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itsrensfairygardenn · 2 days ago

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dilf!art x popstar!reader

mdni

— during the last months of his career and the whole process of the divorce, art only dreamed about a quiet life, peace and letting go of everything that had been enchaining him through his years of pro tennis. but once he finally retired? he felt miserable and bored out of his mind; to be honest, he only felt happy when he was with lily. good thing he had patrick and plenty of opportunities to solve all these problems.

— after couple months of hibernating in his house like a bear, he found himself taking care of all business matters — he and tashi had split up all the property and the family foundation; since this brought him passive income and did not require constant monitoring, he still had plenty of free time and god knows how much money. to deal with this and his craving for someone’s company, he decided to accept one of many invitations from his acquaintances — just a fancy event, patrick said it wouldn’t hurt at all.

— when he met you there, he had no idea who you were. after all, lily was too young for being interested in celebrities, and art wasn’t even on social media. he first saw you by the buffet table — you spoke to him while he was looking for a snack that didn’t look like a calorie bomb, and you just interrupted him, offering the most unhealthy-looking thing of the entire range. you looked so pretty, and you sincerely recommended him to try it, and you was eating it too; how could he possibly refuse you, seeing your fingers stained with buttercream? and that sheer dress you were wearing… it’s safe to say that he was very interested in your company.

— seemed like everyone wanted to have a sweet piece of your attention, but you’d spent more than enough time with him before you left — you were discussing everything and nothing at the same time; when he tried to flirt with you, it didn’t turn out to be as smoothly as he’d expected, but you flirted back, and you didn’t find him awkward at all… you both were in a rush, but he managed to ask you for your number.

— of course patrick was the one who told him who you were — he was like, chronically online, having accounts on every single social media platform to keep up with the times. it’s not like art wanted to know everything about you, but patrick didn’t care — he even told him about some of your ex-partners; god, art got so unsure of himself, that he zoned out for a second, contemplating the possibility of embarrassing himself by pushing his luck with you.

— but i mean, you are too gorgeous to not try to have a tiny bit of your attention, so he texted you after days of hesitation, and it turned out that you were as eager to get to know him better as you’d seemed that night — after you’d first called him ‘cute’, he needed time to cool off.

— things escalated quickly; you were out of town, busy with the festival season, so during the day you were exchanging occasional messages, waiting for the night to come to talk on the phone when you got back to your hotel room. if landline phones still were a thing, you’d probably find yourself twisting the wire around your finger like in those old movies.

— at the moment, he still hadn’t listened to any of your songs, but you have such a beautiful voice, that he was tempted to. but why would he need spotify when there was a better option?

— he flew to your concert in another country after a week of phone calls without hesitation — and once he did that, he knew that you had him wrapped around your finger. he watched you through the entire show, waiting for you to glance at him, even if it was for the briefest of moments; he met you behind the stage as soon as you finished the show, and it didn’t bother him that you were sweaty, that your hair and makeup didn’t look perfect anymore — when you let him know that you were okay with leaving with him, he put his hand on the small of your back, leading you to his car. yes, maybe he wasn’t a big fan of pop music, but pop stars? he definitely had a thing for one.

— you weren’t exactly secret, but you were private for your own comfort — sure, people saw him at your concerts again and again, always sneaking backstage, always giving you the biggest bouquets of flowers. it was enough for everyone to make certain conclusions, and couple of blurry pictures through the windows of luxurious restaurants didn’t hurt — maybe a part of him was satisfied with people knowing that you two were a thing. he always took care of everything for you, making sure that everything was special, that the magic was there, even though everyone wanted to peek — he arranged bodyguards, cars with tinted windows, restaurants reserved just for you.

— you moved in with him in the fall, as soon as the concert season ended, and it’s safe to say that it was even more romantic than luxury hotel rooms and penthouses with sound insulation and king-size beds — you two hadn’t left the house for at least a week, and no, it wasn’t just about sex; your days were full of cuddles on the couch in front of the tv, with your legs intertwined under the duvet (you always kept the air conditioning on, so art would cling onto you a little bit more. your feet were always cold, and he always subconsciously tried to warm them up with his big, warm hands). you gave him all the comfort he needed, always making him feel loved and cared for.

— of course, his diet was still there, and he was still stuck on counting calories; he was afraid of losing his shape, especially now, when he had you, his young thing with countless other people around; all those guys who were better than him — skinnier, younger, maybe even better in bed?

— you were always there to show him how wrong he was; it’s not like you were trying to turn his daily ration into bunch of junky food, you only aimed to make him stop dividing food into good and bad; to show him that it was okay to have a dessert after dinner, or to eat a pizza or french fries when he felt like it — after he’d met you, food became much easier and tastier, just like his sports routine — when you two had days off, he always skipped his morning jog, because he didn’t want you to wake up alone in the bed, and he also didn’t have a heart to let go of you and remove your cold little nose from the crook of his neck (thanks to the air conditioner)

— you wrote songs about him — a lot of them, actually, and you rarely showed them to him before the actual release date, because you knew that he wasn’t a fan of pop music; he didn’t actually understand how those things worked, and you didn’t want to put him in awkward situations.

— “you can do a lot with fifteen minutes? that’s… that’s a lot to process, babe”

— like his ears are bright red every time he’s visiting you in the recording studio, but he always supports you as much as he can — he definitely has many of your songs in his playlist, mostly because he likes to listen to them when you’re away and he’s missing your voice; but he also enjoys thinking about the fact that you write songs about him — man untangles his old ass headphones every time he wants to hear you calling him cute boy (and also saying that he has a big dick, but he doesn’t admit it aloud)

— you’re for sure besties with patrick — he enjoys your songs too much for his own good, so when he attends your concerts along with art, he makes sure that everyone around them knows that he knows all the songs by heart; and he’ll never lose opportunity to tease art about the lyrics, too — his elbow nudge art’s ribs every time you look at him from the stage (“dude, do you have a golden dick or something?”)

— you literally made him look at his sexuality in a different way; of course, maybe it was because you’re so young and full of life and passion, or because he was so damn obsessed with you, but he definitely thought that sex with you was the closest to paradise he’d ever experienced.

— when he comes to pick you up from the recording studio, you always linger there for quite awhile after everyone leaves; sometimes you close the door, sometimes art insists on leaving it unlocked, even though he’s still a bit shy about his desires — anyway, he doesn’t think about it when you ride him on that huge leather couch that always creaks like crazy every time you start moving faster; he grabs your hips, pushing himself inside of you to the point of feeling like he’s about to pass out, and the couch is about to fall apart.

— phone sex, obviously; the best part of his day when you’re on tour. sometimes he’s so horny that your very voice is enough for him to cum in his pajama pants, but when you’re telling him that you think about him when you’re showering after a concert, or simply saying how much you miss him? yes, it indeed takes two to make him finish.

hehe thank you for reading! i got sick right before valentine’s day, so i spent the day bitchless in my bed preparing for the philosophy class, but i felt like dilf!art healed me 🐈

#challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers au #challengers fic #dilf art donaldson

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captain-bubble-wrap · 5 hours ago

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Taking Quinn home to meet your parents for the first time? Could the reader have a little brother who knows who Quinn is? Pretty please? 🎀

"Oh, be warned, mom is probably going to give you a kiss."

From the driver's seat, Quinn gave you a peculiar look as he rounded the last corner before finally arriving at your parent's house. He didn't know what to do with the tidbit of information you had given him, which prompted you to elaborate. You knew you should have probably declared that a lot earlier, but it had simply slipped your mind. It had been quite sometime since you had brought anyone home since moving away.

"Just on the cheek! She's...just really affectionate!"

Returning his eyes to the road, Quinn's tone dropped, "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Daddy will look at you like he wants to shoot you...but only for a few minutes."

It was a nervous laugh that came out of Quinn's mouth. "Yeah, that's uh-- that's good to know. Thanks-- babe."

"Oh, stop! You'll be fine!"

It was obvious Quinn was nervous, and while you tried to reassure him that everything was okay, he still looked at you with unease after parking the car. This was supposed to be a fun day, and you felt responsible for the sudden shift in the overall mood.

"I promise they'll love you!" You reached over and touched his hand. "I promise."

Quinn gave you the softest smile before following you out of the car. He shuffled silently behind you, up the sidewalk and to the front door where after a short moment, your mother answered your knocking.

"Oh, you finally made it!" She hugged you first before zeroing in on Quinn, who still was lingering on the porch. "You too, Quinn! Come on!"

While he got the mother treatment, you made your way over to your dad, who was getting up from his chair.

"So this is the guy, huh?" He wasn't the most affectionate man, nor the most chipper when it came to who his daughter was involved with, so you didn't take his lack of warmth too personally.

"Be nice! He's sweet, you'll like him. And I'm happy to see you, too!"

His grumble was to be expected. He had yet to "like" any of your boyfriends; his standards just seemed too high. "Mhm, you've said that before."

You'd roll your eyes before leaving him to go rescue Quinn. "Mom! Let him breathe!"

"Oh, he's fine! It's good to finally meet you! Y|N has told us quite a bit about you, but I'm sure she's been holding back!"

Yours and Quinn's cheeks flushed with pink; yours because your mom had just revealed how often you talked about him, and Quinn's because he was being talked about... Before either of you could open your mouths to say anything in objection, your little brother came running from his room upstairs. The sounds of his rapid footfalls made everyone turn towards the thuds. He had just turned fourteen and was loving being the only child in the house since you had moved out.

"Whoa, what is Quinn Hughes doing in our living room?" He had come to a stop in the middle of the staircase, and was staring at Quinn, mouth slightly open at the sight of the hockey player standing there.

"How do you know who he is?" Questioned your mother, confused by the sudden change of events. She looked from your brother, to you, and then finally at Quinn. He was smiling, hands in his pockets as he hated being the center of attention for anything.

"He's the captain for the Vancouver Canucks, mom!"

"The who?"

Your brother threw his head back as he sighed, still the drama queen you realized. "Hockey, mom! C'mon!"

"Attitude," barked your dad, growing more annoyed with the back-and-forth. Now was about the time that he took his afternoon nap, and like a toddler, he was getting grumpy. Your brother, ignored the fact that he was being reprimanded, an made short work of the rest of the stairs to stop right in front of Quinn. He had yet to even acknowledge you were standing there!

"You're like the best defenseman in the league! I can't believe you're in my house!"

"Meet your biggest fan, Quinn," you teased as your brother eyed you like he had caught you in the act of theft.

"You're dating my sister? What the heck?"

Quinn smirked despite the family dynamic being a little chaotic at the moment, "Yeah, for about a year now."

Your brother didn't know how to respond to what Quinn had said, and opted to give you another judgmental stare instead. He had been around ten when you moved out, and neither of you had been real close whenever you had lived together. Now, however, you felt like complete strangers; he only seemed interested that you were home because of who you had brought along.

"Gross! You could do better!"

"Parker!" Hissed both of your parents in unison. You stifled a snort at him getting double-teamed; poor Quinn, however, looked lost at sea.

"What? It's true!" He snickered, looking back at Quinn like he was going to somehow agree with the childish statement. "Hey, do you think you could sign one of my sticks?"

Breaking up your brother trying to be the center of attention, she turned back to Quinn, "Y|N said you played hockey, but we didn't realize you played professionally! You're so young! And Parker, leave him be, alright? There will be plenty of time for all of that later. They've not even taken their coats off! Come on, you two. Let me make you both something to eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

Parker couldn't get over the fact that he had just met his sports idol, your boyfriend no less. He couldn't wait to tell the team at practice. They weren't going to believe him!

#🗣 hockey mom daydreams #quinn hughes #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic

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memoirofasparklemuff1n · 22 hours ago

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you noticed- r.c. x reader

summary: being rafe’s best friend was great but every time he noticed something you did, your heart beat faster.

warnings: angst, reader has low self esteem and body dysmorphia. please, please take care of yourself if it’s a bit triggering <3

a/n: listening to you noticed by lola young inspired this. also, i spent my afternoon crying because of my dad 🙂‍↕️ but at least i tried to put it to good use. english isn’t my first language, just in case there are errors 🙃.

masterlist

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

“i really like your hair today,” he said. you smiled and looked down at your hands to hide your embarrassment.

you mumbled a thanks before changing the subject, “how’s sarah?”

rafe rolled his eyes, “you know. she’s always with john b now, so i barely see her.”

you laughed, “oh to be in love.” you lifted your gaze, only to be meet his blue eyes with an unreadable expression. you looked away before you said something stupid or worse.

“ready to leave?” he gestured to his truck with a tilt of his head.

you saluted, “yes sir.” you practically marched toward the truck before getting in.

you saw him laughing before getting in and turning on the engine. you grabbed the aux as he started driving away and pressed play on the joint playlist you had for your car rides. you lowered your window, breathing in the ocean breeze. you turned your head, only to see him smiling at you.

“i look like a dog with my head out the window, don’t i?” you joked to, again, not think of what his look meant.

he chuckled, “i think your dog name would be lola or something.”

you gasped in mock offense, “how dare you?”

rafe only kept laughing as he turned his gaze toward the road.

“what kind of dog breed would i be?” for some reason you wanted to be a rottweiler or a german shepard. they seemed cool in movies, you guessed.

he scrunched his nose in thought, making his dimple stand out. your heart skipped a beat and your breath grew shallow.

he glanced at you, “i think you’d be a pomeranian or a chihuahua.” his tone was half serious, half joking.

you punched his arm, “rafe cameron, i would not be a small ass dog.” you meant no offense to them, but c’mon.

“sure you would, they’re small and loud and annoying most of the time.” he suppressed a smile, avoiding your gaze.

you glared at him, “i am not loud nor annoying.” you knew that wasn’t true, you could be quite annoying around him sometimes. but that was only because you felt like you could be yourself around him. he was probably the only person who truly saw you. and that scared you so much.

“sure, kid.” he snorted but you knew he wasn’t serious. you rolled my eyes and leaned your head against the door for the rest of the drive.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

you had less than ten minutes before rafe got here to pick you up for lunch. you scurried around your room for perfume because the one you’d been using had run out. you found some cheap shit under the bathroom cabinet and quickly sprayed it on. you figured it wasn’t too bad. your phone buzzed with a message from rafe that he was out front. you quickly ran down the stairs, grabbing your bag and almost tripping over your shoe laces.

“shit.”

nine times out of ten, you stumbled on those steps for the exact same reason. once you got in the car that smelled so much like him, you were hit with the kind of boyish scent mixed with that clean laundry smell that made your head spin. however, he sniffed the air as if something new had invaded his space. he leaned in and inhaled the perfume on your neck, his breath tickling your skin. for a moment, you were certain your heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear, but before you could pull away, he leaned back with a faint smile.

“you smell like jo malone. i like it,” he started driving as if he hadn’t just completely altered your preference for perfume. suddenly, you wanted to run back home to find the name just so you could buy a thousand bottles online. jesus, get a grip.

you looked at what he was wearing for the first time since you’d gotten into the car, and nearly had another heart attack at the blue sweater he wore along with blue jeans. you quickly pulled out your phone in an attempt to distract yourself from staring at him in awe for the rest of the drive. this lunch was going to be eternal.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

the bathing suit was one you usually wouldn’t try on but because rafe insisted the color would look good on you, here you were looking in the mirror. only to now be singling out every part of your body that you felt needed fixing. you took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. it was one of those days where the hatred towards your body was at a high level.

before you could duck back into the dressing room, rafe appeared behind you in the mirror.

his smile was one of the most beautiful ones you’d ever seen.

“see? i told you it would look good on you.”

“you really think so?” you winced when you heard the uncertainty and vulnerability in your voice. he noticed, of course he did.

“of course. i love your body in every form and in every way,” the way he said it and the way he looked at you made you realize that he did mean it. and that only made things more complicated. because you couldn’t have him, when you knew it was gonna end. there was no way you’d be friends.

you nodded and excused yourself to change, not noticing the hurt expression on his face at your dismissal.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

your little sister was sitting on the front porch, painting. you and rafe stepped outside to say goodbye. he had an interview today that was for a job he’d always wanted, so he’d come to your house for a quick pep talk. you’d helped him with his tie, the proximity becoming overwhelming. your fingers had shaken a bit and of course he noticed, but didn’t say anything. you avoided his gaze after that and began rambling about how he needed to act in the interview and what things to say. he’d smiled to himself and hugged you, “thanks, kid.” he kissed the top of your head and that shut you up. sure, he’d shown affection towards you but this time it felt different. he’s just being nice, you told yourself.

and now he was talking with your sister about her painting. you leaned against the door as you watched them interact and frowned when he sat down and loosened his tie.

