head out of the apartment, wondering what could cause such a terrible scent.

“What is…” Stepping outside, you're met with a shoebox the size of a child’s box. Kneeling, you examine the box. Pulling off one of your sliders, you use the back of it to open the lid. Upon opening it up, the stench worsens, causing you to gag. “What the hell is in there?”

Taking a cautious step towards the box, you once again use the back of your shoe to flip up the lid quickly. Holding your breath, you look inside the box before letting out a shrieking scream. The scream causes you to stumble back into the apartment before you slam the door shut. Tears stream down your face as you tremble behind the door.

Hearing the commotion, Law rushes to your aide, a look of worry and panic written on his face. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong? What happened?” He kneeled to your level to try and comfort you. You point to the door and look up at him with glassy eyes and a trembling lip.

“Outside…in the box.” A sense of unease fills Law’s stomach as he stands up. Taking another look at your terrified form, he rolls his shoulders before opening the door.

Upon opening the door, Law sees an open shoe box before the unruly scent hits his nose. “Jesus Christ-” Looking over the open lid of the shoebox, Law can feel his stomach churn. Inside the small shoebox was multiple pictures of you.

Pictures of you at work, coming home, shopping, and even some from outside the window. Many zoomed in and decorated with markers, depicting you in many ways. Black sharpie scribbled your face out, x’s over your eyes, adding horns and a tail, and even with names that he couldn’t fathom. And on top of it all, there was a dead pigeon on top of the pictures. It looks to have been deceased for a while, which is the cause of the smell.

“What the fuck?”

“I can’t believe he’s dead…” The sound of your mourns makes Law turn back to you.

“He?”

Puffy-eyed, you grab onto Law’s pajama pants leg as you struggle to breathe. “Stumpy…he was a hurt pigeon that I cared for outside my job during the winter since he doesn’t have a wing on his left side. He can’t fly and relies on me and the other cafe workers to survive. When he stopped showing up, I-...” Turning your head, you get another glimpse of the poor animal's corpse before snapping right back straight, the sight only causing more tears.

“I can’t believe someone would do something so horrible to him.” As you cried, Law couldn’t get over the multiple photos of you that were taken without you even noticing—each more eerie than the last. The fact that the person responsible hurt something that mattered to you meant this had to be someone from your inner circle.

Questions sped through his mind about who it’d be, but despite his need for answers, he knew that questions would probably upset you more. And he hated seeing you cry. 

Law sat down next to you after closing the door, leaving the disturbing scene behind him as he sat on the floor beside you. His heart beat in his chest at the proximity between the two of you, the heat of your body hitting his own as he put his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” Law felt his heart leap when you put your head on his shoulder, curling up in the comfort he offered.

“Who could do something so cruel? To take a life like that?” You whispered into his shoulder.

“I don’t know. Only a few people and your co-workers knew about him, right?” Nodding into his shoulder, you clutch the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah. People outside my job were (.....) and Eustass. And now, you. I could have sworn I told you…”

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out. I’m going to call the police to come and take the box. I have a feeling it has something to do with your car.”

Pulling out his phone, Law dials the police, his arm wrapped around your huddled body in a firm embrace. A small fire sparked in Law’s chest as he saw how serious it had become. Initially, Law thought it was a simple case of wrong identity when your car got vandalized, but now, with the scribbled pictures and the targeted attack on something that meant a lot to you, it was apparent he was wrong—very wrong.

