#i had planed to finish this when the new season dropped

[adelaidedrubman]

What if the strap could prematurely ejaculate? (Or, Jestiny gets knocked down a peg.) read on ao3.

notes: if i ever accidentally posted something good enough to trick you into following this account, i truly apologize. anyways here’s part two of the john/jestiny failstrap series. set hl&s adjacent and spiritual sequel to mine’s bigger. also new year’s eve themed, i meant to get it posted then but ironically didn’t finish in time. wordcount: 3.8k warnings: explicit sexual content, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation. (neg ’em and peg ’em, the jestiny rook method.) i feel like secondhand embarrassment and cringe dialogue is something of an implicit blanket warning for all my stuff, but. i feel the need to explicitly flag it in this one. that should tell you something. (please also see ao3 end notes or post tags for disclaimers.)

As with all holidays, Jestiny would ideally prefer to spend her New Year’s Eve outdoors. 

She would gladly take her midnight kisses whilst guzzling craft beer and watching fish leap from the water over sipping champagne and watching pixelated footage of a ball dropping — if only the temperatures of December bleeding into January in Montana would agree with her preferences. 

And sure, a sharp chisel and thick jacket could guarantee she would still be taking home her share of trout from a frozen solid pond. A good set of crampons strapped to her favorite hiking boots was all she needed to scale the highest mountain peaks, even covered in ice. A durable tent and well-insulated sleeping bag meant she could still feel wind-nipped cheeks warmed by the flames of a real campfire no matter the season, instead of settling for the store-bought logs currently crackling in the hearth behind her.

But even a rugged outdoorswoman the likes of Jestiny had to admit the blistering, unforgiving cold of Big Sky Country winter required some activities be strictly indoor-only until the first wildflowers of spring poked up from the hard, frozen earth. 

And even with all the proper equipment packed, when it came to the activities that required removing clothing… 

“God, I’ve needed this so fucking bad,” John whined against her jaw, pulling her along by the arm as his other hand impatiently finished her work of centering her strap-on properly in its harness. “I want you to fuck me all night long, right into the New Year. I want you to fuck me in every room of this house, until I can’t look anywhere without thinking of you.” 

What Jessie didn’t have to admit — at least not out loud — was that the spacious yet cozy faux rustic interior of Seed Ranch, with its pervasive scent of leather, pine, and woodsmoke wafting from the fireplace; the vista of sprawling snow covered mountains offered up by its grand far-stretching windows; the lurking presence of hoards of taxidermy animals around every corner, made it the best substitute she could imagine for the thrill of fucking outdoors. 

Yes, it was all blatantly, dreadfully fake — but fake was better than nothing.

“I want you to take me right here on my dining room table,” John continued to lustfully monologue to himself as his thighs hit the edge of the table on his path backward with Jessie in tow, turning from their embrace just long enough to sweep an arm along its length and knock all the stray clutter atop it to the floor. “Don’t hold back. Be rough enough to break it. Just give it to me and don’t stop.” He hopped atop the table to sit, then wrapped legs around Jestiny’s waist to pull her into place. “Then I want you to lay me down in front of the fireplace. Hold me close and take your time with me, give it to me slow until I’m fucking begging. Then drag me upstairs and bend me over the railing. Pound me until I can’t stand, until I cry. Then I want you to carry me into the model plane room and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shushed as she pushed him back to his elbows, popping the top off of the bottle of lube clenched in her fist. “I’ll fuck you on every tacky ass piece of furniture in this ugly fucking house.” She forced an extra grumble of irritation to hide the tremor of desire threatening to slip into her words from the sight of him laid back for her with legs spread, brow slick with sweat and the dew of melting snowflakes still clinging to his eyelashes. “I assume you want me to lube it up first, though…”

“Let me,” he cooed, grabbing the bottle from her just as it had begun to drip onto sleek silicone. “I want to do it…”

She shrugged in disinterested agreement, placing her hands behind her head and jutting her hips forward as he poured along the length, palm cradling its underside and sliding along to catch the excess. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting down on his lip as he began to pump his hand faster along the attachment. “Already so fucking hard for me.”