“hey, you’re going to be late,” you said.

he looked back at you and dismissed your remark, “i promised her i’d help her with her painting.”

“rafe. this interview is important. you’ve wanted this since forever.” your throat grew tight with emotion. there was no way he would miss it just to help your sister with her painting.

he smiled softly, “don’t worry about it. i’ll figure it out.”

“but—“

he cut you off with a look that was clear he was done arguing. you nodded and turned so he couldn’t see the tears that had begun spilling down your cheeks. the thought that formed in your head was clear, i love him.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

the boneyard had been like any other, only this time rafe drove you home. you usually left with sarah and the rest of your friends but you weren’t feeling great. the ride home had been quiet, the reason being the argument you’d had at the party.

you’d seen him talking to a girl and she was laughing at all his jokes, which you knew couldn’t possibly be that funny. but what had pissed you off more was the way she had wrapped her arm around his as if he were hers and the fact that he hadn’t pushed her away. the world got blurry and you threw up at the thought of them kissing. sarah had freaked out and insisted to get you home but you said you were fine, that you just needed fresh air. which was stupid because you were at the beach with plenty of fresh air.

you just needed to get away from there, away from him. you stumbled towards the parking lot to wait in the twinkie for the others but you heard someone shouting your name. shit.

you walked faster as if that would make a difference. he’d seen you and he knew you’d heard him but you still kept going. you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your wrist pulling you to face him. his hair was mused and you saw the faintest hint of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. you felt sick all over again and turned away just in time to not puke on his shoes. thank god. this was embarrassing enough as it is.

“woah, are you okay? c’mon, i’ll take you home,” the worried tone in his voice made your heart break a little. you knew he cared because you were his friend —key word— and that only made hating him even harder.

you jerked your arm away, “i’m fine.”

he frowned at your reaction, “hey, what is it?”

you felt feverish and that was probably why you said the words that came out of your mouth, “nothing. shouldn’t you be out there with miss outer banks over there?”

you only then realized how stupid you sounded but the words were already out.

his face still held the same expression of confusion, “i don’t know what you’re talking about. sarah told me you were sick so i came to check up on you.”

that only made you angrier, “well i’m fine. i’m not a little kid that needs to be taken care of. you can go back to the party.” you turned to keep walking but he took your wrist again and this time grabbed you by the shoulders, glaring down at you.

“don’t fucking walk away from me. i don’t know what the fuck your problem is but you’re not going to take it out on me.” he had never spoken to you that way. and now he was too close and the lipstick was too close to you and the jealousy in your stomach made its way to your tongue.

“oh, i’m sorry. country club over here thinks he’s the center of the universe. well, news flash! you’re not because not everything is about you. i don’t need your help nor did i ask for it.”

his jaw clenched and he lifted one of his hands to grab your chin, making it impossible to get away.

“you’re being completely immature and rude. and i’m not saying it has anything to do with me, but you are making it about me when you’re treating me like shit.” you tried to speak but his hold wouldn’t let you.

“i’m taking you home. end of story. tomorrow we’ll talk about your ridiculous behavior, okay?” you glared at him, because it was the only thing that you could do.

he finally let go of you and you gently touched your chin. it didn’t exactly hurt but it felt tender.

he grabbed your hand and led you to the truck, then proceeded to pick you up by your waist and put on your seatbelt. the whole thing made you feel like a child being scolded by their parent. he slammed the door before getting in the driver’s seat and driving towards your house with a hard grip on the wheel.

now here you were sitting in silence inside his truck, staring at the front porch of your house.

the tension in the air was clear, neither of you was willing to extend an olive branch but because rafe knew how stubborn you could be, he decided to speak first.

you heard him sigh, “kid, i’m sorry. i was just worried about you and the way you treated me made me angry. you know you can talk to me, you’re my best friend.”

you squeezed your eyes at that, the tears falling onto your lap but thankfully it was dark enough for him to notice.

you felt his hand under your chin, turning your head to face him, “hey, what is it?”

when he saw your tear-streaked face, you saw his anger dissolve into worry. he wiped your tears away and pulled you into a hug, which only cause you to cry harder. he ran his hand down your back in soothing motions, knowing you just needed to let it all out. once you were done, you pulled away, only to be inches away from his face. that’s when you saw something click behind his eyes, causing you to wince internally. you looked down at his lips and leaned forward pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. you then pulled away before he could react, getting out of his truck and running into your house. after locking the door behind you, you ran towards your room and locked that door as well before slumping down against it. you brought your knees to your chest and lowered your head into your arms, sobbing.

thoughts kept circling your head but you could only form the one thing you wanted to say to him but couldn’t.

i tried my best to not love you tonight and you noticed.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

sorry if this was bad lol. ty for reading <3

#lola young #you noticed #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe x reader #obx fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe x you #obx #rafe angst #outer banks angst #rafe cameron angst #best friends #unrequited feelings #Spotify

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ak-vintage · 2 days ago

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I'll Pick You Up

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: On your first Valentine’s Day together, Javier shows you how much you mean to him.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Post-canon Laredo Javi, established relationship, Valentine’s Day on the Peña ranch, romantic gestures, all the fluff and sweetness, a little “M-rated” smut (references to other sexual encounters, oral sex (f receiving), P in V sex, creampie).

Word Count: 1.2K

Written as a Valentine’s Day gift for my dear friend Kat @sunshinehaze1! Credit to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Read on AO3 | Main Masterlist

Javier Peña has never been the type of man to express his love through grand gestures of romance. Instead, he attends to the everyday.

His hand against the small of your back, ushering you gently, protectively in and out of shops and restaurants and bars. Gas in your car every time he spots it running low. A doorstep delivery of pozole and decongestant when you’re sick. Your favorite brand of body wash in his shower. French vanilla coffee creamer in his fridge, even though you know neither he nor Chucho would ever dream of drinking their coffee any way other than black.

He takes care of you, in his own steady, thoughtful way. But when the subject of Valentine’s Day comes up – the first you’ve ever spent together – you have no expectation that he will have some grand plan to sweep you off your feet. You assume you’ll go out for dinner, maybe some place a little nicer than your usual haunts. A possible bouquet of flowers, a very probable night of spine-melting sex. Nothing fancy. That’s not who Javi is.

But he surprises you. When you broach the topic, he tells you, “I’ve got some ideas. Actually, I think I’d like to surprise you.”

You agree with a puzzled smile, your only request that he at least tell you the time and what you should plan to wear.

On the morning of February 14, you find a note taped to your coffee pot as you’re getting ready to leave for work.

Tonight – 5 PM I’ll pick you up. Dress comfortable. Happy Valentine’s Day, cariño!

He’s in your driveway at 5:00 on the dot, his broad shoulders testing the stitching of a long-sleeved flannel shirt he’s tucked into his signature blue jeans, and you doubt that he has ever looked more handsome. He opens the door to his old pickup for you, offers you a hand to help you up onto the bench like you haven’t ridden in it a thousand times by now. The gesture has heat blooming in your cheeks regardless.

Something by the Eagles hums low on the radio in the background as he drives, knees spread wide, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh. It’s so comfortable and pleasant, just to sit in the silence with him, that it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize he is heading in the opposite direction of town.

He’s taking you back to the Peña ranch.

When you ask him why he’s just taking you back to his house, he simply replies, “I’m not taking you to the house, baby.”

You end up turning off the main road at some point, taking a dirt and gravel path deeper into his family’s land, far out of line of sight of the old farmhouse. Eventually, even the path disappears, and you’re left bumping through an open field until he finally comes to a stop in the shade of an old tree, standing lonely sentinel in the middle of the rolling acres.

Beneath the tree, a large blanket covers the scrubby grass, and you spot a basket and a bottle of wine (your favorite kind) resting against its roots.

Javi isn’t much of a cook, but as you unpack the basket and spread out your bounty, you discover that that hasn’t stopped him from going all out. Huge, fresh-looking sandwiches wrapped in butcher paper, a selection of prepared fruits and vegetables, and more single-serve bags of chips than you could ever eat make up the bulk of the spread, though there is a wide, shallow container at the bottom of the basket that he tells you is a surprise for dessert.

When he pops the cork on the bottle of wine, he proposes a toast – “To our first Valentine’s Day. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, cariño, but I promise to keep doing it.”

You hush his smiling self-deprecation with a swift kiss and assure him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

When you’ve had your fill of dinner, and perhaps one too many glasses of wine, he finally allows you to open the dessert container. Inside are a half dozen oversized strawberries, gleaming bright red and boasting fluffy green stems. All of them have been dunked rather haphazardly in dark chocolate, a few sporting wide, smudgy thumbprints in the matte brown surface, and you can tell immediately that he made these himself.

“Chocolate-covered strawberries? So fancy!” you cry, delighted, eyeing Javier with a playful grin. “Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk, his dark eyes crinkling as he sweeps his gaze from your face to the swell of your breasts to the curve of your hips and back again.

“Just thought you might like a little something sweet,” he purrs, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lower lip. And there he is – that’s the Javier Peña you know and love.

He gathers you into his lap, slots your knees on either side of his narrow hips and plants you firmly on his denim-covered thighs. He feeds you the strawberries from his fingers, chases them with kisses. When the chocolate melts and smears across your face, he licks it away slowly, teasingly. When you slip your tongue past his lips, his mouth tastes like wine and sweet fruit.

Eventually the picnic is forgotten. Javier lays you back onto the blanket, spreads you out like his own personal feast, and takes you apart as the sun begins to sink lower in the February sky.

“Mírame, nena,” he growls from between your thighs, dress hitched up around your waist, panties yanked to the side as he buries his face in your wetness. “Look at me while you come.”

You demand the same of him when you have him on his back, his jeans hanging open and pulled down just far enough for you to sink down onto his cock. You can feel his belt buckle and the teeth of his zipper biting into the flesh of your inner thigh as you ride him, but you pay it no mind. In fact, you relish the sting. Beneath you, Javier’s deep brown eyes struggle to remain locked on yours, the muscles in his sharp jaw fluttering as he clenches down and groans into the rapidly-cooling air. Half an instant before you find your own pleasure, you feel the warmth of his release deep inside you, and you follow him over the edge with his name on your lips.

It is well and truly dark by the time you’ve gathered up the picnic supplies, tossed them into the bed of his truck, and made your way to the Peña farmhouse. Javier offers to drop you back off at yours, but these days you spend more nights curled up in his bed than you do your own, so you decline.

You run into Chucho in the living room just as he is heading to bed, the older man a rancher to his core and never awake past 8:30. You chat for a brief moment, and both you and Javier wish him goodnight, but not before he pauses in the doorway, looks you both over from head to toe, and with a knowing smirk, informs his son that he has grass in hair. Javi’s ears burn a vivid crimson as he swipes at the back of his head, and his father’s low, warm laughter follows the both of you up the stairs as your boyfriend quickly pulls you to the privacy of his second-floor bedroom.

Unable to help yourselves, the two of you come together once more under the light of his old bedside lamp, the door firmly locked, bedframe pulled away from the wall, and Javi’s hand over your mouth to stifle your moans. Chucho sleeps like the dead, thank god, but even one comment implying his full awareness of your sex life with his son is enough for you for one day. You can’t be too cautious.

After, Javier is his steady, thoughtful self. A glass of water on the nightstand, a warm, wet washcloth for the mess between your thighs, an extra blanket for the bed because he knows how chilly you get in the night. When he slips under the covers with you, you settle into his arms like that little hollow between his chest and collar bone was made for you. You tuck your head there, threading your arm around his waist, and drop a kiss to his soft, bed-warm skin.

“Hell of a first Valentine’s Day, Javier,” you whisper, face half-buried in him, sleepy smile pressed into his chest. “Don’t know how you’re gonna top it.”

Beneath you, his shoulders shift slightly in what you interpret as a shrug, and his arms tighten their grip around your body. “Me, neither. But I’ve got a lifetime to try.”

#javier peña #narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x you #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

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heedeungism · 3 days ago

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valentines special !

•°. *࿐ PAIRING ― riki nishimura x fem!reader •°. *࿐ SYNOPSIS ― in which riki is smitten. •°. *࿐ GENRE ― one-shot, established relationship, fluff, comfort •°. *࿐ WORD COUNT ― 2k •°. *࿐ CONTENT WARNING(S) ― mc has a flu-like sickness (so expect sick person stuff), my single ladies…you will feel more single during and after this •°. *࿐ EXTRA NOTES ― happy valentines day! mc and riki are here to make you feel single and lonely, featuring jake and shadow the hedgehog! •°. *࿐ SOUNDTRACK ― busy woman by sabrina carpenter

Valentine’s Day—you’ve decided—is the worst holiday ever.

Not because you don’t love chocolate, attention, and pink, but because you’re sick.

Of all days to come down with what you assume is some kind of deadly plague, it had to be Valentine’s Day. Not only was this probably the worst thing to happen to you behind getting cheated on with your best friend, but this is your first Valentine’s with Riki.

He has been teasing a special date since the beginning of the month, acting clueless when you question him about it and hiding things in his closet. You even tried to ask his mom and sisters, but they all refused to peep.

The year you’ve spent with Riki has been a dream. A new bouquet of flowers every two weeks, sweet texts good morning, falling asleep on FaceTime together, date nights every week that he insists on paying for.

His efforts only doubled after graduation, the hour drive to your college campus adding miles to his Jeep like no tomorrow yet he never complains.

He’s so perfect it’s borderline infuriating.

So perfect, that when he noticed your cough two days before Valentine’s, he told you to go to the doctor. You—being you—dismissed it as allergies.

Riki knew better than to bring that up when he was rubbing your back comfortingly during a painful coughing fit at 2:00AM this morning, too busy fussing over the tears streaming down your face. A trip to the Urgent Care and CVS (where you suffered in his car alone for a whole five minutes while he got your prescription) later and you were ordered to rest inside until the medication takes effect.

Now, you’re stuck in bed with the plague on Valentine’s Day instead of on whatever surely-amazing date he had planned and you’re pissed.

You’re sitting with your back propped up against numerous pillows, covered by your boyfriend’s biggest sweatshirt and under his duvet sleeping with ‘Derry Girls’ on his laptop while he makes you soup in the other room. There’s a trashcan full of tissues beside the bed and his black Stanley filled with cold water on the nightstand.

He’d been trying to persuade you to drink from it all morning, sighing that it’s ‘good for you’. Unfortunately, your obstinance is only exacerbated by your sickness, and you want nothing more than a chilled can of Dr Pepper in your hand. Riki, however, refused, saying the sugar would make you feel worse.

“I’m breaking up with you.” You had hoarsely grumbled while turning away from the spoon of cough medicine he had been holding to your mouth when you asked for a Dr Pepper.

The cough medicine put you straight to sleep, and late morning became early evening when you woke up to your lungs trying to claw their way up your throat again.

You’re resting your eyes when his door creaks open, and when you see him enter with a bowl of soup and a chilled mini-can of Dr Pepper with a pink bendy straw in it you blink the sleep away and slowly push yourself to sit up.

“How’s it going, baby?” He asks, deep voice so soft and gentle that you want to cry. You might.

For now you just make a face as a response, and he huffs softly in amusement, setting the bowl down on a lapdesk he pulls from between his bed and nightstand. “Horrible.”

His eyes soften at the near inaudibility of your voice, “Yeah? I’m sorry.” Once he’s got his hands empty he leans down to kiss the side of your head gently. The back of his hand presses against your forehead and he hums thoughtfully, “You’re fever’s gone down.”

“You’re letting me drink Dr Pepper?” You ask weakly, already looking close to tears.

Riki smiles softly, nodding, “I went to the store while you were sleeping to get the stuff to make your soup, thought I’d bribe you to take the medicine again after you’re done eating.”

“Only this one time.” You state with heavy eyes and a sniffle punctuating your sentence.

“I facetimed my mom for the recipe while I made it, so it shouldn’t be bad.” He says, motioning to the soup, like it’s nothing. Meanwhile, your weak and delicate state has tears falling from your eyes so fast he gets whiplash.

“That’s—so sweet.” You weep pitifully, too busy not feeling well to care that you sound like a child.

Riki’s holding back a smile full of pure adoration as he pets your messy hair fondly, “Stop crying, baby. It’s soup.”

“I know-“ You croak, hands clumsily wiping at your face, “-but I don’t feel good and you’re being so nice to me.”