You hadn’t said anything about the pictures, so he hoped that you were too distracted and distraught about ‘Stumpy’ to notice the multiple pictures. Hopefully, it’d give you some semblance of sanity not to have to feel fear in your own home, knowing someone was watching you.

~~~

You didn’t want to tell your co-workers about Stumpy or the photos that had shown up on your doorstep the day prior. Didn’t want to break their hearts and let them worry about a problem that wasn’t their own. It was hard to hide the shaken and paranoid look you now held in your eyes.

You knew why Law hadn’t brought up the pictures; he didn’t want you to have something more to worry about. While your heart fluttered at first, it was still overpowered by fear. You wished you hadn’t seen it. Wished you were left in the dark about the fact you couldn’t even the curtains open anymore in fear someone was watching you out of them.

Since Law didn’t know you knew about the pictures, he wanted you to stay home so that you didn’t have to be at work alone at night. While you would’ve agreed to it if the box had shown up at your job, it didn’t. It showed up at your door, right before the place that’s supposed to keep you safe from the horrors of the world. Now, what once had a feeling of safety had been tainted.

“Hey! Are you going to take my order or what?!” A snarky voice pulled you from your mind, dragging you back to the present.

“Oh-oh yeah, sorry. What can I get you, ma’am?”

Rolling her eyes, the woman crossed her arms and answered. “I’d like a thunderstorm Turnover with the Morning Matcha Latte. Hot.”

“Of course, and what size will that latte be?”

“Small.”

“Perfect, and your total comes to $7.86. I’ll get your turnover and wait for your drink down there.” With a huff, the lady pays and waits at the end of the counter. You rub your face with your hands before grabbing the monster next to the cash register and taking a huge chug of the carbonated drink.

Putting back down the monster can, you feel a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got this. How about taking some water instead? You look like you could use it.” Killer’s comforting and understanding aura has you letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks, Killer.”

Going into the breakroom, you pour yourself some water before taking a nice sip of the cold liquid. Even with it sliding down your throat, you felt no different, so you cup your hand that wasn’t injured and let water fill them before splashing it on your face. “Come on (Y/N), get your shit together. You're fine. Nobody’s outside, the sun is still up, and I won’t be closing alone. Law will pick me up and keep me safe like he promised.” The sound of your heart echoing in your ears has your head spinning violently.

“Fuck, man. This shit sucks.”

A vibration in your pocket causes your attention to shift to your muted phone. Pulling it out, you see it’s from an unknown number. Typically, you’d never answer it, always figuring it’s from spam callers. But with everything going on, you felt this could have something to do with your stalker. If you answered it, could you use the number to track them down?

So, with a deep breath, you answer the unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hello? Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?”

Swallowing your spit, you respond. “Um, yes, it is. Can I help you?”

“Great! So your services are still available then?”

“My services? I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a bitch. I’m a paying customer! Why put up ads for sex if you're just gonna be a prude broad?” Furrowing your brows, you pull your face away from the phone, looking down at the cellular device in shock.

“Excuse me, asshole, but I have no idea what you're talking about, so shove your pissy attitude up your dick and trip on a knife.” You slam your thumb down on the end button before blocking the number.

Ad’s? For sex? Not only have you never done anything like that before in your life, but why the hell would someone put up such an ad? And what desperate bastard would actually agree to something when it’s 9/10 a scam or a way to get robbed?

It didn’t make sense. How did your number and name get on a website that promotes that? It’s not like you give your number out to strangers. Especially not online. So how the hell could this happen?

RING! RING! RING!

Looking down, you see another unknown number. Narrowing your eyes, you have a sinking feeling about the nature of this call. “Hello?”

“Hello, beautiful. I hear you're looking for a good time.”

“No!” Once again, you end the call quickly, slamming it down on the countertop. “Fuck!”

Looking into the mirror, small tears of frustration slip past your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away before shoving your phone back into your pocket. With a quick, shaky exhale, you return to the front, ready to continue what seemed like a never-ending day. 

It occurred to you that the calls could relate to the harassment you’ve been experiencing. And despite narrowing it down, the thought of someone giving out your personal number to strangers for sex made you sick. The cops could track down the people who made the call, right? They have to. Maybe you could leave early and have Law bring you to the police station to give them an update. 

As you move to the register, a man approaches the counter. His face is neutral, but there is a look behind his eyes that gives you goosebumps.

“Hello. I’m Officer David, and I'm here to ask your co-workers about your case and the shoebox that was delivered to your apartment.”

“Oh! I can get them for you!” Not wasting a second, you rush to grab Killer and another co-worker to answer the officer's questions.

While you didn’t doubt he was an officer, as you saw the badge when you looked closer, he just gave you an icky feeling. “Hey, Killer, Janet, an officer wants to talk to you guys. It’s about my car?” You didn’t add the pictures or the corpse of Stumpy once again. Once again, wanting to spare them the pain of knowing a beloved shop ‘pet’ was so brutally slain.

Killer and Janet looked at one another before nodding and moving toward the cop. “I’ll finish your guys' orders, no biggie.” After giving them a thumbs-up, you quickly went to work to finish the orders.

“Hey officer, how can we help you?” Killer and Janet go to the register to answer the cops' questions.

“I have a few questions regarding the vandalization of Ms. (L/N)’s car, the shoe box full of pictures, and the animal carcass dropped off at her apartment.”

“Shoe box? We don’t know anything about a shoe box officer.”

“Yeah, first time I’m hearing about it.”

“Hmm. Well, have you two seen any suspicious activity or people nearby or around while she’s working?” Killer and Janet look at one another before Janet’s eyes widen.

“You know, now that you mention it, I think I’ve seen a red Honda Civic pull up in the parking lot around the same time every day when (Y/N) goes to take a break outside for some air.”

“Actually, yeah, I remember what you're talking about now. It has a huge crack in the front window. It never comes in for anything; it only sits in the parking lot and leaves when (Y/N) comes back in.” The officer hums in acknowledgment as he writes down their statements. 

“I see. I’d like to take a look at the tapes, please.”

“Sure, our manager will be back in ten minutes, and she can open the security camera door for you.” The cop's face turns a little sour before returning to its neutral expression. 

“No need. I’ll simply come back later.” Without another word, the officer left, not sparing you, Janet, or Killer another glance. The lack of lights and identification raised a few questions when he got into his car. But with no real reason to question it, you continue the work day.