She crinkled her nose and cocked her head to the side. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she questioned. “It’s a fucking dildo, John — it’s always hard.”

“It’s — It’s a turn of phrase,” he huffed, tightening his grip and jerking towards him so that she near-stumbled into him. “Are you not familiar with the concept of dirty talk? Not everything has to be so damn literal. Use some imagina —”

“And why the hell are you jerking it off?” she demanded, thrusting a hand against his collarbone. “You know I can’t feel that, right?”

“Well, I’ll try to be more realistic, then,” he snapped as he leaned forward and shoved a hand between her legs. 

Fingers spring-loaded with lingering fury moved to roughly pull her harness to the side, barely stilling or softening their touch before sliding inside her. His other hand remained stubbornly wrapped around silicone to pump it at a now comically harsh pace, as if to prove just how aware he was there was no delicate flesh and blood to be concerned with suffering beneath his vice grip — beginning the spectacle with a rough shove forward of its base to press against her with a pressure that did incidentally send a rewarding flicker of pleasure through hungry nerve endings. 

“Fuck,” he ground out in repetitive correction, his tone wilting midway from a sarcastic hiss to a reverent whimper as he curled his fingers. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

Well, it wasn’t her fault he looked so good flushed and panting, even through the ridiculous theatrics. 

“Like you got room to fuckin’ talk,” she scoffed as she reached to quickly coat her fingers with lube, sliding inside him and finding right where they needed to be with a practiced ease that made her cheeks warm with satisfied pride at her own expertise. Her thumb traced a line up his cock to find and leisurely smear the precum dewing at his tip. “Fuckin’ dripping the second I get my fingers in you.”

The surrender in his next whimper was complete, paired with a bucking of his hips to beg for more as he mirrored her steady pumping in the pace of his own fingers, thumb tucking itself beneath her harness to find and stroke her clit properly — all while still uselessly jerking off the dildo resting atop it, of course. 

Well. Maybe it was useless, but she had to admit — privately — his hands did look nice doing that. 

Even if the curve of his spine restyled itself into a distinctly unnatural, exaggerated arch as he regrettably regained the faculty for words. “God, yes, do you — ah, do you like how it feels inside me?” 

Another stupid question. Reaching past the contrived, polished exterior to find the depths at which he was all warm silk fluttering to the touch? Delving inside him to feel the promise of all the power to reduce him to a stuttering, pleading mess pulse beneath a single fingertip?

How could she not be positively intoxicated by it? How could the rush of adrenaline it stirred be contained to anything less than electricity prickling along every inch of skin until the air itself felt charged with the intensity of her desire? 

“It feels like an asshole, John,” she deadpanned, dragging her finger to tease shallowly. “Felt one, you’ve pretty much felt them all — and until science finds a way to implant a g-spot in the human finger, I’ll be getting just as little out of it every time.” 

She gave a swift upward thrust for one last prod of his prostate in punctuation before she slipped fingers out entirely in the same fluid motion of her shoulders shrugging. “I’m more interested in finally getting to fuck you so good you can’t even talk to ask dumbass questions like that.”

She used the hand sticky with lube to smear a last glob onto the head of her strap as the other cradled his face, smoothing a thumb over his pouting lip as she added, “Just as soon as you ask nice.”

His pout deepened. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb now, baby. You know the drill.” She pushed him to lay with back flat on the table. “Beg me for it.”

“No,” he said testily, lifting his chin to give her a look of pure defiance. “You beg me.”

Her breath caught, for a moment — as if his words sank to snag in her chest before her mind even processed them, lunging back up as sharp barks of laughter the moment it did. 