“I’m always nice to you,” He jests softly, yet you can’t help but agree. With more tears, of course.

The soup is amazing for your sore throat and clogged sinuses, a bit bland but still tasty(you assume he didn’t want to go in heavy handed with salt). It was much better than the wretched cough medicine he forced you to take afterward, but you were allowed to wash it down with the last of your Dr Pepper this time. When he leaves the room to put away the dishes with a gentle kiss on your warm temple and a promise to be right back, you debate grabbing his laptop or acting helpless and making him grab it from the end of his bed when he comes back.

You sigh, he would probably do it without any complaints.

And he does. When he comes back, he grabs the laptop with one hand and pulls it over to your sniffling form without you even needing to ask, “What do you wanna watch, hmm?”

Shifting over in his bed, you silently pull the duvet up to let him slip underneath and lay with you. He doesn’t hesitate to do so, but the smile on his face makes your cheeks burn even now as you press it to his chest and heave a sigh of relief. “I don’t know.”

He hums, using one hand to scroll through the options on his laptop while the other rubs gentle shapes against your back, “How about…Sonic?”

You try to hum back but it doesn’t come out, “The third one?” Hearing the chuckle under your ear, you weakly pinch his side and add, “Don’t laugh.”

“Sorry, baby.” He apologizes sweetly, though you can hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll put on your other boyfriend.”

“You’re on thin ice.”

“I’m done, I swear.” He practically giggles, and you sigh.

Ten minutes into Sonic 3 you mumble, “I’m sorry for ruining Valentine’s.”

You feel the low hum in his chest beneath your ear, “You didn’t ruin anything, pretty girl.”

“I know you had plans for us,” You mutter, “but now you're stuck taking care of me.”

“I don’t mind, you’re cute when you’re sick.”

You don’t have enough energy to respond how you always do, and when he doesn’t hear the ‘I’m always cute’ he expects, he exhales softly. One hand traces mindlessly over your side while the other delicately moves through your hair. “We can have a redo date when you feel better.”

“Okay.”

The next two days are just as miserable as the first morning. When you find out that Riki has been skipping classes to take care of you, you try to lecture him on how important school is—but the effect is ruined by your barely-there voice. He ends up obliging you, though. The issue now has become his roommate.

“Knock knock,” the Australian practically coos, clearly amused by your appearance all bundled up and miserable in Riki’s bed. He has a bag in his hand of what you assume is the ice cream you asked him to get, two spoons in the other that opens the door. “How’s patient zero?”

“You sound like a middle-aged white man.” Your voice is still hoarse, going in and out as you speak while the back of your throat grates painfully. “And saying knock knock is not the same as knocking.”

He has the same grin on his face as he glances towards the laptop, the Super Mario Bros Movie paused on the screen. “The Mario movie?”

“Where’s my ice cream?” You ignore his teasing question, “And Riki said you’re not allowed to be annoying while I’m ill.”

“Right, my bad.” Jake holds up his hands in mock surrender, pulling out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Covered Strawberry ice cream and placing the spoon on top as he holds it out, “You’re ice cream, your grace.”

You blame the fact that his exaggerated accent almost made you snort on your weakened state, and take the ice cream with a huffed ‘thank you’. Jake pulls over Riki’s gaming chair, and you decide against telling him to go away since he really didn’t have to get you ice cream, you were gonna ask Riki if he said no anyway. But, alas, you aren't heartless. Unfortunately.

You get two minutes into the movie before he’s asking if you like Mario or Luigi more, and a few minutes later you hear the sound of Riki arriving home. Relief is an understatement with how much you were dreading entertaining Jake for the next hour, and you feel the tension in you melt away the moment he appears in the open doorway.

He acknowledges Jake briefly before his gaze softens and a smile forms on his lips as he greets you gently, “Hi.”

Pausing the movie again, you move the laptop out of his way as he approaches the bedside. You tuck one of your legs in to give him room, and he sits on the edge of the bed by you with a soft kiss pressed to the side of your head, “Hi.”

“Feeling any better?” Riki asks, and you shrug slightly with a ‘meh’ face before putting another bite of ice cream into your mouth. His gaze flicks to the pint and his brows quirk up.

You mimic him, taking some of the sweet treat onto the spoon and holding it up to his lips. He shakes his head, and when you blink at him and continue holding out the spoon, he rolls his eyes playfully, “I don’t want you sick cooties.”

“I stopped being contagious when I started antibiotics,” you swiftly defend yourself, but take the bite for yourself anyways, “But I don’t like your attitude, so none for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Riki apologizes swiftly, though that smirk is still on his face so you decide against forgiving him. He leans over your lap, resting his weight on his knuckles on the other side of your leg, his lips brush over your cheek gently in an expression of good faith you can’t help but accept.

You hear an exaggerated sigh before you can respond, and the both of you look toward a pouting Jake. “Why are you still here?”

Your question has his pout morphing into a grin, “Entertainment.”

The look on your face must be withering enough for him to concede, standing with his unfinished pint and walking backwards towards the open door, “Okay, okay, I’ll leave….” The moment Riki’s door closes, his focus is back on you.

“Does the ice cream help?” He asks, and you nod.

“Kind of, not really.” You shrug slightly, “I just really wanted some.”

“So you convinced Jake to get you some?” He questions a bit teasingly, still comfortable leaning over your lap and in your space. You find yourself at ease.

“I asked, he said sure.” You retort, “I was gonna ask you but I forgot what time your classes ended today.”

He hums, unable to stop himself from pressing another sweet kiss to your other cheek, then another on your jaw, “There’s another pint in the fridge. I stopped on the way home.”

Your eyes close with a sigh, leaning into his kisses and meaning it when you say, “I love you.”

You feel him smile against your skin, and hear his soft chuckle in your ear before he pulls away just enough to look at you again. Then, he leans in one more time to press a kiss to your chilled lips and says it back a breath away from them.

“I love you, too.”

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

#enhypen #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki nishimura x y/n #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki x you #highschool au #ni-ki enhypen #valentines special #blurb #enhypen x yn #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #riki 🩷#enhypen fluff #ni-ki drabbles #busy woman 💋

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themareverine · 2 days ago

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in the cards | a continuation of Curves and Curls | dofp!logan x plus size!reader ╰┈➤ COMING SOON

summary: it's getting harder not to believe in fate. months have gone by since his hookup with the quiet little thing from the not-so-quiet bar, and if he's honest, seeing her again wasn't in the cards. "I never got your number, " "I know, I never gave it to you."

warnings: mentions of a hookup, plus!reader, curly!reader, 21+!reader, a public make out session, a very shirtless Logan, mechanic!Logan, flirting, language.

a/n: before anyone loses their minds, yes, @bpmiranda knows I'm writing this and si, she did give me the greenlight. i was so moved by her piece that i had to try these two for myself. and Miranda, Jan. 9 is when I think we officially became talk-everyday friendos, so here's to our month+ situationship! and yes i know the car isn't a Nova in the banner, dream with me, would you?

navigation | masterlist | @bpmiranda's Curves and Curlslet me know if you want added to my tags! ♡��

TEASER

Her. How the hell—?

More of a question than a realization. Logan’s heart slams forward against his ribs and it’s almost tough to breathe as she materializes from the sunlight reaching beyond the mouth of the garage.

Quickly Logan gets that same something in the pit of his gut he had months ago when he’d almost overlooked her in the lowlight of the hopping bar, drinking something simple and nose tucked away in the quiet pages of a faraway world. Any other conversation with John, any other answer, and he’d maybe have missed her altogether.

Seems like stars have sligned.

It's getting harder not to believe in fate.

Smoothly, somehow, he manages out of the open window of the Nova and stands to his full height, shoulders back a little straighter than probably necessary as he considers her – she hasn’t made him, yet. Too busy considering her surroundings, weighing the weight of the shop on otherworldly scales of judgement and poise.

She still has that quiet strength, the steely confidence he remembers—her eyes are still sharp.

The hint of a smile on her lips must just live there, he thinks, and Logan tries not to notice how absolutely perfect she looks—just like the first night. Their first night.

Recognition skips through her gaze like a freight train, heavy and knowing. “Well. What a surprise—look at you, stranger.” Her palm flattens against the cool steel of the Chevy, head cocking just so as her eyes flick over him.

“Didn’t know you worked around here, Logan.”

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natimiles · 2 days ago

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Perfect for us (Greyson x reader)

Words: 2191

Tags: pre-relationship; fluffy; first kiss; confessions; brief misunderstandings; Greyson blushing beautifully; Greyson being shy but trying to be assertive; you’ve been friends for a while, in case it wasn’t clear ashusahuoahuea

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“This is it!” You say to yourself. With one last glance at the car’s rearview mirror, you meet your own determined gaze. “You got this!” Taking a deep breath, you step out of the vehicle with a box of chocolates in hand.

The mantra “it’s okay, everything will be fine” echoes in your mind as you walk through Akso Hospital. The parking lot, the garden, the main reception… You know the way by heart, and your body leads you without hesitation to the cardiology ward.

And that’s when your body betrays you.

Your feet freeze in place when you see Yvonne’s desk and the flow of people bustling back and forth. Your eyes lock onto the floor as your mind reminds you that, despite it being Valentine’s Day, it’s still just another workday for those tirelessly working there. The determination you had five minutes ago starts to crack as you realize that your presence might disrupt his work — especially for something so… trivial.

If regret could kill, you’d be dead on the floor right now.

How did you not think of this before? It’s obvious this was a stupid idea! Who buys chocolates for their crush and brings them to a hospital to give them? Sure, the hospital is his workplace, but that doesn’t help now! You shouldn’t have come to his workplace for this… You can give him the chocolates another day. Probably. You should just turn around and leave before someone sees you.

“Excuse me, Miss!” A voice calls from behind you, but you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even recognize who it belongs to.

“Sorry,” you reply, stepping to the side, thinking you were just in someone’s way. Your eyes remain fixed on a random spot on the floor, your shoulder leaning against the wall as you continue your internal debate.

The person passes by and stops next to you for a few seconds, but you don’t even notice. Only when a pair of feet appears in your line of sight do you realize that the person is now standing in front of you. Confused, you look up, meeting familiar gray eyes that watch you with curiosity behind the glasses.

“Greyson!” Your eyes widen, and your first reaction is to grip the box of chocolates tightly as you hide it behind your back.

“Ah, so you finally noticed me here,” he says with a light teasing tone, his usual gentle gaze locked on you. The doctor obviously notices your suspicious and far from discreet movement, but he just gives a small smile as he speaks. “What brings you here?”

“I… I was, uh, looking for someone.”

“I can help you, if you’d like. Who do you need to talk to?”

“No, I… I should leave and wait for another time to talk to him. The hospital is busy, and I don’t want to interrupt. This was a silly idea,” you smile awkwardly.

“Oh…” A look of understanding passes across his face as his gray eyes briefly fall on your arm, still hidden behind you, for a fraction of a second, but it’s more than enough for you to notice. His smile falters when he realizes what’s going on, and his voice sounds less cheerful when he responds. “I see.”

The man can’t help but feel upset, especially because he put in extra effort and worked later than usual in the past few days to try and have some free time to ask you out today. The whole thing was supposed to be a surprise, given that emergencies happen all the time at the hospital, but he had just made sure his plan could go ahead when he saw you standing in the middle of the hallway. And now knowing that you were here at the hospital possibly to deliver chocolates to someone else…

The expression on his face changes in a way you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few seconds to process the situation and realize you need to do something. He’s misunderstanding everything! A frantic voice echoes in your head. You need to swallow your embarrassment and negative thoughts, and do this right, before he thinks you’re there for someone else! Before this turns into a communication problem that can’t be undone.

All the lunches together and the almost daily messages, even if it’s just to wish each other a good morning. All the rides he’s given you home, and how you both drag out the goodbyes just to spend one more minute together. All the sneaky glances and late-night phone conversations when he’s off work.

All the times you lay in bed and wondered if friends felt this way when they were together, or if this feeling was something more. All the times you stared at the ceiling of your room while realizing that the butterflies in your stomach were signs that what you felt was more than just friendship. All the times you wondered if the shy smiles he gave you were just for you, and if they meant something more. And the time you realized that, if you wanted to be sure, you could use Valentine’s Day in your favor.

And now here you are, watching his face change completely. His brows furrow as he looks away to a random spot on the floor beside him, and his lips break the sweet smile he always gives you. Your heart tightens seeing him like that, but it also makes your determination come back stronger.

“Greyson!” You call out louder than necessary, pushing yourself off the wall and straightening up in a sudden movement. He turns his gaze to your face, slightly startled by the sudden action. “Are you busy right now? I mean, of course, you’re always busy, you’re exceptional at everything you do, and that’s why your schedule is always exploding, but... What I want to know is if you’re too busy right now, or if we can talk for a moment?”

“Huh?” He blinks a few times, trying to process the barrage of words you just threw at him in a record time of five seconds. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck in an attempt to calm his own heart from the compliment. “Well... Actually, my schedule is completely free right now.”

“Really?! Then... Do you want to go somewhere?”

He looks at you, confused. “Didn’t you—”

“No.” You cut him off before he finishes the sentence, breaking into a smile. “Meow Cafe?”

Greyson raises an eyebrow in silent questioning but doesn’t comment on your sudden change in behavior. With a sigh, he agrees. “Sounds great. I’ll just get my things.”

“I’ll wait for you in my car then!”

He nods and turns toward his office. You stay there, your hand still hidden behind your back until he’s out of your sight. Now that you’re going out together, you decide to give him the chocolates at the cafe. It’ll be so much more romantic and perfect that way!

You’re separated for just a few minutes, but you’re so anxious that it feels like hours when the brown-haired man appears at the meeting spot, his cheeks flushed from practically running to get to you faster.

The ride to the cafe is short, filled with random topics as your mind re-plans how you’re going to confess to him. And your Plan B falls apart when you reach the destination and see the place packed, and with a huge waiting line outside. Without reservations, you both give up and try another place. And another, and another… But every place is full because of Valentine’s Day.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you park the car in some random square. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky and you both in twilight colors, and you’re on the verge of giving up on everything. Maybe everything that’s happened is a sign for you to stay quiet and say nothing. Another sigh, and you notice some movement beside you when Greyson moves in the passenger seat. You turn your face to look at him, but he just watches you cautiously for a few moments.

“Something’s bothering you, and it’s been since the hospital.” His voice is low, but he says it with complete certainty. There’s no need to ask; he knows you well enough to tell when something’s wrong. You don’t respond, but the way you furrow your brows and set your lips in a straight line is enough of an answer for him. “Is it... because you didn’t find who you were looking for at the hospital? You wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s fine. I could offer to help you find him.”

“Greyson, that’s not…” You try to speak, but he places his index finger on your lips. The smile that spreads across his face is subtle, but enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes slightly, which gaze at you with that determined gleam you’ve come to love. Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you’d be able to explain yourself at this moment, so you end up giving in and staying quiet.

“However, I don’t… want that. If I can be honest… That’s not what I want at all.” The guy seems to be struggling for the right words, his cheeks growing redder with every passing second. “I know this is going to sound incredibly selfish, and it’s not fair to you, and now is definitely not the best or most romantic time, but… I had everything planned to ask you out today, for a Valentine’s Day date,” he says, waiting a few seconds for you to process what he said. Your eyes widen, and your breath stops, and he laughs through his nose in a self-deprecating way. The finger that was still on your lips falls, just like his shoulders, and he pulls back a bit as he sits properly in the seat again. “What I mean is… I like you more than just as a friend, and if I can make you change your mind, I will. I know it sounds selfish, and here in the car, in some random spot in the city, it’s definitely not what I had in mind when I planned to tell you—��

You don’t let him finish; you’ve heard more than enough, more than you expected. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a chaste and quick kiss, but it’s enough to leave the guy stunned.

“Greyson…” you whisper, pulling away slowly. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, even reaching up to his ears, and he looks absolutely adorable like that. “Like I tried to tell you: it’s not what you think. Yes, I was looking for someone at the hospital, and I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him. And in the end, I did.” You turn to the back seat, grabbing the box of chocolates you had placed there while waiting for him and placing it in his hands, which are frozen in his lap. “It’s not what I had planned either, but... Happy Valentine’s Day, Greyson. I didn’t manage to make homemade chocolates, but I picked these with love, exclusively for you, because I like you more than just a friend too.”

He alternates between looking at the chocolate and at you a few times, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he tries to remember what words are and how to say them to you.