~~~

The sound of call lights seems to echo in his ears as he types on his computer. It felt as if the entire day had been nonstop. One moment, there was a young patient with a common cold, and the next, he had a patient having an active heart attack. Yet every moment was spent worrying about you, the box never leaving his mind.

The pictures covered in permanent marker, x’s on your eyes, obscenities scribbled onto it, and even badly drawn art of you being killed in different ways. He was thankful you didn’t see the polaroids. He hoped you didn’t see the polaroids. The security video and deceased work pet were already enough hell for you. You didn’t need to worry about how many knives weren’t in the kitchen block at home.

“Oi, Law! We got a male twenty-three in Trauma Bay nine! Motorcycle accident. Brakes broke, and he ran a red light, getting T-boned by a car.” A nurse barged out in, out of breath, her scrubs already having a bit of blood on them.

Law quickly jumps to his feet and rushes towards the trauma bay. Nurses crowded the body on the bed, and cops waited outside the room, looking serious and communicating with one another.

“Officers, how can I help you?” Law asks as he moves close to the patient, his heart beating in his ears.

“Ah, doctor. We’re suspecting there was more to the crash than it seems.”

Law’s brows furrow. “Foul play?”

“Based on what our other officers at the scene said, it looks like the brakes were cut instead of simply worn out. It was a clean cut, and the brake discs were almost brand new. If anything seems weird at all, let us know without hesitation.”

Nodding, Law turns to the patient. “Alright, I’ll let you know—” Law’s eyes go wide as he looks down at the man lying on the stretcher.

“His stats are-doctor are you okay?”

“I-uh yes, sorry. I got distracted by something else. Tell me his stats again and what you’ve done so far.”

~~~

Looking at your phone, you sigh. Law got caught up in a surgery and couldn’t pick you up. Janet had already left, and Killer had left when he got a call. He didn’t say what it was about, but the look on his mostly covered face told you it was important and urgent. With both of them leaving, you and your manager were the only ones left at the cafe. You were supposed to leave at 5pm, but Law couldn’t make it. You didn’t want to interrupt Killer with whatever emergency he had and were too awkward to call Eustass.

You could always get a taxi, but getting into a car with a stranger sounded like hell with what was going on in your personal life. So you just sat at a booth by a window inside the cafe and huffed. You wanted to go to the police station to report your number being uploaded to a site without your permission, but it was getting dark, and the station was a 20-minute walk.

“Do you want me to call you a taxi? I know a really trustworthy one. He’s my brother, and he does it on the side for extra cash.” Your manager's voice clears the fog from your head and brings you back to the annoying present.

“Oh, no thanks, but thank you anyway, Reiju. I have nothing against you or your many brothers.”

“None taken. I can just see how much you wanna get outta here. Are you going home, or are you going to the hospital to see your lover boy?”

Your face flares hot as your eyes widen. “Shh! Reiju, someone could hear!”

“Oh, please, the cafe is empty, and it’s been empty since 4 p.m., and it’s 5:30. Everyone and their mom can see it. Even the regulars ask me if ‘that barista and tattooed man are together yet?’ almost on a daily basis. Your little love story is great for business, I must say.” Reiju chuckles at your horrified face.

“Reiju, I beg you, please tell me your lying…” Embarrassment fills your soul, and you wish you could disappear at that moment.

“I'm happy to say I'm not. And trust me, everyone thinks it’s so cute!” Smiling, Reiju gives you a hug before pulling out her keys. “Here, as a way to ease your embarrassment, I’ll give you a ride to your house. You still live with the doctor, right?”

Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair. “I mean, yeah, but that's not where I was planning on going. I just need to talk to the police about my situation again.”

“Is there a new development about who busted up your car?”

“I wish but no. Instead, I just got calls about my ‘services.’ From what I gathered between men yelling at me, I was able to pull that someone put my name and number on a random website and say I was willing to have sex for money. I never give my money out to anyone, so how can this happen? No one I know would do something so gross as to try and pimp me out. I’ve literally been getting calls all day by random numbers.”

Reiju gives you a sympathetic look. “Wow. This is…” She goes quiet for a moment before speaking. “Here, I’m giving you a ride. Put your jacket on, and I’ll be right back.”

You watch her run to the break room before returning with jacket and keys in hand.

“Wait, Reiju, who will watch the cafe?”

“It’s closed. Now put on your jacket and watch out for your hand. The burn still hasn’t healed all the way yet.”

“Reiju, I don’t want you to get fired, please. It’s okay-”

“No, it’s not okay. I won’t have one of my employees going through this while I'm on the clock. Not to mention, they won’t fire. Can’t fire their last manager.” She smirks at the end as she turns off the lights. Encasing the cafe in pitch black. Locking the doors, she starts her car and walks you to her vehicle. “Plus, I can just call my dad, and he’ll threaten them with legal action if they fire me. They’d do anything to keep some of their secrets under wraps.”

“Do you always use your dad to get out of being fired?”

“That's the only thing he’s good for, really.” You can’t help but laugh as she shrugs her shoulders and enters the vehicle. After hearing the start of the engine, you follow after her and jump into the passenger seat. 

“Alright, on the road we go.” Reiju pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