“Alright,” she sighed, breathless, as she dropped her head to rest against his collarbone and reached down to line up her attachment. “That was funny enough I’ll let you get by without the begging, this time.”

Her hips barely canted a single centimeter forward before they were stopped by a rough fist grabbing at the base of her dildo to hold her in place. 

“It wasn’t a joke,” John hissed, eyes icing cold with determination, like a pond freezing over. “You’re going to beg to fuck me, or you won’t fuck me at all.”

She allowed her confused blinks to pick up pace into a sarcastic batting of her eyelashes paired with a sweet, dimple framed smile. “John, darling. My most cherished love. Light of my life, fire of my silicone sporting loins. Could you, kindly —” she scrunched her face into a scowl, “tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about?” 

“You’ve done nothing all night but mock and belittle me, and act as if you’re somehow begrudgingly doing me a favor,” he snapped. “Now you’re going to admit you want it as badly as I do,” he said, allowing his tone to melt and soften as he circled a finger around delicate, rosy skin. “If you want this, you have to beg for it.” 

Oh, he was serious. 

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach at how serious he was. 

All the better. She loved a challenge. 

“Now is not the fucking time to be a brat, John,” she growled, threading fingers in his hair and tugging in the way that pulled a needy moan to the surface to tremble in his adam’s apple. “Now is the time to be a good boy and spread your legs.”

“Oh, and I will,” he moaned, craning his neck so the pull of his hair was tautened — a dare, a meet and raise of a bet. “I’ll be so good for you, as soon as I hear that magic word.” 

This time, the hand around her strap stayed still as he reached down to wrap one around his own cock. 

“Say ‘please’ for me, Jessie,” John begged with wide eyes as he began to stroke himself. “I’m already so close — don’t make me cum from touching myself alone. I want you to fuck it from me. I need your strap.”

That bastard. But two could play that game. 

“Are you begging me to beg you?” she scoffed as she began rolling her hips in steady rhythm, the tip of her strap just barely bumping against him as she fucked the grip of his hand in a promise of what she could do. “Why would I beg for something I won’t even feel?”

“Because you want to take me, don’t you, Jessie? Don’t you want this ass to be yours?” Fuck, he did not play fair — spreading his legs wider and pushing forward to rub the head against slickened, puckered skin, make it look so easy to slide home and fuck the attitude out of him. The sight alone made the friction of grinding against a held still strap-on swell to an unexpected thrum of ecstasy trickling through her veins. “God, I want it. I want to feel the way you move inside me. I want to belong to you, every part of me. I want to cum for you, only for my Jessie.”

Christ, when did the cheesy, unnatural porn lines start working on her?

“Must not want it t-too bad,” she grunted with a particularly harsh snap of her hips. The electricity in the air had heavied, absolutely saturated it. It fizzled with that strange feeling of being up high during a thunderstorm, everything so strongly charged that hair stood on end. “Since you won’t just let me —”

“Oh, I will, Jessie,” he panted, training his eyes on her impotent thrusts as he stroked himself faster. “I’ll let you do anything you want, as soon as you’re ready to —”

“Just —” She glared, thrust harder as if she could break right through his grip and end the standoff, only managing to increase pressure. “Move your fucking hand, and I’ll —”

“You’ll what?” he teased, squeezing the thighs wrapped around her waist. “Please tell me, won’t you? At least talk me off the way I like, since you’re not going to —” 

“You’re not going to get off at all, until I —” Fuck, how was this happening? How could she feel every fiber of authority she possessed suddenly unraveling to slip from her fingers? “Say you’re fucking allowed —”

“I’m so close,” he gasped, tossing his head back and arching towards her — the tip of her strap just barely disappearing as he did. “But feel so empty. Oh, Jessie, won’t you —”

“Can you just —” Her cheeks were scalding as she fumbled to grab his hips and grumbled, “For the — the fucking love of god, could you please just —”

She found herself falling forward before she’d even realized the damned word had fallen from her lips, his hand pulling away the second it was spoken and his legs flexing to pull her in, sliding inside him as her knees smacked against the table. 