“I... feel a little stupid now…” He finally says, furrowing his brow and pouting adorably.

“Well, to be fair, this would’ve been solved if we’d talked, and I think we were both waiting for the right and perfect moment. But sometimes, things happen at the most random and unplanned moments.”

Greyson keeps his confused frown, and you laugh softly, the melodious sound quickening his heartbeat while also calming him in a whirlwind of emotions. The only certainties at the moment are that he needs to hear you laugh more, see you smile more, and definitely kiss you more.

Holding the chocolate in one hand, he reaches out with the other, resting it gently on your neck. His thumb gently caresses your cheek, and he takes a deep breath before leaning in, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. He dares to ask to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking permission, and you sigh as you give in. In a cliché rom-com moment, you feel an electric current run through your body, warming you from the inside out. Your hand moves to his hair at the nape of his neck, tangling and gently stroking it, and he can’t help but smile during the kiss.

The butterflies don’t just flutter aimlessly, they twirl and dance in your stomachs, but the sensation is wonderful. You both feel that it’s right, that this is what you’ve always wanted.

And as the night slowly falls, you kiss each other again and again and again…

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#happy valentine's day!#lads fanfics #lads writings #lads greyson #lads #lads greyson x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader

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toasttt11 · 3 days ago

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finally

summary: taking months to even ask her for a date and than weeks before their first day which was on valentine’s day

gabe perreault x reader

The first day of Gabe’s English class his sophomore year he looked over and saw a girl sitting there and his breath got caught and his cheeks were immediately turning bright red.

It took weeks for Gabe to even say more than few words with out stuttering or blushing, luckily for Gabe none of his teammates were in the class to see his crush on the girl.

A few more weeks getting close to the end of the first semester they started talking more and more before Gabe finally asked her for her number but he didn’t have enough courage to ask her out for a date before the semester ended.

Gabe got lucky when he came back for the second semester in a new class and saw her also there and he immediately crossed the room and sat next to her.

He finally had the courage to ask her on a date in the middle of January and she said yes smiling at his red cheeks but unfortunately they are both college athletes and don’t have a lot of spare time to go on a date.

Until Valentine’s day, they both had the night off so Gabe quickly planned the date he has been waiting to make and now he’s waiting outside her dorm room with a bouquet of her favorite flowers.

“Gabe.” She smiled as she opened the door and Gabe’s jaw dropped slightly seeing how adorable she looked in a white sweater with red hearts and her hair was curled softly and her lips were painted with a light red and he wanted that color left on his lips cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” Gabe smiled softly and he knew he was blushing especially when her smile turned slightly teasing.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” She smiled as he handed her the flowers and she quickly set them in the dorm before linking arms with Gabe and heading to his car.

Gabe opened the door for her letting her get in and he started the drive.

“Where are we going?” She asked resting her chin on her hand watching Gabe with a fond glaze, she waited months till he was comfortable enough to ask her out and has been looking forward to their first date.

“It’s a surprise.” Gabe glanced at her and quickly glanced away seeing her look at him and he quickly shut his eyes feeling his cheeks warming again.

She hummed softly but accepted his answer.

Gabe parked the car and opened the door for her and she gasped seeing where they are, “Pottery?” She looked touched.

She had told Gabe when they first became friends she had always wanted to do pottery.

Gabe sweetly smiled, “You said you always wanted to take a class.” Gabe just shrugged nonchalantly.

She smiled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek leaving a light mark from her lipstick, “Come on!” She grabbed his hand pulling him into the store.

Gabe helped her put the apron on before they sat down next to each other and he was more distracted watching her do everything perfectly and was barley patting attention to his own pottery he was supposed to he doing.

She looked up from hers and saw Gabe just looking at her softly and she saw his pottery barely touched, “Here.” She reached over setting her hands over his hands and made him look at his own pottery.

Gabe swallowed dryly with her close she is and her hands over his hands.

“Did you listen to anything i just said?” She looked up seeing Gabe not paying attention at all and smiled amused.

“Sorry.” Gabe sheepishly mumbled and she just smiled and leaned closer to him.

She watched his eyes stayed stuck on her lips and she let out a small laugh and leaned closer and finally did the thing Gabe has waited for, she kissed him.

Gabe happily kissed back and whined when she pulled away.

“Are you going to play attention now?” She asked teasingly.

“Probably not.” Gabe answered honestly she was what he wanted to look at.

#toast’s valentines blurbs 💕#gabe perreault #gabe perreault blurbs #gabe perreault imagines #gabe perreault x reader #gp34 #nhl blurbs #nhl blurb #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl x reader #nhl fluff #nhl imagine

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ripdragonbeans · 2 days ago

Text

Love In The Darkest Of Places // modern!Aemond x Reader

Chapter 9: Healing is a Process

Summary: Focusing on bringing Alys down, you and Aemond get caught up in the rush of it all, causing you two to burn out. What better way to help that than therapy?

A/N: Love my @exitpursuedbyavulcan lol

Masterlist

Chapter 8 // Chapter 10

Curled up next to Aemond, you gently played with his beautiful long hair as you both faced the computer monitor. Every time either of you looked at Aemond’s draft to the head of the university, you would freeze. Both of you wanted Alys out of your lives, out of the university, so why were you hesitating?

“We should gather more evidence if we can,” you offered. “Maybe find some of the other guys she's gone after?”

Aemond shook his head. “I doubt any of them would want to call her out. They probably didn't even realize she was manipulating them. I didn't see it until I talked to you.” He sighed. “She's good at this game.”

“Are you going to send the report anonymously?” It was the first time you asked him.

“I'll send the report anonymously, but I'm not going to erase my name from the texts. They need to see every step she does, including calling me by my name.” He took a breath. “But if you want me to go completely anonymous, I will, and I understand. I don’t mind pulling myself through the mud, but I don’t want you to get dragged as well.”

You moved to sit in Aemond’s lap and faced him. Holding his gaze, you told him, “I am never leaving you again. You go through hell, I go through hell. Together forever.”

He nodded. “Okay, then. I'm not going to hide.”

Moving off his lap, you stayed close and watched as he began typing vigorously.

To whom it may concern, he typed. I write to you to inform you that one of your staff members, Professor Alys Rivers, has engaged in inappropriate conduct with students. Attached to this email are screenshots of conversations between her and me, Aemond Targaryen.

I trust that appropriate action will be taken in this matter, and I am happy to cooperate with any further investigation you require.

Sincerely,

Aemond Targaryen

Taking a big breath, Aemond sent the email. When he looked to you, you gave him a reassuring smile, took his hand, brought it up to your lips, and gently kissed the back of it.

“I'm so proud of you,” you whispered. “She will not get away with this, not anymore.” As you looked at him, you noticed how exhausted he looked. You knew it must have taken a lot out of him. It was one thing to admit all that has happened to you, but to go public with it is another story. “Come on,” you tugged on his hand as you stood up. “Let's go somewhere.”

As you pulled up to the building and got out of the car you gave Aemond a small smile.

“The library?” He asked.

“You always feel better after you've been to the library,” you shrugged. “So I figured why not take a quick trip.”

Aemond pulled you into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

When you broke away from the hug, you took his hand and pulled him over to the library, not that he needed any goading; you just enjoyed pulling him around sometimes. As you entered the library the smell of books immediately surrounded you. It was a warm and cozy feeling. Hand in hand, you wandered the isles of many books until you each found a few to borrow for the month. Before checking out, however, you found yourself in a cozy alcove upstairs where the two of you could begin reading one of your books.

The quietness of the library was a welcome reprieve from the loud noise going on in your head and you figured it was the same with Aemond. With so much going on in life it was important to you that you and Aemond both find ways to settle all that noise and take a breather every now and then.

You closed your book, a good fourth in already. “Ready to head out?” you whispered to Aemond.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he closed his book. When he stood up from the very pillowed chair he stretched his arms high, revealing a little bit of skin as he did so.

You smiled seeing that little glimpse of his stomach. Instead of being a menace, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Pressing your face against his body, you inhaled his scent and took the moment in. For the first time in a while, you and Aemond were at peace.

Aemond wrapped his arms around you. He tilted your head up by lifting your chin and pressed his forehead against yours. “This is nice,” he said quietly.

You murmured your agreement.

Within the peace and quiet of the library, you and Aemond were both able to find yourselves again and plant your feet well into the ground again.

“How do you feel about therapy?” you asked him the next day. It had been on your mind for a while, and you thought it would be good for both of you. You fixed your breakfast as you waited for his answer.

“Like talking to someone about everything?” Aemond paused. “It's crossed my mind a few times, yeah.”

Crossing across to the couch, you sat down next to him. “I think it would be a good idea,” you offered. “Maybe couples counseling, too.”

Aemond turned to you quickly. “Do you think we need help? I can do better. We can work it out.” His eye widened in horror.

“No, Aemond, we're okay,” you reassured him, then shrugged. “I just think it would be healthy for us, especially after all that's happened.”

“I think therapy is a good idea,” he said after a while. “I still haven't fully comprehended everything that's happened and,” Aemond sighed, “I want to feel better. I want to be better, for you and for me.”

“Then let's do it.” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek. “Couples therapy it is. Do you want to go on your own, too?”

“I think I will. It'll probably be for the best.”

You smiled. “I agree.” Wrapping your arms around him, you held Aemond close to you—close to your heart. You would never let him go, not anymore, and you would never let someone make him feel so inferior ever again.

The waiting room in the therapy center was painted a dull brown, creating a neutral-esque environment. It was all brown. Different shades of brown. The chairs and benches, however, weren’t brown; they were black. It was a very boring sitting room, you thought, but it was better than being overstimulating.

As you sat with Aemond, you noticed he was bouncing his leg. “Nervous?”

Aemond continued to bounce his leg. “On edge, I would say.”

On this day, Aemond donned his usual eye patch and pulled his hair up in a bun. He was dressed casually, but being Aemond, he looked like he had an important interview to attend.

You placed a hand on his knee. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

You looked around. There was no one else in the waiting room, and granted, it was later in the day as well. After a few minutes of silence, a door opened, and a man called out your name and Aemond’s. As you two stood up, Aemond nervously wiped his hands on his pants. Instinctively, you reached out and took his hand.

“We'll be right over here,” said the man you assumed to be the therapist. “Sit anywhere you like, and please make yourselves comfortable.” He smiled warmly before going behind his desk. “Hello, I will be your therapist, Dr. Simon Strong. A lot goes into this, so let's start at the very beginning. How did you two meet?”

Aemond, hesitant, didn't say anything, so you took it upon yourself to begin the conversation.

“We met when we were children. Our mothers were, emphasis on “were,” close, and when they drifted apart, we stayed friends. We were neighbors, actually.”

“And how did that help build your relationship?” Dr. Strong asked.

“It brought us closer together,” you shrugged.

“She was my only friend,” Aemond said carefully. “She would visit a lot and wasn't scared of my brother or off-put by my sister, like some other people who had tried to be friends with me.”

Dr. Strong raised his eyebrows. “Your only friend?”

Aemond shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I didn't have many friends growing up; it was more of just her and my siblings.” He looked at you. “But she's the best person that's ever walked into my life, and for that, I'm grateful.”

The therapist nodded. “Now, I would like you two to tell me why you want to do couple's therapy.”

You answered without hesitation. “We want to have a healthy relationship.”

“I had an …issue with a past relationship, and I don't want that again,” Aemond added.

Dr. Simon Strong leaned forward with interest. “Ah. We’ll get that later. Here is my question: has your relationship always been romantic?

You shook your head and laughed, “No, it was never like that. We were children; we didn’t know what love was. We knew we cared about each other, but that was it.” You tried to push away some of your very first feelings for him.

“I think I was always in love with you,” whispered Aemond.

“Aemond…” you paused to take a breath. “Now that I think about it, I think I was always in love with you, too.” You turned to Dr. Strong. “I think we both fell in love early on but didn’t quite know what it was,” you cleared up.

“That’s fair. Many do not understand the deep and abstract concept of love outside of caring for others when they are young children.”

“All I knew then is that I cared about her. There wasn’t exactly any love between my mother and father,” Aemond said. “I had no real example of what love was supposed to look like.”

“And there is no one-fits-all all when it comes to love,” Dr. Strong added. “Every couple looks different. What matters is that both parties are happy and healthy. Are there any moments in your history as children that stick out to you?”

“When I was sick once he brought me soup,” you offered. “It wasn’t much, it was very simple, but I remember feeling cared for.”

Aemond cocked his head to the side. “I remember that. You were running a high fever and were suffering from body chills.” He looked at you. “I knew even then I wanted to take care of you. I didn’t like it when you got sick or hurt, but I’m glad you always came to us when something happened.”

“It wasn’t like I could go to my mother or father,” you scoffed. Turning to Dr. Strong, you explained to him, “My family was never the most supportive of me. I know for a fact they never wanted me, and they weren’t eager to hide it.”

“That must have been very traumatic for you,” Dr. Strong replied.

You shrugged. “It’s something I grew up with. It’s more like background noise at this point.”

“It still follows you?”

“I guess it kinda hangs over me.”

“I see…” Dr. Strong scribbled something down. “What about you, Aemond? How is your relationship with your family?”

“My birth dad is nonexistent. I don’t want him around. My mother and my siblings care about me, and I care about them. I know there is love and support between us all.”

Dr. Strong addressed both you and Aemond with his next question. “Have either of you had previous relationships?”

Silence enveloped the room.

“Not me,” you said, breaking the silence. Well, Aemond thought I was in a relationship with someone else, but I wasn’t.”

Dr. Strong straightened his back. “Oh?”

“It was this double date she and I were practically forced into when we were in high school,” Aemond explained. “We didn’t go on the double date as a couple but as a part of the other’s date. It was a mess. I got jealous, and I tried to make her jealous and it ended up with both of us getting hurt.”

“Has that event shaped how you two are now as a couple?”

“Not that one specifically, but…” you trailed off to let Aemond bring her up. She had to be talked about. She was the elephant in the room.

“My professor. One of my university professors coerced me into a relationship with her,” said Aemond. His face had gone blank and devoid of emotion.

“Was there anything that led you to be in a relationship with this person? From what you have told me, the two of you are very close.”

You hesitated. “I told him I couldn’t be with him. We kissed, a heat of the moment thing, and I freaked out and ran away and told him I couldn’t let myself be with him.”

“And how did that make you feel, Aemond?”

“I was… heartbroken, I guess. I didn’t know what to do.”

“And how did this professor coerce you into a relationship?”

“She flirted with me. A lot, actually.”

Hearing this made your blood boil but you kept your anger and jealousy down to let Aemond tell his story.

“She would call me to her office, and we would talk. She would make leading comments and ask questions bordering on inappropriate. At first, I hated it, but then I started to want that; that feeling of someone wanting me.”

Your heart dropped as though it was attached to a rock and then thrown into a lake to drown.

“The day she kissed me…I felt wanted, and that’s what I was looking for, what I so desperately needed.” Aemond turned to you. “I never initiated any of our intimate moments, including kisses or hugs. Everything was started by her.” He turned back to Dr. Strong. “I was just going through the motions. There was maybe a time I felt like I actually cared for her; I did care for her in a way, but not in the way I care about my…” he trailed off and looked back at you. “You. I never cared for her the same way I care for you. Alys was all physical, not even always wanted. I let her do whatever to me just so I could feel like I was wanted by someone.”

Tears were streaming down your face. “Oh, Aemond, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged off the apology. “It was my choice to follow her and I regret it every day.”

“Well,” Dr. Strong started, “that is certainly a lot to hop into.” He made sure to look at both of you. “You did really well, you both did. You should be proud of yourselves for opening up not just to me, but to each other. I can tell you two care about each other a lot and want this to work. That’s good.”

“Do you have any suggestions for us as a couple?” you asked.

“As a couple, not really. I do encourage you to continue talking openly with each other. That does wonders in a relationship. Communication is key. Individually,” Dr. Strong looked at you, “you should try reaching out to your family, maybe they’ve grown, maybe not. If you would not like to reach out to them, that is up to you, but I think you may find some closure. As for you, Aemond,” he turned to face him, “I would consider a companion to have around when your significant other is unable to be with you. A dog, perhaps? A cat is easy to take care of, not a fish, someone you could find comfort in when things are too hard. Both of you taking care of an animal would be beneficial to you as a couple as well.”

The two of you nodded.