~~~

As you walked into the police station, you were greeted by the same cop who came to your aid when your vehicle was first destroyed. You were glad that you had someone familiar to share the new developments with.

“Miss (Y/N), I didn’t think I’d see you tonight. What brings you down to the station this late?” The officer walks you to his desk, motioning you to have a chair.

“Well, I think my stalker has put my number on some sort of site for sex. I don’t know if they did it just today or if it’s been up and just now seen. I’ve been getting calls all day about men asking for sex and to see what my ‘services prices’ are.”

The cop's face drops from welcoming to disgusted. “Oh god. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel. Do you have any idea who knows how to do something of this sort?” Pulling up his computer, he tries to search whatever corners of the internet to find the ‘ad.’

“Who all could have your number?”

“Well, I don’t give my number to many people.”

“Do you think it could be some sort of prank?” shaking your head, you dig out your phone to show him the small list of contacts you have.

“I can’t. No one I keep in contact with would do something so…gross. My contact list contains only ten people. Co-workers, my roommate, a friend or two, and regrettably an ex.” The cops hum at the last revelation.

“An ex huh? Are you sure they wouldn’t be the one to put it up? As revenge for the breakup or to be petty?”

“No way. Eustass may be an asshole, but he’d never do something like that.” yet even as you spoke, a spot inside you grew a seed of doubt. Eustass has always been very petty, but he’d never give out your number like this. Then again, you thought he’d never cheat, and now look where it got you.

The cop stops typing before looking at you for a moment. “Eustass? Can you tell me his last name?”

“Yeah, it’s Eustass Kidd. He works at Punk Victoria’s Mechanics?” You watch as the cop's face drops and the gears turn in his head.

“Fire red hair, red nails, and lipstick?”

“Yep.” The sound of your confirmation only seems to trouble him further as you watch him drag his hand over his mouth and look at his computer.

“Well, that makes this much more complicated.”

Furrowing your brows, a sense of unease settles in your gut. “What? Why?” Watching the cop type something on his computer and ignore you makes you dig your nails into your palms. “Why does that make this complicated?”

Turning to you, the cop sighs. “Well, since you are on his emergency contact list and I see that the cop who was supposed to inform you hasn’t, I will be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” The unease in your stomach only bubbles at the look on his face.

“This afternoon, there was an accident on Sterling Road. A motorist ran a red light and was T-boned by a car. The breaks stopped working, which made him unable to stop.”

“And by him…you mean?”

“Eustass. His motorcycle was destroyed in the process. He’s currently in the hospital.” Your hands fly to your mouth as you feel shock rush through your body. A wave of different emotions wash over you. The deep, dark parts of you, the part that still holds anger and rage, is happy karma got him. That he would feel how he felt when he fucked your ex-best friend. Yet another part, the side that aches from the memories of your time together, is horrified and worried. Is he okay? What’s his condition?

His motorcycle was also destroyed. You knew how much it meant to him. After spending so much money and time repairing it, he finally managed to fix it up, only for his breaks to stop working? There was no way Eustass would look over something as important as that.

“There were signs of foul play when we inspected the scene. It seemed his breaks had been cut. There was a clean slice in the middle of the line that couldn’t have been caused by anything other than them being tampered with.” The cop pulled out a piece of paper. “Is there anyone you can think of that would want to hurt Eustass?”