And every volt of electricity hanging overhead came suddenly crashing down with her as she buried to the hilt as the coaxing of his eager rocking hips — as if lightning finally crackled through the air to ripple down her spine and spread through her body. Spread so forcefully she could taste it in her mouth, feel it tingle along her tongue and shoot down her jaw as the current seemed to hone on the place the base of the strap pressed just right against her clit — suddenly overloading from the sensation, short-circuiting into blissful oblivion. 

And it felt as if she really had been struck by lightning — the way her flesh crawled with searing heat, the way her insides turned and convulsed, the way every muscle twitched and trembled in pure surrender to its force. 

“Did you, um —” he shifted beneath her, pausing and clearing his throat as if for once in his life he realized what a ridiculous thing he was about to say and managed to think twice before saying it, “did you finish?”

“Did I —” she coughed weakly against his collarbone, wishing it had come out closer to a scoff than it did. “I’m genuinely fuckin’ curious — do you even bother to try to make the shit that comes out of your mouth make sense? Or do you just start flapping your jaws and see what happens?”

She did not wait for an answer before summoning her remaining wisps of strength to wind her hips back, forcing wobbly legs pleading to collapse beneath her to instead power a proper thrust forward. 

She yelped, a jolt of pain shooting up through sensitive, overstimulated nerves as the base of the strap pressed against her clit at the full extension of her stroke. 

John craned his neck, eyes scanning far too knowingly along the flush of pink sprawling along her cheeks and chest. “We can stop, if it’s —”

“I’m fuckin’ fine!” she barked. “I just —” She coughed, reaching down to slip a thumb beneath rubber ring and wedge under the dildo to put space between its base and her sore clit. “Gotta adjust a bit — you put this thing in at the wrong fuckin’ angle, fucked everything up.” She wriggled her hips back with a final grumble of, “Why you should never trust a man to do a woman’s job.”

She began rocking forward with hand still in place to lighten pressure against nerves pleading for rest — she could do this, she just needed to fake it through a few minutes of recovery period. She just needed to — 

“Shit!” she cursed, jittery thumb pressing too hard against the base to push it free from the ring with a taunting pop, staying lodged stubbornly inside her lover as she reeled back. She lurched forward, hurrying to retake her place, looking down to gauge position and hopefully reattach herself before he noticed. “Goddamn…” 

“Seriously, are you alright?” John questioned as he pushed himself up to his elbows. “Would you like ten minutes and a glass of orange —”

He was interrupted by a thud as he rose to sit fully upright and meet her face to face, Jestiny’s eyes barely catching to follow the shiny black blur that shot from between his legs to land heavy at her feet. 

“Fuck.” 

Her clumsy rush (since when was she clumsy? first saying ‘please’ and now this?) to turn and reach for the fallen dildo (was her sleight of hand good enough to reattach it without him noticing? what skills did she still have?) resulted in her kicking it with the heft of her combat boot (was it not a good idea to wear them during sex? who even was she?) before she’d even managed to bend down. 

She whipped around, finding hardwood bare save for a slight glistening streak. When she lifted her head to follow the snail trail of lube, she found the strap-on had rolled itself across the greater length of floor — losing little momentum as wood broke into granite. 

The slight rise of the granite platform barely impeded it at all, in fact, as it rolled right past the wrought-iron guard that had been haphazardly left ajar by Jestiny as she built the fire, tenderly welcomed into the roaring inferno of the fireplace. 

The dead lump of a scream in her throat seemed to creep down to spread its decay, making her insides shrivel into brittle rot. As the stench of burning plastic filled the air, her eyes began to water from the sting of chemical smoke. She wondered if she might actually cry for the first time in her adult life.

“Wha — ! Aah,” A confused, devastated noise caught in the back of Jestiny’s throat, withering there to die at the first crackle of silicone as her prized strap-on went up in flames before her eyes. 