As the session went on, Aemond talked about Alys and their relationship and how it has formed who he was now. Hearing him talk about her made you uncomfortable but hearing how uncomfortable she made him made you mad.You thought back to the first time Aemond had told you about Alys and when you had caught them in the hallway. It was her that initiated it; not him. It made you feel better, in a way, but you were still not a fan of it. But then he had seemed so…besotted with her. Knowing now that it had been more infatuation and physical than anything helped how you felt about the whole situation. However, it had you wondering about the dinner you had with them as well. Aemond seemed so out of it and now you knew why.

During the session, you touched on your family a bit more and how they treated you and how that shaped who you were now. It was…difficult to talk about them. When you had your last conversation with Jace you thought that would be the last of it. That may not be the case anymore.

Aemond began speaking. “There… there is one other thing I’d like to talk about before leaving: my eye.”

“Ah, yes, I was wondering if you were going to bring it up. What would you like to say about it.”

“I won’t give all the gruesome details, but if anyone’s ever been there for me, it’s her.” Aemond reached out and grabbed your hand. “She was the one who gave me the sapphire in my eye, actually.”

“I have a matching necklace,” you added.

“If it weren’t for her always being there for me, I honestly don’t know where I would be now. I can’t imagine my life without her.”

You squeezed Aemond’s hand and looked at him. “I don’t know where I’d be, either, Aemond.”

When you and Aemond finally broke your gaze and looked back at Dr. Simon Strong, you found him smiling at the pair of you. “You two will do well in therapy. You have already done a good job of communicating and this is only the first session. We’ll see you in a week? I normally see my patients every week and then we slowly start to add more and more time in between sessions.”

“Yeah, in a week is good,” you said.

“Wonderful,” Dr. Simon Strong smiled at you. “Now it is time for Aemond’s session by himself. You can wait in the waiting room.”

“Thank you again, Dr. Strong,” you shook his hand and then turned to give Aemond a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room.

The drive back to Aemond’s apartment after the therapy sessions that day was quiet, but in a good way. Both of you have been carrying baggage and now that it was all out in the open the air felt cleaner. You glanced at Aemond through your peripheral vision and smiled. He was gazing out the window.

“Everything all right?” you asked him.

Your question apparently startled him. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“We did a lot today. I’m proud of us but I’m mostly proud of you, Aemond.”

He let out a breath that sounded like a chuckle. “I’m glad I can make you proud, my dear.”

“Oh? Have we graduated to pet names now?” You said with a joking edge knowing that using pet names and nicknames were a bit of a sore spot for him after her.

Aemond took a beat. “Yeah, I think we have.” He moved a hand onto your thigh and gave it a squeeze. “I’m honored to have you as mine, my love.”

If you could have, you would have pulled over to the side of the road and kissed him right then and there, but you couldn’t. Instead, without taking your eyes off the road, you brought his hand to your lips and gently brushed them against his knuckle. “As am I.”

Despite living with Helaena, you found yourself spending more and more time with Aemond. A few days later, you found yourself curled against Aemond’s body in bed. While you were awake, Aemond was softly snoring, still asleep. His arm was draped around you and held you close, your back pressed against his stomach. You turned to look at him and take in his beauty. With his eyepatch discarded on the bedside table, his sapphire shined in the morning light. His long hair was sprawled out on his pillow as his head was turned towards you, as though the last thing he saw before falling asleep was you. Smiling to yourself, you basked in the moment. It was peaceful.

After a few minutes of beautiful silence, you gently roused Aemond from his sleep. “Wake up, my dear.”

Aemond mumbled something and simply pulled you closer, burying his

“Aemond,” you groaned, “it's time to get up.”

“It’s too early.”

“No, it's not. Come on, let's get going.”

“Fine,” said Aemond, dragging out the word.

You finally shimmied out of his grasp and sat up in bed. Gently pulling up Aemond to a sitting position, you laughed as he pretended to resist you. Once you got him sitting up, he immediately fell on top of you, completely limp.

“Help, I've fallen and I can't get up,” he said half heartedly.

You had to wiggle him off of you to be able to get off the bed. When you were able to actually get up, Aemond relented and did so as well. With his hair all messy, he muttered something about being tired then flipped his hair out of his face. Lumbering over to his closet he pulled out his clothes for the day. You watched him as he changed, unmoved from your spot in the room. As if he felt your eyes on him he turned around.

“Like what you see?” he playfully asked.

You took a few steps closer to him. “Of course I do, my love.”

Aemond hummed contently as you hugged him. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “It’s time for you to change out of your pajamas as well.”

“What? You don’t like my shorts paired with one of your shirts?” you teased.

“Honestly, I love it, but where we’re going may require a change of clothes,” Aemond said.

With his words, you remembered the goal of the day. You were going to begin the process of adopting a dog.

#fics by bean #aemond one eye #hotd modern au #hotd fancifc #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #modern au #modern!aemond

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middle-ans · 2 days ago

Note

For the valentines prompts: maybe a 2010 social media one

Aesthetics got me baad, whoah dearest, what a time it was back in 2010s social media! Thank you for the request, and Happy Valentine’s Day to you! A very unusual style for me but I hope it will do with this setting!

Cheeky Mercedes F1 driver Lewis & YouTuber, streamer, DIY nerd George - 2010s

Valentine’s story card requests

George’s bedroom is bathed in the warm glow of a desk lamp, its light bouncing off a collage of F1 memorabilia: a faded 2013 Mercedes cap, a signed Lewis Hamilton photo (won in a fan giveaway), and a shelf crammed with model cars. His Logitech webcam flickers briefly as he adjusts it, the chat already buzzing with familiar usernames like SilverWarrior44, BritRacingFan, and DRS4Breakfast. The grainy video feed captures George’s sheepish grin as he holds up a cereal box and a roll of duct tape.

GeorgeRussell19: “Alright, troops! Tonight’s mission: turning this sad Cornflakes box into a glorious Mercedes W06 Hybrid. Or, y’know… a silver pancake with wheels. Let’s see how this goes.”

Chat floods with 💀🚗💨 emojis. Vettel4Ever types: George ur a madman. He laughs, snipping the cardboard into a rough car shape.

GeorgeRussell19: “First step: the chassis. Gotta make it aerodynamic. Or… cardboard-dynamic.”

He holds up the lopsided base, and RosbergsSideburns donates £3 with: If it’s slower than Nico’s car we riot. George mock-gasps.

GeorgeRussell19: “Nico’s sideburns are in my chat? Welcome, mate. Tell Lewis I said hi.”

SilverWarrior44: GEORGE MAKE IT PURPLE FOR LEWIS’ HELMET

DRS4Breakfast: Will it have DRS???

GeorgeRussell19: (laughing) “DRS? Mate, if I figure out how to make moving aerodynamics with a Pringles lid, I’m applying to Mercedes engineering. But purple accents? Absolutely.”

He starts layering tin foil over the cardboard, narrating each step with cheerful precision.

As he paints the car silver, a viewer named HamFam4Life donates £5 with the message: “GEORGE VALENTINE’S PLANS?? U SINGLE??”

George freezes, brush hovering. His ears go pink.

GeorgeRussell19: “Uh. Valentine’s? Pfft, I’ll be here… making more cardboard cars? Maybe eating discount heart-shaped chocolates?”

Chat erupts.

Bwoahhhhhh spams: GEORGE LEWIS DOUBLE DATE WHEN. PirelliPasta adds: U TWO SINGLE PRINCES 👑👑.

GeorgeRussell19: (laughing nervously) “C’mon, guys, Lewis is Lewis. He’s busy winning titles. I’m just… some nerd with a glue gun.”

SilverWarrior44: But ur a CUTE nerd

BritRacingFan: Tell us ur type!!

George scratches his neck, avoiding the camera.

GeorgeRussell19: “I don’t know? Someone who… likes racing? And doesn’t mind me ranting about tire deg over dinner?”

The chat coos. DRS4Breakfast prods: Ever gotten a Valentine tho? George freezes, then sighs dramatically.

GeorgeRussell19: “Okay, full disclosure: No. Not even in school. Once, in Year 7, Jamie Fletcher ‘accidentally’ put a card in my locker. Turns out it was for Grace Russell. Two desks over. So… yeah. Romance isn’t my Pirelli compound.”

Chat erupts in a mix of 😭💔 and 😂. Vettel4Ever writes: We’ll b ur Valentines!!.

GeorgeRussell19: (softly) “Cheers, guys. Honestly, you lot are the best part of my week.”

The car-building spirals into chaos. The “halo” (made of pipe cleaners) droops, the “DRS” (a flappy piece of plastic) snaps off, and George accidentally glues his finger to the chassis.

GeorgeRussell19: (panicking) “Why is the hot glue ALWAYS hotter than the sun?! This is a safety hazard!”

He finally pries free, holding up the car - a lumpy silver mess with a crooked #44 Sharpie’d on the side.

RosbergsSideburns: 10/10 would race in Monaco

PirelliPasta: Mercedes interns taking NOTES RN

GeorgeRussell19: (grinning) “I’ll send it to Brackley. ‘Dear Toto, pls hire me. I can make cars… ish.’”

As the stream wraps up, HamiltonsHalo donates £10 with: LEWIS IS SINGLE AND LONELY TOO JUST SAYIN. George buries his face in his hands.

GeorgeRussell19: “You’re all relentless. Lewis is probably sipping coconut water in Monaco, not watching my janky stream.”

Bwoahhhhhh: UR HIS TYPE!! HE LIKES BRITISH AND TRICKY

DRS4Breakfast: GEORGE LEWIS COLLAB STREAM VALENTINE’S DAY????

George’s ears burn crimson, but he smiles.

GeorgeRussell19: “If that ever happens, I’ll… I’ll eat this cardboard car on stream. Anyway, Happy Early Valentine’s, you legends. Thanks for being here.”

He ends the stream, the camera freezing on a fan-art banner sent by SilverWarrior44: George and Lewis as Disney princes riding a glittery F1 car. The outro plays - a pixelated “Subscribe!” graphic over a royalty-free dubstep remix of We Found Love.

[Stream ended: 10:45 p.m. | 3,112 viewers]

[February 12, 2015 | George’s Flat, King’s Lynn]

George had just finished filming an “unboxing haul” for his DIY series - a stack of foam boards, spray paint cans, and a suspiciously cheap “aerodynamics kit” from eBay. The camera was off, his living room littered with half-opened packages, when the doorbell rang.

Delivery Man: (through the door) “Special delivery for Mr. George Russell? Needs a signature.”

George frowned. He wasn’t expecting anything else. He opened the door to a courier holding a heart-shaped box wrapped in glossy red paper, dotted with tiny silver F1 decals.

George: “Uh… this isn’t mine. Must be a mix-up?”

Delivery Man: (smirking) “Nah, mate. Instructions said to hand it directly to you. ‘No cameras, no exceptions.’”

George’s pulse spiked. He signed the clipboard, cradling the box like it might explode.

The box sat on his coffee table, taunting him. He peeled back the paper, revealing a custom Mercedes-AMG Petronas logo stamped on the lid. Inside, nestled in crimson tissue paper:

A miniature W06 Hybrid model car - but not just any model. The underside read, “Lewis Hamilton, Australian GP 2015 - Race Used.”

A pair of white racing gloves, scuffed with faint tire marks, tucked in a clear sleeve labeled “LH Archive.”

A stack of handmade valentines: Red cardstock cut into heart shapes, each scribbled in black Sharpie.

George’s hands shook as he unfolded the note at the bottom.

George -

Caught your stream. That cardboard car’s got better vibes than my quali setup in Monaco. (Don’t tell Toto I said that.)

Heard you’ve never had a proper Valentine. Let me be your first. These gloves kept me podium-bound - hope they bring you better luck than my 2012 McLaren.

Slide into my DMs. No pressure. Unless you ghost me… then I’ll send Nico to your doorstep.

- LH

P.S. The model car’s 1:18 scale. For… research. 😉

George’s face burned. He fumbled for his phone, pulling up Instagram. Lewis’s DM button glared at him like a dare.

George’s Message:

@ GeorgeRussell19: Hi. Uh. This is George. Not sure if you’re hacked or… but the gloves? And the valentines? I’m freaking out a bit. In a good way. Maybe?

He hit send, then immediately tossed his phone onto the sofa like it was radioactive.

Buzz.

@ LewisHamilton: Not hacked. Unless someone hacked my heart rate. You okay?

@ GeorgeRussell19: WAIT. YOU’RE REAL.

@ LewisHamilton: Last time I checked. You stream in your room with a Pokémon poster above your desk. Squirtle squad, right?

@ GeorgeRussell19: …Are you stalking me.

@ LewisHamilton: Call it “race research.” You’re funny, mate. And smart. Saw your video on tire temp strategies. Better than Sky Sports.

@ LewisHamilton: Also, the valentines? Wrote those in the motorhome. Don’t let Seb see - he’ll never let me live it down.

George stared at the screen, grinning so hard his cheeks ached.

@ GeorgeRussell19: Why me?

@ LewisHamilton: Why not? You’re the only person who’d build a car out of cereal boxes for fun. That’s… cool. Plus, you blush like a rookie on pole.

@ GeorgeRussell19: I’M NOT BLUSHING.

@ LewisHamilton: Liar. 😊

Later That Night

George sat cross-legged on the floor, the gloves and valentines spread around him. He’d pinned one heart to his wall:

“George -

If DRS = Drag Reduction System,

Then U = Distraction Reduction System.

- LH”

His phone buzzed again.

@ LewisHamilton: Prepping for Barcelona tests. But… wanna meet up after? No cameras. No cardboard cars. Just us.

George’s thumbs hovered. For once, the witty, nervous, overthinking streamer had no words.

@ GeorgeRussell19: Yes.

[YouTube Video: “UNBOXING LEWIS HAMILTON’S VALENTINE’S GIFT?? 😱💌” | Uploaded: February 14, 2015]

George’s camera wobbles as he adjusts it, his face flushed even before the video starts. The thumbnail shows the heart-shaped box front-and-center, with bold text: “I’M SCREAMING.”

GeorgeRussell19: (voice shaky) “Okay. Um. So. You know how I said I’d never gotten a Valentine? Someone decided to… fix that.”

He opens the box slowly, revealing the gloves, model car, and handwritten valentines. The chat floods with caps-lock chaos:

SilverWarrior44: LEWIS????? LEWIS HAMILTON???

DRS4Breakfast: THIS IS NOT A DRILL HE’S IN LOVE

PirelliPasta: GEORGE WE NEED A WEDDING VLOG

GeorgeRussell19: (laughing nervously) “Guys, stop - it’s just a gift! He’s being… nice. Probably a PR thing. Or, or a dare. Maybe Nico put him up to it?”

He holds up the valentine with the “Distraction Reduction System” line, his ears turning scarlet.

GeorgeRussell19: “I mean, it’s Lewis. He’s got better things to do than… this. Right? Right?”

The video ends with George staring at the camera, wide-eyed, as he whispers:

“Pray for me.”

[February 20, 2015 | A Quiet Café in London]

George arrived early. He’d chosen a corner booth, hidden from the window, and ordered a tea he didn’t touch. His knee bounced under the table.

Then the bell chimed.

Lewis walked in, sunglasses tucked into his collar, wearing a navy hoodie and a grin that could melt Pirelli’s hard compounds. Their eyes met - George’s breath hitched - and Lewis sauntered over, all easy confidence.

Lewis: “Hey, Cardboard Engineer.”

George: (choking) “H-hi.”

Lewis slid into the seat beside him, not across, their shoulders brushing. He smelled like cedar and espresso.

Lewis: “You look shorter off-camera.”

George: “You look… real.”

Lewis laughed, warm and low, and George’s stomach flipped.

Lewis: “The gloves fit you yet?”

George: “I’m scared to touch them. What if I ruin the magic?”

Lewis tilted his head, studying him. George felt like a spec sheet under that gaze - every flaw analyzed, every detail noticed.

Lewis: “Magic’s overrated. I’d rather see you in ’em.”

A pause. George’s heart thundered.

Lewis: (softer) “Thanks for coming.”

George: “Thanks for… existing, I guess?”

Lewis snorted, then reached out, tucking a stray curl behind George’s ear. His thumb grazed George’s cheekbone.

Lewis: “Relax, yeah? I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

George’s brain short-circuited.

Then Lewis leaned in, slow and deliberate, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His lips lingered, warm against George’s burning skin.

Lewis: (whispering) “There. Your first proper Valentine.”

When he pulled back, George’s hand flew to the spot, as if he could fossilize the touch.

George: “I- I might need a second. For… comparison.”

Lewis smirked, eyes crinkling.