“I hadn’t talked to him in the past 5-6 months before last week. His life during that time is a complete mystery to me. I don’t know if he made any enemies since then. But I can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt him like that.”

“I see.” The cop looks at his computer before typing something. “I’m seeing a restraining order against a woman called (.....) (..........). Do you know anyone by that name?”

Your blood runs cold upon hearing the name. You never thought you’d hear her name and ‘restraining order’ in the same sentence. Of course, you’ve come to realize she’s a horrible person after fucking Eustass, but hearing that even afterward, she wouldn’t leave him alone furled the growing hate in your heart.

“Yes. She’s my ex-best friend. She slept with Eustass when me and him were still dating and I caught them together. I haven’t talked to her since.”

“Hmm. I see. Has she made an effort to reach out and contact you?”

“No. I have her blocked on everything.”

“But she still has your number, correct?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Alright. Well, I’m glad you came in. It’s helped both your and Eustass’s cases.”

“It has?”

Nodding, the cop begins to pull out some files and other such things. “I hate to cut this short, but I need to write these things down and consult with my co-workers. Feel free to contact me when anything else pops up.” The cop gives you a stick note with his name and work number before sending you on your way.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed. There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you. While you know you should just be grateful that they were taking your situation seriously, the fact they're hiding things from you causes an itch you just can’t scratch.

Walking out of the cops' office, you see Reiju waiting for you. “Thanks for waiting, Reiju. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

Sitting up from her seat, she smiles at you. “No problem. I wasn’t just going to let you walk home in the cold at night. Now, let's get you home. The car might be cold, sorry.”

“It’s better than walking.” You chuckle.

~~~

As you sit in the car, you stare out the window, a somber look on your face. The events of the day drained your energy.

“If you don’t mind me asking, did something else happen in the cops' office? You look more upset than when you went in.” Reiju’s worried voice breaks through your thoughts. You argue whether or not to tell her. Should you tell her you're concerned about Eustass? That you learned that your ex-best friend, who you thought you knew, turned out to be a freak who stalks your ex after sleeping with them? Maybe there could be some advice she could give you on how to feel?

“Hey, so remember how I told you about not being friends with (.....) anymore?”

“Oh yeah. Good riddance. I always knew there was something about her.”

You turn your head to her, confused. “What? What makes you say that?”

“There was always an aura to her. God, how do I describe it? I guess to me and some other people at the cafe thought you could do better than her.”

“I could do better? What do you mean?”

“Well, she wasn’t the best person. It’s not your fault for not seeing it. But there were multiple instances where she just treated you super shitty, but it just flew over your head.”

Hearing that all your co-workers hated (.....) was weird. While you understood if it was after the incident, knowing it was before it all went down made you question. Did you really not see the signs? Were there actual warning signs about her doing this?

“One incident I can think of is when you were telling me a story about how she’d taken the boy you liked to prom—twice, junior and senior year.”

A burn of embarrassment hits your face as you remember that as well. When you look back on it, you feel stupid. But simultaneously, you just wanted (.....) to be happy. You remember how she had always put herself down in high school, always saying that the people she liked never liked her back. And when you asked, she said the exact person you liked. Each time, you felt terrible, so despite wanting to be the one going with your crushes, you let her go instead. Wanting her to be happy.

“Oh…Yeah, I remember that.”

“Isn’t it weird how everyone you ever liked she magically liked too?”

“I just thought we had the same taste in men.”

“Same taste isn’t the same as stealing everyone you’ve ever liked.” Keeping her eyes on the road, Reiju continues. “Tell me honestly (Y/N), can you name one time (.....) actually did something for you? Has she ever done anything to sacrifice things like you did? Did she ever say thank you even?”

You desperately tried to come up with an incident, trying to prove you weren’t as ignorant of (.....)’s actions as it seemed, but nothing came up.

“Didn’t she always rely on you to get her homework done? She’d never done anything and always copied off you. You told me she probably wouldn’t have passed high school if it weren’t for you.”

“She told me about her parents and how hard it was to contrate when they fought all the time. Her dad hated how she went to school when she ‘should’ve been at home like a real woman.’ and that her brothers would steal and rip up her homework.”

“Have you ever met her parents? Or family?” Reiju’s question actually brought up a revelation for you. You actually couldn’t recall a time you ever met her family. Growing up, you never had the desire to. But after learning and feeling like you’ve never even known (.....), you had more questions.

“I remember her coming to school wearing long-sleeved shirts and jeans. She told me it was to hide the bruises from her dad when he got mad. They only ever lasted a few days since she heals quickly.”

“Yeah, no. Bruises take more than three days to heal. It is more like two weeks at best. Depending on how bad the bruise is.”

“I don’t understand. Why would she lie about something like that? What would there be to gain? Why would she lie about something she knew meant something to me?”

“Do you wanna know what I think? Now, this may sound cruel and harsh, but whatever. I think she was lying to you (Y/N) about everything. From my point of view, it seems like she always wanted to have a one-up on you. Wanted you to fail and be there to her beck and call.”

“I…” You were speechless. Never have you thought (.....) might be lying. She wanted to be better than you or see you fail. Sure, there were instances, but there's no way everything about your friendship was a lie. It couldn’t be.

You’ve told her things you’ve told no one else—not Eustass, not Law, not anyone except her. The things you told her you were sure would never be heard by anyone else but her. What if she told others what you told her in confidant?

“Remember when you told me how the boy you liked in college ended up dating your friend after he mysteriously never told you before that she liked him?” At the realization, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on your head. But at the same time, you never told (.....) that it was Law that you liked, so how would she have known?

“I never told her his name, though. How would she have known it was him if I never said his name?”

“You said she went to the same college as you, yeah? And I’m guessing you told her his anime at first, not thinking you’d fall for him, or she could have snooped in your phone when you’d left it open. Wouldn’t put it above her if even Eustass got a restraining order on her.”

“DO you think she’d actually go through such lengths to prevent me from being happy?”

“I think theirs a lot of shit she’d done that you’ve blocked out over the years. I think the (.....) you know is a shame. A huge lie.”

“But why? Why would she do something like this? Spend years of her life just to try and make me unhappy?”

“Don’t know. Wish I had the answers for you, but I don’t.” Reiju’s words bounced around in your head like a ball.  Distracting you from the world around you. Pulling you from reality to search your memory of the past of all the times she’s done you wrong.