The world swirled around her, buffeting at her senses like the cruelest of snowstorms.

Past the whistle and crackle of flame devouring silicone and the whoosh of her own pulse in her ears, Jestiny heard the muffled garble of a television set she hadn’t realized was on blare suddenly loud from the recesses of the ranch, cheers of ‘Happy New Year!‘ over discordant symphony of paper horns blown in celebration conjuring images of ceremonial ball reaching the denouement of its annual journey to the base of its pole into her mind unbidden.

On cue, somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock solemnly chimed to announce the turn of the hour.  

And there stood teary-eyed, gaping mouthed Jestiny — some bizarre sex toy Cinderella whose impressive phallus turned back into a puddle of cheap plastic polymer at the stroke of midnight. 

“Well,” John’s bemused hum pierced through the cacophony rattling around inside Jessie’s brain as he peered past her to the spectacle of silicone bubbling down to black ooze in his fireplace. “I guess it isn’t always hard.”

“Fuck!” Her shout crumpled back into a weak whimper as plain splintered through her knuckles before she even realized she’d swung to strike the table. 

She kept fist loosely clenched and eyes glued to the grain of the table as John turned back towards her. 

She caught in her periphery the falling of his sly smile. His brow pinched inward as he looked back and forth between Jessie’s flushed, scrunched face and the empty rubber ring at the front of her crotch, his eyes softening with the most genuine look of sympathy she thought she’d ever seen him wear, a level of earnest compassion she would have thought him incapable of even faking properly.  

The kind of condescending pity that made her stomach curdle, made her blood boil hot as a melting strap-on. That she would normally lash out to reject, were she not already so thoroughly defeated and stripped of pride. 

“It’s alright,” John whispered softly, reaching over to give a few comforting pats to Jessie’s curled fist before bringing his hand up to cup her jaw and lift her chin, guiding her to look into gentle blue eyes. “It happens to everyone, sometimes.”

“That —” she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in gesture to the strap-on cremation still blazing strong behind her, drawing in a ragged breath, “has literally never happened to anyone before.”

“Well, it was... innovative,” John innovated the world’s first performatively horny purr that doubled as bland diplomacy to reply in, throwing his arms around her neck in embrace.

“We —” Her voice sounded so uncharacteristically small to her own ears as she stumbled over her words. “We can do other stuff. I can still finish you —”

“That’s alright. It was enough just to feel close to you,” John shushed, nuzzling against her neck. “All I want now is for you to carry me to the fireside and hold me.”

God, it was such obvious, manipulative fawning; such a poorly disguised consolation prize. She should storm out in offense. 

In no position to refuse consolation prizes, Jessie slid an arm beneath the bend of his knees, wrapping the other around his middle. She gave a slight grunt as she hoisted his weight, at this point truly just grateful she managed not to drop him on the short walk over to the bearskin rug she lowered him to sprawl atop. 

“You —” The impulse to counter with a comment that the firelight made him look much older from the shadows cast into the creases of his face extinguished itself as quickly as it sparked. “You would look even prettier by the light of a real campfire,” she muttered as she fell limp, allowing John to tangle their limbs as he saw fit. “That’s what we should do next New Year’s Eve. I hate being cooped up inside.”

“You always look so beautiful, bathed in firelight,” John sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“And do you envision our rugged adventures would begin with a first-class flight to the southern hemisphere?” he asked with a soft laugh, a hand smoothing along her sides. “I don’t have your outdoorsy expertise, of course, but I’d say it’s hardly pleasant camping weather around here.”

“It’s not so bad, actually,” she sighed pleasantly. “Pitching a tent in the dead of winter,” she continued, absentmindedly threading fingers through his hair. “So long as you —”

She coughed, clearing her throat and hiding her face and its burning cheeks against his chest as she finished the statement. “So long as you have the right equipment.”