Lewis: “Patience, mate. We’ve got laps to go.”

[YouTube Live Stream: “Valentine’s DIY Special 🏎️💘… and CHAOS?!” | February 14, 2016 | 7:30 p.m.]

George’s new London flat is sleek but cozy - a far cry from his 2015 bedroom. A framed photo of the Mercedes W06 Hybrid hangs beside a neon "RACE TO WIN" sign. His webcam is HD now, but the chat still floods with familiar names: SilverWarrior44, PirelliPasta, and DRS4Breakfast. George, wearing a cherry-red hoodie, grins as he holds up a 3D-printed F1 steering wheel.

GeorgeRussell19: “Alright, gang! Tonight’s project: converting this steering wheel into a functional sim rig controller. Or, y’know, a very expensive paperweight. Let’s get-”

A door creaks off-camera. George’s eyes dart sideways, then widen.

Lewis: (muffled, in the distance) “Babe, have you seen my-”

George freezes. The chat pauses - then explodes.

Hammer1990: ??? WAS THAT A SHIRTLESS MAN

SilverWarrior44: LEWIS????? LEWIS HAMILTON’S VOICE????

PirelliPasta: GEORGE U HAVE A ROOMMATE????

GeorgeRussell19: (forced laugh) “Uh, no, that’s just… my neighbor’s dog! Barks weird, right? Anyway, let’s solder these wires-”

Lewis strolls into frame wearing nothing but black boxers, toweling his hair, humming We Found Love. He stops mid-step, spotting the camera.

Lewis: “Oh. Shit.”

George slaps both hands over his face, screaming into his palms.

GeorgeRussell19: “LEWIS. WHY. IT’S LIVE. IT’S LIVE.”

Lewis: (grinning) “Relax, they’ve seen worse. Hi, chat!” He waves before ducking out of frame.

Chat detonates:

DRS4Breakfast: I SCREENSHOTTED IT I SCREENSHOTTED IT

Ferrarry: LEWIS WAS IN HIS UNDIES IN GEORGE’S FLAT

SilverWarrior44: VALENTINE’S DAY STREAM DELIVERED 💀💘

GeorgeRussell19: (peeking through his fingers) “I’m dead. You’ve killed me. I’m a ghost now. Ghost content from beyond the grave.”

Lewis’s laughter echoes off-camera.

Lewis: “C’mon, it’s 2016! People love… authenticity!”

GeorgeRussell19: (to chat) “Don’t listen to him. This never happened. You’re hallucinating. I’m hallucinating.”

He grabs the steering wheel, hands trembling as he fumbles with a screwdriver. The chat scrolls too fast to read - thousands of “OMG” and “SHIP CONFIRMED” messages. PirelliPasta donates £20 with the message: GEORGE LEWIS COLLAB STREAM WHEN??.

GeorgeRussell19: (defeated) “Okay, fine. Yes. Lewis is here. No, we’re not—I mean, he’s just… visiting. For the winter break. As friends.”

Lewis: (yelling from another room) “Friends who share a bed!”

GeorgeRussell19: (standing up, face crimson) “I’M ENDING THE STREAM.”

Chat pleads: NOOOO and LEWIS COME BACK.

GeorgeRussell19: “Happy Valentine’s, you lot. Pray for my dignity.”

He reaches to end the stream - but not before Lewis’s tattooed arm snakes into frame, dropping a heart-shaped chocolate on his desk.

Lewis: “For the chat. Since you’re my Valentine’s too.”

George faceplants onto the keyboard as the stream cuts.

[Stream ended: 7:52 p.m. | 15,328 viewers]

George spins in his desk chair, glaring at Lewis, who’s now smugly wearing sweatpants.

George: “You did that on purpose.”

Lewis: “Maybe.” He kisses George’s pout away, laughing. “Think they bought the ‘friends’ bit?”

George: “No. Reddit’s probably writing our wedding vows already.”

Lewis: (grinning) “Good. Saves me time.”

#valentine’s story cards #gewis fic #gewis #george russell #lewis hamilton #f1

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fall0utmind · 1 day ago

Text

Epilogue

Hi guys - it's here

we are done - thank you so much for all the support you have given me - it's invaluable

ao3 here!!

Feedback would be much appreciated - alt ending coming soon

Love you all - Aoif

*6 months later*

It’s cold in Italy; it's unseasonably frosty but dry, at least. Marc steadies himself on the driveway, taking some deep breaths from behind the wheel. He refused a lift from the airport, choosing instead a hire car to ensure a quick escape if it’s needed. Now he’s sitting in the car, trying not to have a panic attack.

He stares up at the imposing building in front of him. The ranch house sits proudly at the edge of the property– all brick and wood with big windows which probably spill the light in during summer. It has changed, from ten years ago. Marc doesn’t know why that shocks him. His hands are shaking.

He cannot fathom what he’s doing here, in Tavullia on a random Monday in January. In a few weeks, he’ll be at the Ducati factory, filming and testing as their newest rider. He thinks he might be insane.

Valentino must have heard him pulling in, the loose scattering of gravel crunching under the wheels. Marc can see movement inside; his heart is beating out of his chest.

Things between him and Vale have been better, since Aragon. It has taken a lot of awkward conversation and a couple of fuck ups to even get to this stage. Marc’s slowly been getting used to the boys, whilst keeping Vale far away from his family (who still haven’t come around). They have been tentatively dating, trying to figure out how to fit into each other’s lives without implosion.

Marc has refused anything more than a couple of low-key dates on race weekends and spending time in Vale’s hotel room. Meeting on non-neutral ground feels like a big step, and now Marc is here, back where it all went so wrong the first time, potentially feeding himself to the lions.

He screws his eyes shut and breathes deeply. Alex will be here at the weekend. They will get through it. He steels himself to unflex his fingers from where they grip the steering wheel. His knuckles are white.

The front door to the house creeps open, Valentino emerging from behind. After all of these years, he still makes Marc slightly breathless. It has been a long time since he’s seen Valentino like this, dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, his socked feet without shoes. Marc climbs out of the car, heading around the back to grab his bag before locking the doors and shuffling forward.

Vale stands on the threshold, looking as unsure as Marc feels - his hands reach forward before pulling back. Marc decides for him, wrapping his arms around Valentino and allowing the older man to pull him in and press his lips to the crown of Marc’s head. Marc smiles into his chest. It is good to know that he is not the only one who is nervous.

When they pull apart, Marc tilts his head towards Valentino and finds soft eyes already watching him, startlingly blue in the morning light. Valentino’s lips twitch upwards as he tilts his head down to brush a kiss against Marc’s mouth.

Valentino takes Marc’s bag before he can protest, lugging it down the hall and setting it down in what Marc assumes is Valentino’s room. There is a bike sitting by the footboard, one of Vale’s. Marc’s breath hitches, the rumours were true then. The sheets look fresh, untouched. The sun filters through the large windows located adjacent to the bed. Valentino shows no signs of hesitance in welcoming Marc into his home. It makes Marc’s heart contract, beating double time at the show of familiarity and trust.

The unease slowly slips off Marc’s shoulders like satin as he relaxes into the space. It’s just the two of them for now. It’s nice, there is a settled kind of peace in the air – a contentedness rolling off both of them. Valentino tugs him around the house, giving him a tour. He never got to this point last time, only saw brief flashes of parts of the house back in 2014. He pushes the memory away and smiles as one of Valentino’s dogs trails curiously behind them, occasionally nudging a wet nose into the back of Marc’s knees.

He could settle here, Marc thinks. The thought catches him off guard and makes him do a double-take. He stares at the gentle slope of Valentino’s shoulders underneath his too-large t-shirt. The way he looks so soft and gentle here. Marc doesn’t realise that he’s stopped, even when he feels the soft brush of fur against his calves as the dog pushes past him. Valentino pauses, looking back over his shoulder. His face is relaxed, his eyes adoring, tinged with concern as he notices Marc has paused.

“Marc, Angelo, what’s wrong?” He says, striding back, cupping his face gently. His gaze tracks over Marc's frame, assessing for hurt or pain, his hand grazing over Marc’s arm.

Over the past 3 months, Valentino has relearned Marc’s body. It was difficult, to come to terms with the chronic pain Marc faces daily. Sometimes, Marc would shuffle into his hotel room, late after a race, his arm stiff by his side, looking dazed and in pain. Every time, Valentino would run a bath and painstakingly massage his arm and shoulder until the pain lessened, kissing away the tears which gathered in Marc’s lash line.

It has been difficult for Marc to allow himself to be looked after; he is learning though. Now, he just smiles, small and closed-lip. He kisses Vale, once, twice.

“Nothing, mi amour. I love you.” He whispers.

Valentino answers with a grin and a soft “I love you too”.

It is worth everything to Marc.

Cohabiting with someone you used to hate is odd.

They spend two days in a strange kind of domestic bliss. Their nights are spent wrapped around each other in Vale’s bed, satiated and sleepy. Valentino wakes up every morning to prepare Marc a coffee, just how he likes it, and delivers it with a sweet kiss. In the intervals between cooking or meetings, Valentino wraps his arms around Marc from behind and kisses his forehead softly.

Marc thinks he could get used to domestic bliss.

Valentino whines and complains when Marc asks to use the gym.

(“You’re supposed to be on a break”)

But he sits and watches Marc work out each time without fail, revelling in the way Marc flushes prettily when he catches Vale staring.

(Cardio usually ends up being done in the bedroom).

On Wednesday, Valentino pulls Marc towards the garage to show him the impressive bike selection he keeps. Valentino has spent years (and a lot of money) amassing his collection, including a few of his old MotoGP ones. Marc looks awed, his fingers trailing over handlebars and pausing on the bright ‘46’ of Vale’s 2005 Yamaha. Valentino watches with adoring eyes.

Marc is holding back a million questions, crouching to inspect each machine before moving on to the next. He appears at home among the bikes. Even so, Vale can tell Marc is antsy without one to ride. He desperately wants to appease Marc and show him around the track but also recognises the history here. Marc won't ask to ride, not after last time, and Valentino's pushing won’t go down well.

Valentino pretends to fiddle with a bike, tuning it up a bit, watching as Marc becomes more impatient. He hopes to time it perfectly, waiting until the last minute to ensure the younger man will agree.

“We can ride, if you’d like?” Vale asks quietly.

Marc’s answering grin is wide.

Valentino hurries to pull out the bike he’s been tuning for Marc, unable to contain his excitement. The deep red ‘93’ is already in place.

When he turns back, Marc is half undressed, always so eager. But he has stopped still at the sight of the bike. He inches forward, running his hands across the throttle, a questioning look in his eyes. Valentino laughs uncomfortably, suddenly embarrassed.

“Well, you know- you need it for the weekend. And I was hoping you might need it again a bit more regularly going forward.”

He scratches his neck awkwardly, regretting his decision to be so forward. What if Marc doesn’t want to come back, or it is too much too soon?

Marc nudges against him, drawing Valentino’s attention back to reality. The smaller man pushes onto his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Vale’s lips, effectively wiping out any other thoughts.

“Thank you”, Marc whispers. It’s so painfully honest that it hurts.

Valentino kisses him again.

He brings his hands to Marc’s waist and is momentarily distracted by the bare, warm skin he finds. Of course, Marc is still half undressed. He pulls back to look at Marc shamelessly.

There are miles of tanned skin on display, unblemished other than his arm. Marc’s been somewhere hot over the break, Valentino saw the photos on Instagram. Marc with his friends, shirtless, his built chest and abs on full display as he laughed to the camera, golden sand and the crystal ocean behind him. Valentino is not ashamed to admit that he practically salivated when he saw them. It is no different now, with Marc standing in his garage. He doesn’t think Marc’s beauty will ever get old.

Marc looks amazing like this, slightly dishevelled, glowing with happiness. Valentino wants to keep him here forever.

He kisses Marc firmly one more time and pushes him in the direction of where their leathers are hanging up side by side.

“Come on, let’s ride” He suggests, knowing that if they don’t go now, Vale will become sidetracked. Marc is all too happy to oblige.

It’s a good day to ride - clear and a little cold, but bright. Marc takes a few laps to settle into the track, evidence that it has been a long time since he was last at the ranch. Guilt churns in Vale’s stomach, maybe if he was kinder, less bitter, that would not be the case. The thought is cast aside soon enough as they’re chasing each other around the track, just like old times. The sound of laughter is loud and bright; it can be heard above the familiar two-stroke engines as they roar around the circuit.

The unbridled joy of riding is only slightly dampened by the undercurrent of fear radiating off Marc. Valentino observes the way his shoulders are slightly hunched, how he holds himself back, just a little, pulling the angle of his bike a smidge more upright than usual. Marc is scared he will fuck it up, push too hard, and send them both toppling into anger and misery once more. Valentino wants to put a stop to it.

He can practically see the memories flashing behind Marc’s eyes and he hits each apex. Vale tries to be a comforting presence, to show Marc that he’s safe. But Marc only fully relaxes when Valentino pulls him into a tight embrace after they finish their first quick laps. After that, they’re off, racing wheel to wheel like they were born to do.

Valentino quickly discovers that he no longer cares when Marc edges him across the line, content to kiss him thoroughly when they pull to stop, wiping any residue of worry off the younger man’s face.

Later, Valentino takes Marc back inside, pushing him towards the shower and grinning when Marc tugs him along too.

He has never been one to deny Marc what he wants.

He nudges the younger man into the bathroom, grabbing two of his fluffiest towels from the warmth of the airing cupboard en route.

By the time Valentino has locked the door Marc is already half out of his clothes, a pretty flush spreading from his cheeks down his chest. Valentino trails his eyes up and down Marc’s body, saliva pooling under his tongue.

He gently pushes Marc up against the marble-countered sink, the smallest hint of pressure on his hips. Valentino bends down to reach Marc’s lips, making the younger man push up into his touch.

The kiss isn’t gentle, it’s deep and wanting, yearning for more. Valentino pushes his hands under Marc’s legs as he hops to sit fully on the counter, his fingertips searing the soft skin there. In return, Marc wraps strong thighs around Valentino’s waist, grinding up to seek friction. By the time they pull apart, they are both achingly hard.

Valentino regretfully breaks away, leaving Marc panting on his countertop so he can reach into the lavish shower and turn on the taps.

He knew that the ungodly amount of money he spent on this bathroom would be beneficial one day.

Once steam has filled the room, he pulls Marc to his feet, letting the younger man strip off his underwear before pushing him into the warm spray.

Valentino watches for a moment, wondering how he got so lucky, before he too steps out of his clothes. He brackets himself in behind Marc, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist as water pours over them. Marc leans into his hold.

Valentino chases a water droplet which rolls down Marc’s neck, sucking a mark lightly onto the juncture of his shoulder as his hands trace patterns onto his hip. Marc’s head falls back, his eyes fluttering as he groans quietly.

Valentino keeps going, following the trail of the water, spinning Marc around and pushing him against the wall. He sinks to his knees, fascinated by the way Marc’s eyes screw shut, his face scrunching. Valentino spends a long time laving his tongue across Marc’s abs, admiring Marc’s reactions as he licks across the younger’s hip bones and bites. Valentino could stay here for years.

(He couldn’t, his knees already hurt)

Marc’s quads tense as Vale sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh, strong muscle bracketing Vale’s head. Marc leans his weight against the wall, slightly boneless as Valentino continues to nibble on the soft skin, sucking until there’s a line of pretty purple bruises from mid-thigh to his groin.

It’s one of Vale’s favourite things to do, leaving blemishes on Marc’s tanned skin, like blots of ink on paper. Staining Marc and making him Vale’s own, after so many years. The added bonus is that Marc is always so pliant when Valentino does it. He goes limp and far away, his eyes dazed when they’re not rolling back in his head. He is reduced to a mess of whining and pleading.

Valentino is not immune.

Marc is above him, his legs shaking and whining as Valentino mouths everywhere but his dick, which is hard against his abs. Precum smears across his stomach, washed away by the spray of warm water sluicing over them.

Valentino takes pity on him, slipping one hand around his thigh and putting his mouth where Marc so desperately wants it. He licks a strip up Marc’s dick, revelling in the way his moans shift up a pitch. Marc releases little hitching breaths as he finally, finally, takes Marc all the way, sucking without hesitation.

Marc’s hands are scrabbling for purchase on the tiles. His moans get louder as he loses himself to the feeling. His brain is mush as he slips into another headspace, floating, the only thoughts are more and Vale. He can’t produce any words apart from Valentino’s name which he whines out. Marc brings a hand to his mouth, trying to stop the needy whines from slipping out.