~~~

“Hey, we’re at your apartment. Doesn’t look like Law’s here.” Pulled from your flashbacks, you're met with the sight of a dark rainy night and your apartment building in front of you.

“Oh, we are. Well, thank you, Reiju. I really owe you one.”

“It’s no problem really. Go take care of yourself, okay? Take a relaxing bath, eat some ice cream, and get some good sleep. Good night (Y/N), and stay safe.”

“Goodnight, Reiju. Thank you again.” You leave her car and wave goodbye. The rain hits your body repeatedly, making you rush to the safety of your apartment.

As you walk up the stairs to the 2nd floor, only one thing runs through your mind despite it being so close to home. So close to the place where you felt at least a shred of safety.

Did you really know (.....) or were you too blind to see (.....) true intentions?

~~~

Also I KNOW Reiju is actually pink but reader was pink first so-

Here is a promotion poster for one of the drinks at the cafe reader works at:

taglist:

@yuki190 @stachelrose @loraleiii @axcel-lucci @st4rfevrr @rexspersonalhell @nanapurinpurin @elen-alambil @starlightkitten19 @bby-deerling @queenofthekill @chaes-tea @emmaiscool22 @shuujin @augustanna @likeliterallywtf @iraaiitz @cherrybomb5000 @lavenderkaye106 @jabean @wrennyx @jamaicaa-blakee @ashortdork @kat2tired @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @getsue @kaptain-rebekah @reigenmagnet @rebeccawinters @keenzinemugstudent @mydearlybeloathed @firefistussy @throne-inmyside @littleleelee @thepurpleempath @yuji4lierrr @whodissbitj @slut-for-buck @ihatespidersdie @bluebunny002 @gabi-moureira @blairbellerose @luciledreamz @mrstraffy @yukiyury @lunalovesthe-moon @kenqki @100520s

[the-offside-rule]

Paul Aron (Hitech) - that way

Requested: no, just an idea

Prompt: that way - Tate Mcrae

Warnings: its acc kinda sad

It was a tough weekend. The kind that leaves you drained, questioning your choices, and yearning for something, or someone, to make it better. Y/n sat on the edge of the Aston Martin hospitality lounge, watching the paddock lights flicker as the sun set. The 2024 season was supposed to be her breakout year. After a stellar karting career, climbing through Prema, and now sitting in an F1 seat, she had every reason to feel on top of the world. But today, a botched qualifying session had stolen her momentum.

Her phone buzzed, lighting up with messages from people telling her to shake it off, but she only clicked on one contact.

Y/n Dinner? Your treat.

Paul Feeling better already?

Y/n Not even close. So?

Paul Fine. Where?

Y/n Surprise me.

Paul was as much a part of her journey as her love for racing. They had been teammates, rivals, and now, something more complicated. Ever since their karting days, Y/n had felt a connection with him that went beyond friendly competition. They’d practically grown up together, racing side by side, but the unspoken feelings between them lingered like a storm cloud. Y/n wasn’t subtle, either. She’d dropped hint after hint over the years, teasing him, nudging him toward the obvious. But Paul was stubborn; or oblivious. Maybe both.

By the time Paul picked her up, her mood had slightly improved. He’d chosen a quiet Italian restaurant away from the paddock chaos. They ordered pasta and wine, settling into a comfortable rhythm of conversation. "I still can’t believe you pulled pole today." Y/n said, raising her glass. "You’re making me look bad." Paul grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Not my fault you drive a slower car."

"Oh, don’t start. I could’ve beaten you in that Hitech any day." She shot back, smirking. They joked like this for most of the evening, the stress of the day slowly melting away. Y/n found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, the tension between them forgotten. For a while, it felt like they were just two old friends catching up. But as the night went on, the familiar warmth in her chest grew stronger. The way Paul leaned in when she spoke, the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his gaze lingered on her just a second too long; it was maddening.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. "Paul?" She said softly, setting her glass down. He looked up, his eyes lingering on her for longer than usual. "Yes?" He asked, his voice suddenly cautious. She took a breath in, hoping this wine would be her liquid courage to finally tell him. And then she blurted it out.

"I like you."