Valentino taps his hip, “No, no. I want to hear you, Bambino”.

Marc groans, long and low, his hips bucking into the warmth of Vale’s mouth. The older man pins his hips against the wall. Marc’s knees damn near give out as Valentino begins to suck in earnest, laving his tongue over Marc’s head and drinking him down to the hilt.

The only sensations Marc registers are the wet heat around him and the finger biting into his hips. The rest of the world is static.

He’s getting close far too quickly, only spurred on when he looks down and sees the older man looking back up his blue eyes steely, almost engulfed by his blown pupils. Marc tries to gulp down the whimper in the back of his throat, his hips bucking of their own accord. Valentino hums around his dicks before pulling off with a wet pop. He smirks up at Marc.

Valentino loves Marc like this, whining, fucked out, and desperate.

He pulls himself to his feet, ignoring the way his knees pop and protest, instead pushing himself against Marc and kissing him soundly. Marc can taste himself, bitter on Vale’s tongue. He groans pitifully.

Valentino breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips across Marc’s jaw, sucking more bruises into Marc’s neck until there is almost no space left unblemished.

(Marc will pretend to be annoyed later, complaining as he secretly examines the bruises in the mirror, a pleased smile on his face.)

Marc pushes on Vale’s head.

“In me? Please?” he whines.

Valentino chuckles, “Later, Carino. We have no lube”

“I don’t care, fuck me, please Vale” Valentino groans, the temptation rising as Marc pleads.

“No, Tesoro. I don’t want to hurt you. We do it like this for now, okay? Come on Gattino, show me how pretty you are.”

Valentino is quickly learning the best way to get reactions from Marc, to cause the younger man to become dazed and pliant like he is now. He punctuates his request by rolling his hips into Marc, gripping his ass and encouraging him to grind against Vale.

Marc does so readily, rutting them together until he is almost sobbing, squirming under Valentino’s hands. They’re both getting close. Marc makes a glorious sight in his arms, his eye wide and doe-like, his muscles clenching and unclenching as he chases release.

Vale wraps his hand around both of them, gasping at the added friction. He connects their lips again, more panting into each other’s mouths than actually kissing.

“Come on, Bambino, come for me” Valentino whispers, bucking up to chase the pleasure.

In the end, that’s what does it for Marc. He shakes and whines as he comes, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes screwed up. Valentino follows soon after, pushed over the edge by the vision of Marc falling apart.

When he comes back to himself, Valentino gently washes them both, soothing hands against Marc’s body as the younger man drifts. Marc is always quiet afterwards, his head blissfully empty.

Valentino steers Marc out of the shower and deposits him onto the ledge, fetching one of the towels and wrapping it around him, watching the way the younger man curls into warmth. Vale tenderly helps Marc dry, kissing the exposed sections of skin. Once Marc is changed, Valentino focuses on himself, perfunctory, already thinking about what to cook for dinner, considering what Marc likes.

The younger man looks warm and content, wrapped in one of Valentino’s hoodies, too long in the sleeves, clinging more to Marc’s chest and shoulders, where it’s loose on Vale. It settles somewhere inside of Valentino, a place he’s beginning to associate with home.

They were right, back in Aragon, it hasn’t been easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. It took Marc two months to feel secure that Vale wouldn’t just up and leave. Even now there are moments when they both tense, waiting for the other to land a blow. Moments where it threatens to blow up in their face, a bated breath when a sharp-edged comment slips out.

Every time though, one of them stops back, unloads the gun, and lowers their fists. They use words now, communicating in soft-spoken apologies and reassuring touches.

“you’re the one who left last time”

“And I said I’m sorry amore”

“Sorry doesn't fix everything, Vale.”

A soft sigh and a light touch on the back followed.

“I know, I know. A sorry does not even begin to cover half of the things I have done. Yet I am still sorry.”

Marc looks away.

“Marc, please”

A sigh, “It is okay. I am just hurting, not angry, just a fresh wound Vale”

Valentino holds him close until it gets better and doesn’t let go, even after.

The childish avoidance from before is gone; hindsight has shown them that was not a good strategy. They still have their squabbles, occasionally digging too far, but it is better now, less vicious.

Still, Marc has to text his mum twice on the first day, just to confirm that they haven’t killed each other yet. His parents were reluctant for him to come to Italy; they are still wary, unwilling to trust Valentino as easily as Marc does, or is learning to. They cannot resist the occasional jab at the older man, comments designed to stir up guilt; Marc is dreading the day that they all have to be in the same room. Alex is just about coming around, albeit reluctantly. For now, he is content to watch on suspiciously, waiting for even a slight slip-up from Vale. Ultimately though, they just want Marc to be happy, and if that is with Vale, so be it.

As Valentino promised, they have taken every second slowly, catching up on everything they’ve missed. Valentino refused to sleep with him until Marc won in Phillip Island. Even then Marc had begged and begged until Valentino laid him carefully onto the bed in his hotel room and took him apart slowly, carefully. Until Marc was drooling into a pillow, crying.

Afterwards, Valentino wrapped him up in his arms and held him until he came back into his body. He had picked Marc up, and washed him in the shower, taking care to press kisses against any part he could reach. He wrapped Marc in a soft fluffy towel and slept next to him until dawn broke on the following day.

It's odd for them, to take it slow when they are so used to 300kph. But it’s good. Different, but good. Soft and unhurried as they have all the time in the world. They both knew if this was going to work, it had to be different. They couldn’t make the same mistakes as before.

They owed it to themselves to at least try.

So now they spend their days in a sort of bubble; a world which other people aren’t privy to – not yet. In this world, Valentino fucks Marc gently on his bed and kisses him breathlessly in the kitchen. He whispers, ‘I love you,’ against Marc’s lips mid-kiss, his neck when they hug, and his hair as the younger man sleeps in his arms. Valentino has a different version of Marc from the rest of humanity - one who is soft, pliant and sweet. He loves both versions of Marc and all of him, so long as they’re his.

On Thursday, people begin to arrive for the race.

Marc doesn’t know why he agreed to this plan; he has basically treated himself to an undercurrent of sick nerves in his stomach for the whole day, possibly the weekend. His heart beats faster and louder every time he hears a new car pulling into the drive.

Valentino keeps Marc tucked into his side for as long as he can before he is swept up in the duties of being Valentino Rossi. Marc is embarrassed that by 9 am he is still hiding in the house. By the time Luca finds Marc, he’s a mess.

Intuitively, he knows that he’s safe, but a part of him can’t quite let go of the anxiety. His therapist warned him that this may happen, his brain playing tricks on him, convincing him that something bad will happen. She said that it stems from what happened last time, their eventual ruin. Marc hates it.

When they eventually have to leave the safety of the house, Marc keeps his chin up, shutting down any hint of nerves or anxiety. Outwardly, he is the picture of calm indifference, inside he’s a mess. His only reassurance is Luca’s presence and the knowledge that Alex will be here soon.

Marc nods at everyone he passes, ignoring the double takes, and pretends that he knows what he’s doing as he casually loiters at the front of the house for Alex. By the time his brother pulls up, Marc is vibrating out of his skin, only relaxing once Alex has gathered him into his arms.

The plan is to act as though Marc and Alex arrived together, so they enter the foyer together, greeted by an enthusiastic Valentino.

“Marc, Alex. Allora, it is good to see you”

Marc now understands the ungodly number of espressos the older man had this morning. Alex shoots Valentino a sceptical look, bordering on unimpressed. Marc has to disguise his laughter with a cough.

As usual, it is all being filmed; the crew are eager to shove a camera in Marc’s face, their eagle eyes focused on Valentino’s hands trailing Marc’s waist when they stand together. Valentino dutifully points out which bits of merch to sign and where. He is acting more detached than Marc has seen him in a while. It burns, sour and acidic in the back of his throat.

Marc wishes they had talked about this, where they stand and who knows. It didn’t seem important to discuss before now, with too many other things to keep on track of. Marc assumes (hopes) that they can edit anything out as needed.

When the brothers have finished dutifully signing, Valentino signals for the filming to stop, shooing people away. Marc is tugged into a side room. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that Valentino is a bit like a teenager in the way he can’t keep his hands off Marc. He draws the younger man into a kiss, pushing him against the closed door.

Marc groans when he pulls away, changing Valentino’s lips for a second before giving up, his head thunking against the door.

“Oh, come on, my brothers out there” He whines, only pretending to be annoyed at Valentino's constant eagerness. The older man laughs in delight and presses one last kiss to Marc’s lips.

“Sorry Amore, I can’t resist. You just look so beautiful and I do not want you to be nervous, you seem nervous”

“Of course I’m nervous, everyone is staring at me” Marc says flatly

“Ah well, it is probably because your ass looks good”

Before Vale can finish the sentiment, there is a loud knock on the door.

“I can hear you, you know. Please stop”

Valentino smirks, pressing one last kiss to Marc’s cheek before he opens the door and lets them out.

Alex looks mightily unimpressed.

“Now now, baby Marquez, my house, my rules.” Valentino jokes, no heat behind his tone and his eyes dancing with humour. Alex groans.

“Franco is with the boys in the garages, I hear he’s looking forward to seeing you”

The effect is immediate, Alex flushing brightly at Vale’s teasing. It makes Marc cackle. With one last tap low on Marc’s waist, Valentino is gone, back to play the entertainer to his loyal subjects. Marc watches the older man go, before turning toward Alex and dragging him toward the garage.

It is strange, Marc thinks, that only days ago, Marc and Vale were here alone, kissing in peaceful moments between riding, training, cooking, and living. Reacquainting with one another and deciphering how to fit into each other’s lives.

There is no peace now.

Whilst Valentino plays the gratuitous host and welcomes every guest, Marc and Alex are left abandoned amongst a sea of people hungry to know why. Marc holds his head high, portraying a sense of disinterest even as he feels a hundred curious eyes on him.

It’s not exactly a secret that Vale and Marc are back on friendly terms, with Valentino being complementary in interviews and talking to Marc in the paddock. But to see Marc at the ranch will be a shock for many. Many more will be upset.

Marc tries to remember whose stupid idea this was. Entering the biggest event Valentino has ever put on right at the start of their relationship. 10 years of the 100k di campioni. Marc Marquez is in attendance.

The headlines practically write themselves.

To make matters worse, they’ve reshuffled the teams. Marc doesn’t know whose idea it was, whether it was Valentino, one of the boys, or someone else entirely. But Valentino was adamant that they had to race together.

Marc wondered whether it was to prevent any issues when one of them beat the other. Even though they were both fine with that, others might talk.

Either way, the team announcement was delayed until it became public knowledge that Marc was in attendance. It is bound to cause a commotion.

Marc guesses that going from enemies to friendly enough to be teammates (by choice) is quite the leap. The sudden reshuffle means that Pecco pairs with Luca, Franky with Alex, and Cele and Marco are together.

Marco muttered something about it being unfair that one of the teams has 17 world championships – Valentino laughed at the time but Marc thinks Bez was being dead serious. He doubts many other people have considered that yet. It’s only a matter of time before they see the two of them on the track and realise it might be slightly unfair. Oh well.

Marc keeps his head down as he drags Alex toward the garage. He tries to swerve around the people he doesn’t want to see, keeping out of the way of cameras. It’s funny really. He knows that he’ll be in the clips anyway, but if he tries to make himself smaller or irrelevant, maybe people will talk less.

(It’s wishful thinking)

Marc lets out a sigh of relief when they make it to where Pecco is chatting with Bez on the threshold of the building.

Releasing Alex’s arm, he greets the boys fondly, ruffling Bez’s hair and clasping hands with Pecco. He has a moment of panic when he belatedly realises that Alex has never really interacted with the boys. He questions whether they will play nice after everything which has happened; especially due to Alex’s protectiveness.

The worry doesn’t last long; they greet Alex kindly, albeit with a little awkwardness. The tension dissolves when Franky approaches, falling instead into boyish teasing as he wraps an arm over Alex’s shoulder. It feels natural, almost easy. Marc exhales, the tight coil in his stomach loosening slightly. Alex deserves happiness more than anyone he knows; Marc would do anything to keep him content.

The good-natured ribbing continues, but Franky takes it in his stride, simply pressing a kiss to Alex’s cheek and grinning smugly when he flushes. He must be used to it, growing up in this environment with these boys who are almost like family.

Pecco nudges him, subtly so the others don’t notice, content to let them continue to throw childish barbs at one another whilst he accosts Marc.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”, he teases. Marc rolls his eyes, shoving Pecco back lightly.

“Holding down the fort I believe”

Pecco huffs, an amused tilt to his lips.

The boys have taken well to him and Valentino tentatively dating, happily including Marc on race weekends. According to Vale, they have been asking for Marc to train with them at the ranch for months.

Marc feels such a swell of love for his new friends and their acceptance. It is like he has somehow adopted the children Vale has gathered over the years, in an odd way. He knows some of the younger ones admired him when they were growing up, before he and Vale imploded. It has almost come full circle, everything falling so easily into place. If Marc thinks about it, he feels this is a long time coming.

He fits in here - another teacher for the younger ones, someone who understands the pressure of being a champion and being on a bike that doesn’t love you as much as you love it. Someone who knows what it’s like to win, to lose, and to overcome the impossible.

There is a sense of belonging that Marc hasn’t felt in some time.

While the boys mess around, joking and laughing, Marc peaks his head out to look around. Hidden in the alcove of the garage, he scouts the people who are already here. He recognises some familiar faces - riders from the grid, some of the lower leagues, and one or two from different events and classes. It’s quite the lineup.

Marc shelters for as long as he can, unwilling to go out and face the music. He really wishes that he and Valentino had thought of some answers to the inevitable questions before they dived headfirst into this.

Eventually, though, his plan is foiled by Mig, who shuffles them outside, ever the leader in the academy.

“Stop being hermits and go mingle”

Marc pouts at Mig until the younger man pats his cheek, mocking but not cruel.

“Do not be a baby, you are too old for that.”

It just makes Marc scowl, before he changes tact, going wide-eyed and innocent in the hopes of persuading the younger man to let him stay. He sees the moment Mig clocks onto what he’s doing.

“God, I see why Valentino thinks you're adorable. You have a face like a disgruntled cat, although your puppy eyes are pretty adorable”, he smirks.

Marc gapes at him whilst the others burst into rambunctious laughter.

“Ay, Mig, you were not meant to tell him that” Marco giggles

Luca smiles, “Stop flirting with Vale’s boyfriend, he will get mad, you know what he is like”

The comment confuses Marc, and he frowns. He doesn’t know what Valentino is like. It startles him, the realisation that he has no idea how Vale talks about him.

Pecco throws an arm over his shoulder, grinning as he puts on a high-pitched voice, imitating Vale.

“Allora, stop staring at him”

Cele chips in, also mimicking Vale “Marc’s so perfect. It’s so unfair”

Mig chokes out his impersonation between fits of giggles “I am definitely not jealous but I will kill you if you so much as look at Marc, even though I can’t bring myself to make it more official than the occasional coffee.”

Alex is giggling along, unaware of Franky’s awed face watching him.

Marc doesn’t know how to feel.

Bez nudges him, “We are only taking the piss, it is funny.”

“We have had to put up with the old man pining for too long,” Pecco adds

“Ah well, that is what happens when we get old. A good impression of him though.”

It comes from someone new, not one of the boys. Marc jerks, he knows that voice.

Behind Franky stands Dovi, a wide smile on his face as he observes the group, clearly privy to their previous conversation.

The boys fall silent, their gazes snapping between Marc’s shocked face to Dovi's one of amusement. Luca leaves first, excusing himself and patting Dovi’s shoulder as he goes. The others follow suit, slowly slinking away to give them some privacy.

Marc stares at Dovi in silence, stunned and unsure what to say.

It has been playing on his mind recently, the fear that he might have hurt Dovi. Even though they agreed to remain friends, he feels guilty. Dovi doesn’t deserve that pain, it isn’t fair.

“Hey, none of that. Don’t feel guilty, you two deserve happiness.” Dovi declares, tapping Marc twice on the chin.

Marc grimaces. Dovi laughs; he doesn’t look sad, or annoyed- quite the opposite, Dovi looks like he’s glowing with happiness. In fact, now that Marc thinks about it, squinting at Dovi, he does look unusually happy, less tired, brighter.

“You’re tanned,” Marc says, changing the topic, suspicious of Dovi’s

Dovi shrugs, “Australia does that to you”

“Australia?” Marc parrots back, unable to hide his confusion.