The words hung in the air between them, heavier than anything they’d ever said before. Paul blinked, clearly startled. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he were choosing his next words carefully. "I... I like you too." Relief washed over Y/n, a smile tugging at her lips as she let out her shakened breath. "Thank God. I thought I was imagining things-"

"But-" Paul interrupted quickly. "I mean, as a friend. My best friend. You’re... you’re my best friend." Her smile faltered, replaced by an incredulous scoff. "Friend? Are you serious right now?" Paul avoided her gaze, suddenly very interested in his empty glass. "I mean, that’s what we are, right?" She put her glass down and leaned closer,not wanting to have too much attention put on them. "Paul-" She said, her voice sharper now. "Everyone in the paddock can see it. Ollie, Franco, your teammate, my teammate... hell, even my engineers keep asking if we’re dating! They say you really like me."

"Well, theyre lying to you." Paul said stubbornly, his tone defensive. Silence fell between them again. Y/n looked between his eyes, silently hoping this was a joke. When he picked up his glass and sipped from it, avoiding her gaze, she took it as it was. Y/n laughed bitterly, shaking her head. She chucked her napkin onto the table and sat up. "What are you doing?" Paul asked. "They might be lying, but your eyes aren’t. You don’t look at me like we’re just friends. You’ve never looked at me that way." Paul didn’t respond. He couldn’t. She put down a fifty euro note, hoping it would cover her part of the bill before grabbing her jacket and slinging it over her shoulder. "When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself, you know where to find me." Without another word, she walked out of the restaurant, leaving Paul sitting there alone, his thoughts racing and his heart heavier than ever.

For the first time, in a long time, he realized he might have just made the biggest mistake of his life.

[jeridandridge]

I Want Something Bad

This wound needs more salt! College Years installment from anon request 🤍

This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. The alarm clock on your nightstand ticks away, the moonlight coming through the floor to ceiling window of your bedroom makes you sigh. Melissa was flying in tomorrow afternoon and for some reason you felt sick. Maybe because the last time you saw her it felt like a goodbye. Maybe because six months ago she was married and you were out of the country, unable to face those fears and desires you had regarding the woman.

Tossing and turning you shift to face your nightstand, hand resting on your pillow as you eye the silver picture frame that sits on the dark wood. Melissa had clung to you during graduation that day. Sat together in the chairs your heart jumped into your throat when her fingers laced with yours, eyes forward on the stage of the auditorium. Outside in the sun she wrapped her arms around your waist squeezing you so tightly you were sure you’d be bruised. Six hours later you were driving away in the dark headed back to your childhood home, tears in your eyes and your hands shaking on the wheel at the thought of her going off and marrying someone else. You still wanted her even now.

Morning comes sooner than you’d like it to. The warmth from the morning sun through the window warms you, hoping it was a good omen for the rest of the day. After a shower and a cup of coffee, you feel almost normal again as you get in the car for the Portland airport. During the drive your mind wanders, would Melissa be different now? You hadn’t seen her in almost a year, she was married and set to start teaching with a full life in Philly.

Getting closer to the pick up terminal you can’t help but smile when you see the redhead walking towards the car, sun glasses on and a Philly sweatshirt as always. Pulling into the line you put the car in park, hardly able to get out before Melissa is in front of you wrapping her arms around your neck. The smell of lavender hits your nose and her ring clad fingers bury themselves in your hair.

“Well hi,” you chuckle almost nervously, hands resting on her back.

“Hi yourself, big shot.” The redhead chuckles squeezing you tightly.

Letting go of your best friend you smile when she lifts her sunglasses, finally able to see those gorgeous eyes.

“I’m an intern not a big shot.” You chuckle putting her suitcase in the trunk closing it with a thud. “You ready to see what Portland has to offer?” You grin.

“Let’s get goin, hon.”

Settled in the car Melissa smiles at you, her hand reaching for yours where it rests on the center console. Eyes flicking down from the road you move your hand to reach for the radio,turning it up a bit to drown out the thought of that gold band and the man you despise. You felt as if it would burn if it touched your skin. “I’m happy you’re here finally. You ready to start work next month?”

Eyes on the road you miss the hurt in her eyes as she brings her hand back to her own lap. “I am, Kristin Marie even gave me a mug for my desk.” She chuckles.

“Aw, the wicked witch has a heart.” You tease. The thought of you being on opposite coasts hurt, but now you could throw yourself into your work opting to climb the social ladder at your current art gallery. Even if it was an internship you planned on running elbows with as many higher ups as you could.

The first afternoon and evening with Melissa goes well enough, you take her to your favorite coffee shop and bookstore knowing she’d enjoy the cozy atmosphere. Throughout the day you couldn’t help but dodge every touch she attempted to make on your arm or lower back, so much so that you almost dropped your coffee when her fingers brushed your elbow to rest her hand in the crook of your arm on the walk back to the car. You wanted her, you wanted her bad and you knew you could never have her.

You’ll just have to sit in it for this week.

“Hon, you better let me cook for you while I’m here.” Melissa breaks the comfortable silence as you two stand in the elevator going up to your apartment.

“I can’t turn down a Schemmenti meal.” You chuckle unlocking the door. “I stocked up on groceries last night.”

Inside Melissa goes through the fridge and cabinets pulling out everything she might need for a nice meal. It felt… nice, normal even after so much time spent having awkward phone calls two time zones apart to be moving around the kitchen together. As you wash the vegetables while the redhead prepares sauce, you glance up with a smile.

“So, have you managed to teach Joe how to cook anything yet?”

Melissa scoffs shaking her head. “No, he’s either at work or he comes home and sleeps.”

Turning back to the task at hand you hide your eye roll looking down at the cutting board. Typical. This was the man that threw a fit when he lost at beer pong for crying out loud. Of course he wouldn’t help his wife cook.

Melissa continues to stir, eyes landing on your back boring into your soul.

“I’m surprised you brought him up.”

Glancing over your shoulder you meet jade eyes. Composing yourself you shrug. “He’s your husband, I do know the guy.” You chuckle.

It’s quiet for a moment, the sound of the blade landing on the cutting board with each chop makes your palms start to sweat.

“You don’t like him.” Melissa states plainly, no malice in her voice as she keeps her eyes on the stove.

Biting your cheek you take a breath before lifting your head. “Hey,” you get her attention meeting her eyes with the best smile you can muster. “I’m happy for you, Red. I really am.”

It made you want to vomit saying those words but if it made her happy that’s all you care about. Jade eyes crinkle at the corner just as they always did, and that was the end of that.

Through dinner and the rest of the night you find yourself relaxed with your oldest friend. The tension that had been there is gone, even enough for Melissa to curl up into your side on the couch. Her right hand rests on your Jean clad thigh as you mindlessly watch a sitcom on tv, making comments here and there about the show. You wanted this all the time. You wanted to come home and make dinner with Melissa sod badly. To cuddle up with her on the couch after a long day so badly.

You’re brought out of your love drunken haze when the phone rings on the table behind the couch.

“You gone get that, hon?”

“No, let it ring.” You hum not caring enough to answer the phone at ten o’clock on a Friday night.

The machine clicks, and a smooth female voice comes out. “Hi, sweetheart! I guess I missed you. I was calling to see if we’re still on for drinks Tuesday night. Give me a call soon, bye!”

As soon as you hear Lena’s voice coming through the speaker you feel Melissa stiffen against your side.

“Well she sounds like fun.” Melissa chuckles with a tight smile.

Keeping your eyes on the tv you shrug. “She’s a curator for the gallery, I’ve been seeing her for a couple weeks.”

“You didn’t tell me?” Melissa pulls back looking at you. “Cmon, hon. What she like?” She asks with a quirked brow.

You’d seen this look before many times all throughout college, she puts a smirk on but the excitement doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Well…” you start off in another cycle you’re sure will continue for as long as you know the redhead.