It’s then that he hears a distinctive accented voice. He lifts his head, searching and sees Casey talking to Pecco a few feet away. His jaw drops.

Casey and Dovi are here and Vale hasn’t said a thing. He cannot begin to fathom why Valentino would invite Dovi after everything between them.

Marc flicks his gaze back and forth between Casey and Dovi, noting how the latter's cheeks begin to redden. He grins slyly.

“Oh, ohhhhhh. Is this a new thing?” Marc asks. Suddenly a few more things make sense.

Dovi chuckles a little,

“Um, yes. Fairly. After everything that happened, y’know with you and Valentino. I had a lot of thinking to do. As it turns out, Australia is good for that. And maybe I have a type.”

“Oh, and what type is that then?” Marc pushes cheekily; he can’t help the wicked grin that slips onto his face.

“Crazy bastards who look good on motorbikes.” comes the response, not from Dovi but from Valentino who wraps his arms around Marc and rests his chin on his head.

“Hey, don’t talk about my boyfriend like that” Dovi teases.

Casey wanders over and cuffs Valentino on the shoulder in reprimand before he slings his arm over Dovi’s shoulders.

Huh, Marc thinks. He leans back in Valentino, unable to help the way he relaxes.

Looking at Dovi and Casey now, he can see they’re happy, both adoring. It’s sweet. Marc realises that he is genuinely over the moon for them both. Dovi deserves someone simpler, less messy than him. And Casey is the perfect mix of grounded and still a little unhinged.

Even Valentino seems happy, no longer glaring at Andrea with barely concealed jealousy.

As Casey and Vale begin to bicker, he meets Dovi’s eyes, smiling wide.

Maybe things have a way of working out in the end.

Of course, social media blows up when the official VR46 account posts videos of Marc at the ranch. Valentino’s subsequent repost goes viral. Marc is giggling at the insanity as he lays in bed on Friday night, his head pillowed on Valentino’s chest. The boys have clearly taken it as a challenge to see who can break the internet the quickest, posting pictures they have snuck of Marc and Vale from the past three months. None of them are incriminating but if you look hard enough, you can see the softness in Vale’s eyes in every photo.

(Luca unofficially wins with a photo of Valentino and Marc asleep in someone’s motorhome. Not cuddled, but close enough that their hands are touching.)

Marc is still smiling as he falls asleep to the sound of Valentino's heartbeat, their legs entwined.

The weekend continues without a hitch, much to Marc’s relief. He spends most of the time mingling with the boys, sometimes being pulled into conversations with non-MotoGP riders who ask him about Ducati next year. Marc is thankful that no one asks about him and Vale, he doesn’t think they need any more drama.

Luca wins the Americana race for another year running, dominating the field. Marc giggles when Pecco hugs him for just a fraction of a second too long, eliciting whistles from Bez and Mig. The atmosphere is pleasant - laid back rather than overly competitive.

By the time the main race rolls around, Marc is enjoying himself so much that he forgets to be nervous. He has naturally fallen into the rhythm of riding here, watching as Valentino skids through the dirt, approaching the line to hand over to Marc. It’s electric, the roar of the bikes, the screaming crowd, Valentino swerving toward him, a glimpse of wild blue behind the visor.

When Marc takes over, they are already leading. Marc bears down, grinning manically as he hears Pecco hot on his tail. He throws himself into every corner, grasping for the win, catching the bike as it threatens to slip out from underneath him. He skids too hard around one corner, wrangling the bike under control just in time, letting Pecco close in next to him. Good, Marc thinks, a real race.

They fly together through the laps, Marc edging into the lead once more, swinging his leg out for balance, his gaze laser-focused on the racing line. This is his element. He pulls away from Pecco, the speed of his cornering just too much for the younger man to keep pace.

Valentino is there, cheering as Marc thunders over the line, pulling him into a hug as he slows to a stop. The crow roars. Marc beams, flipping his visor up. He desperately wants to kiss Vale, holding himself back from jumping right here and now. He settles for a knowing look shared between them as the others begin to crowd around and celebrate.

Before Marc knows it, they are being shepherded over to where a makeshift podium has been set up. They are awarded their stupid necklaces and champagne as the others watch on.

Marc stands on the top step, gazing up at Valentino next to him.

He sees a God, the man who broke his heart and is now piecing it back together again.

He sees his past, his present, and his future.

Valentino meets his gaze, “Okay, Bambino?”

Marc grins

“Yes. With you, yes – always”

Valentino glances around quickly, and shrugs helplessly, pulling Marc in. Marc laughs, gasping slightly as Vale wraps one arm around his waist and the other around the back of his neck. Marc’s hands come to rest on Valentino’s hips.

“Vale, the cameras” Marc giggles.

Valentino grins, “They can delete it, or not I don’t care. I have the greatest treasure in the world, I don’t mind people knowing that.”

Valentino presses their lips together right there, in front of everyone. Marc beams into it, delighted, there are still purple-red hickeys sitting on his neck and Valentino’s arm around his waist. It feels like home.

Marc deepens the kiss, holding Vale by the roots of his curls. Someone hoots next to them and there is plenty of wolf-whistling from the crowd; Marc can hear Alex laughing.

Fireworks go off behind them. Marc breaks away from Vale, still smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

“I love you”

“I love you too, mi amore”

*End*

#motogp #marc marquez #motogp rpf #rosquez #my fics #valentino rossi #medical leak au #pecco bagnaia #andrea dovizioso #vr46 #eeeekk

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rasby · 3 days ago

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How do the M6 drive?

I recently got my drivers license and i missed these goobers so...here you go :)

Asra:

• Oh god...GET OFF THE ROAD!!!

• Pretty sure their license is a fake one...there is no way they passed a drivers test in their life

• Too distracted, forgets to follow the rules, forgets to put in the gas...

• They'd go to a gas station with the intention to fill the car with gas and leave with no money for gas but a thousand different snacks and drinks

• Prefers to be a passanger princess anyway

• Doesn't know anything about cars either, but that's why they have Muriel and/or MC ♡

• Stickers and little decorations everywhere they could fit. They're more concerned with the cars looks then functionality...

Nadia:

• Always the group driver

• Probably the only one responsible enough to drive more then 2 people

• Keeps everything up to date, follows every rule possible

• Is known to ever so slightly road rage during long car drives or really bad traffic

• Her car is neat and probably smells very nice

Julian:

• He's an okay driver

• Good at following the rules, no road rage at all, only slight annoyed glances

• Good reflexes, knows how to drive even under pressure

• His only big issue is that he will drive tired

• Obviously he'll claim he's fine and that he can handle it but after a few hours of driving, everyone would need a break.

• Falls asleep immediately after someone else starts driving

• Probably a messy car, but it works perfectly cause he does regular check ups (smells a bit musty though)

Portia:

• I personally think that she would not be a driver at all

• Even if she had a license, i doubt it would ever be her first choice to be the driver

• She's too scared, and panicky, and multiple lives would be relying on her

• Also, she'll miss out on seeing and yelling "cows" when the car passes some cows!

• On the rare occassion that she does drive, it wouldn't be too long, and she would be tense the entire time

• If she did have a car it would be a small, cute car. Nothing too much, though i think she prefers taking public transport

Muriel:

• Muriel is, i think, the perfect driver

• Doesn't road rage, good at following the rules, doesn't speed...

• But i don't think he has a license

• They are expensive to get, and it's not like he goes anywhere too crowded or important that the police would stop him

• He knows a lot about cars, probably lives in a car or a van with Asra

• Used to only drive with one or two people (Asra and MC) but as soon as there is more people then that he's tense and self concious and can't do it, especially not on any long distances

• Eventually Nadia gets him a proper licence

• He also wouldn't have a car cause he would share one with Asra, and he's mot that concerned with what it looks like

Lucio:

• ...

• No one is safe when he's on the road...

• He's not a necessarily bad driver like Asra is

• He knows the rules, and he knows when he is breaking them

• He speeds too much, only drives fancy fast cars, he's always in a rush to get somewhere

• Probably got his license revoked at some point

• Probably caused a few car crashes too...

• He doesn't clean his car or fix it, but he pays people to do it regularly. He has to have the fanciest, prettiest car, to match his personality.

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vivianbernadetteaurora · 2 days ago

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VIRGO MERCURY ♍️📫✨️

Virgo mercury.

and why it is domicile.

. and the people who have this placement who are famous.. Whitney Houston. Being one of the most powerful people with the voice of that and Amy Winehouse and Freddie Mercury. open people who have this placement. I literally just wrote all of this and it took me ages and I keep losing it. Where I live at the moment has really bad signal..,, so this can show you a placement and part of it because Virgo rules talking our intellect our thoughts our voice how our voice sounds, what we With that what we talk about. how we go How we get our point across.I’m going to show you. How this can be. The strongest placement at all. The strongest placement in a darker side of it. Like for this is coming from personal experience being a Virgo mercury. For instance I love it that Freddie Mercury is called Freddie Mercury because he is Virgo mercury and a Virgo sun .Own rule. Prince Harry, who literally comes from the royal family who written about talked about everything. have had TV shows. around them documentaries. probably millions. Around the world.. he’s had his words changed against him because of his narrative with his wife. Who I believe might B a a narcissist . so you can see how it can come from another person all of these great singers who shared their words with us and live on in our memory and our cultural research have this placement, OK Amy Winehouse even the way how at the Grammy she’s like making fun of Justin timberlake’s album this can also make your voice be quite unique. It grows a player in another way like and I’m thinking of skins when Effie in the first series doesn’t talk at all I literally would be mute at school and talkative at home this is being somebody who only got diagnosed as autistic in the last three years. because when you're on that borderline of normal and unusual. putting it nicely for once. Because when I was growing up you still didn’t really talk about mental health like it was there but it wasn’t how it is now it wasn’t a thing that was talked about so for a lot of millennials it’s like a whole new learning process like our whole culture has been taken away from us in a way. We live in an opposite world.

Freddie Mercury a gay man he literally only told the press the day before he died that he had the virus and was seriously ill he knew it was gonna come out in a matter of time. And didn’t know how he’d feel about that probably and all the headlines that would be written.

And this is how it comes across through other people’s words you could literally have your reputation tarnished like it’s a strong placement whenever there’s a detriment full domicile or exaltation in a chart that is going to be very strong in this person's life. Like words are gonna be a thing.. like for me I feel like it went the opposite way like I obsess over because Virgo knows that what people expect it may be a mutable sign but it’s very astute that’s why I said that Virgo moons., I don’t understand why it’s not a detriment or full placement really because. It’s very cruel and it can roam over grooming, and also I believe self harm I mean look at Amy Winehouse when she did that magazine cover and that photo shoot with that photographer I do not like anything it’s quite disgusting Terry Richardson where she’s literally carving her partner’s name into her body that is heavy Britney Spears when she shaved her hair and whacked that paparazzi’s car and myself people might be really heavy drug users there’s also going to be a theme possibly around their weight and their size sometimes from Jacob binges sometimes from the opposite withdrawal I remember with Whitney Houston at the Michael Jackson tribute concert where they both weren’t very well she came on the stage and I remember my dad saying that she looked good but apparently they had to digitally alter her weight so I dread to imagine if that is true and what she really looked like because she was tiny like these people are aware of things that are young age and that can see through people’s bullshit.

They can get turned on by being degradated or humiliated that even,. I truly believe that with Virgo because they are not. Happy with who they are and that is why they strive to perfection they’re just this psychic as pisces

it's just in a different kind of way. Is more in a viable way rather than feeling but you can definitely feel an energy they can feel the energy they can feel the room they can read a room in both sense of the word of reading a room and reading a person down like Wendy Williams on her infamous interview.and all these people have had, shows documentaries series about them, so just words just think words intellect is gonna be a big theme in their life. Whether other people say it or not you can read it on a variety of anxious energy. An urgency they do not like being alone for a long even the quieter ones. I think of Amy Winehouse and Freddie Mercury with their iconic voices uneven iconic look.

that many girls across the nation copied that Amy Winehouse thick eyeliner and beehive hair. she wanted to be like all the girl groups that had come before in the 60s and this will be a massive thing in their life music will literally live music it will be like a drug to them and they won’t be able to let other people have any control play music. Like with Whitney Houston and she has that strong leo’s sun sign. I know because I am one myself with a Virgo mercury.. but she also has that Aries band and on the Diane Sawyer interview they’re like is it is it booze, is it pills, is it drugs what is it what’s the devil and she’s like I don’t know do you know Diane.. no you don’t and she read Wendy down exactly the same.. but she could also be incredibly charming. but she obviously had some,. Why you’re being manipulated by Bobby Brown to some degree even though I don’t think Bobby is completely to blame we literally watched her lose her voice that’s, how powerful These person is and her child really young two years old.

Look you see how that can play out in such a dark way like Freddie Mercury got that disease aids and HIV I don’t really like to talk about this but he obviously got from like 6:00 with men who’s up literally has been publicly I guess humiliated and he knew this he knew that the world would see it like that so celebrities do tell the press things that they know are gonna get out even things that probably wouldn't get out. They know and he probably knew the ship it would make him feel and the pain the headlines like his secret would be out in a way yeah well it was his secret and it was his choice. I find it rather ironically I find the press kind of disgusting even as someone who’s into celebrity culture like watching Britney Spears like in real time shave her head get that tattoo and click see how mercuries and Sagittarius that’s detriment and I love her for what she did but even in 2007 we didn’t know about mental health it wasn’t really spoken about it was something that was but we didn’t know ohh it was I feel that’s how I remember it But it was painful to watch OK felt away about that Wow what’s going on I feel like Virgo could rule self harm as well the elevator is self harm they do they really really do like I just said about Britney Spears and she got 5150 didn’t she in 2007 if you remember Amy when she did that photo shoot was that sick photographer who I hate Terry Richardson. She’s literally cutting her partner’s name into her body like they like that they they do what is it being I’m not too sure or me for instance like myself on every day by injecting drugs into my body like the pain and those come from that my axe who is doing it all the time he has Venus conjunct Mars and Mars is more about pain and Venus is more about pleasure so when you mix the two together and create this tangible. Like we can really be into pain pain pain hi needles knives burning like I can think of all of them. I can also attribute this to having Venus conjunct chiron the wounded healer. being CHIRON the asteroid. and whatever sign it is is where you have the pain going on in your life. all the deepest pain.

Even Freddie Mercury having those extra teeth that allegedly made his voice sound so amazing and the fact that Live Aid.,. where he’s talking to the crowd and he’s doing like he’s vocal warm ups to the crowd that is something that you can’t forget that is something that is a cultural reset like I said with Amy Winehouse too I’m Whitney Houston who’s been known as the voice. that that comes through that part of that chart so strongly vividly. And how people have also wrote words about them out of their control or out of their reach or power .. or you can have it or you grow up in a household where you were lied to a lot and your own narrative and words were taken away from me or you were the one who has lied to you because of your reactions to things and your upset. Which can feel really painful like if you’re not feeling that love or that you’re being stimulated you will explain hi Joseph you might ********** with bravado like Russell Brand said Amy Winehouse stayed a bit like stubbing out cigarettes and chucking them around to impress him, i always related to that so much this is quite painful they will actually self harm with drugs and mutilate themselves ohh I am not being ridiculed to her my life and how I’ve had that happen to them his children and abuse can take any form like for me it was more isolation like if I feel like my relationship for the last six years it turned into my parents and it killed me it literally broke my spirit because I didn’t wanna be dysfunctional obese can be sexual, violent because corrosive was self-inflicted are you a danger to yourself or others and honestly I think it needs to be talked about more. I was saying to my boyfriend last night that crying up middle class you can often feel like this, This is why I love shameless so much and watch it every night over and over again because I love how they stick together on council estates. and run scams to make money. I loyal to each other borough and land.l borrow of Peter to Pay Paul.... I know it because it’s my lifestyle too even though I’m not from a counselor state I will come into that drug world where it’s heavy in that in a way in that world not always you get many different addicts. And not all of the same. We’re all different every one of us growing up in a family where addiction wasn’t a thing. Even if they say they understand they ******* don’t.

they treat you like their unwanted ginger stepchild, and if you wanted to save more physical affection,. They will starve you of it they believe you just want more and more when in fact it’s a ******* illness for ******** why not think of where it actually originated from so you could actually ******* do something about it. sorry but it makes me really angry. to the point of wanting to hurt myself.

#fypage #astro observations #astro placements #astro community #astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astroblr

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