She definitely should have just gone fishing.

#nsft #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #writies and wordies #hey at least i did manage to post it before january ended. still kinda the new year #i think maybe. they are good for each other #plot twist: SHE gets brat tamed. mostly by her own hubris but still. john dom moments they said i couldn’t do it. #also: jenna would reprimand me if i did not mention pure silicone will not melt like that. #assume jestiny is wearing a cheap blend regardless of how she refers to it #i also took some liberties with ranchsion redesign for this #in the actual game the platform of the hearth is raised and the guard does not have doors so this could not have happened #these are the only unrealistic parts of the fic.

[richmonds-disaster-bi]

Roy/Jaime: Jaime has to fly out somewhere or go up to Manchester and shares tender goodbye with Roy. When he's scheduled to come back, a terrible disaster happens like the plane he's supposed to be on or the train he's meant to take crashes with multiple fatalities. Roy is beside himself thinking Jaime's dead. In reality Jaime is safe and sound on another flight or a different train with his phone switched off. Roy is grief-stricken and has to be medicated and put to bed. Jaime comes home late at night, completely oblivious. He climbs into bed with Roy who is completely unconscious with plans to wake up first and make his man his favorite breakfast. I expect Roy to full on faint when he comes downstairs the next morning, still thinking his Tartt is toast, only to find said Tartt toiling away in the kitchen making him fucking crepes. Cue the chaos, especially when Jaime learns of what went down and everyone thinking he was fucking dead! This can be Roy/Jaime/Keeley too if you like!

This is heartbreaking and I love it

Jamie getting invited to do a little travel documentary type thing for a charity he's involved in regarding suports in underfunded areas across the world during the off season. He's sad to miss training but it's only for two weeks and he's excited to do this. Him and Roy have been together long enough that they're serious. Roy has even cleared space in his closet for Jamie's clothes. Their goodbye involves a lot of kisses, some inappropirate groping (Roy will miss Jamie's ass, Jamie will miss Roy's....) but Roy drops him at the airport and waits until Jamie disappears through security before he leaves and goes home but it doesn't feel like home without Jamie and he already wants him home.

Jamie is due to fly in during the evening about two weeks later, and Roy is in a good mood which the team is delighted about. They were worried he'd try the strings on dicks again with the mood he's been in. They're all in the conference room, watching a match to analyse the plays when Rebecca rushes in and grabs Ted. Everyone is confused, and then their phones start pinging and one of them rushes to switch the laptop to the news and suddenly they're all staring at the BBC coverage of a plan crash that currently has no survivors.....and it was flying from where Jamie was last filming to London.

Roy instantly goes into denial, and when Rebecca renters the room with Ted, he just goes "No, it's not his plane", depite the flight number matching with the screenshot Jamie had sent Roy of the flight details along with a text saying "So you don't strand me at the airport grandad". He refuses to believe it, and they all sit there in disbelief watching, waiting hoping until Keeley is there.

"Roy....we have to....we have to give a statement. People have gotten word of him...that he was....that Jamie was on the plane"

"No. It's not him"

"Roy, there's no survivors"

"No, fuck you, fuck you for thinking it. Jamie isn't....He's not..."

"Roy...."

"He's not Keeley, he's not...he can't be...he's not gone"

When the news reports that Jamie Tartt is among those that were on the plane along with some of the crew of the documentary....Roy finally snaps. He just goes catatonic, stops responding. He's panicking, and thats when his sister arrives and when she hugs him, he breaks. She's the one that gets him home the team, even in their grief, distrat the media that has gathered despite Rebecca theatening to sue them all, and she gives him something to help sleep before she hasto go collect Phoebe, but she plans to come back in the morning.

Jamie, on the other hand, had actually finished filming early and decided to go straigh to the airport to get an earlier flight. He didn't charge his phone, so it dies while roy kent

he's waiting in the lounge and playing games to distract himself. When the news hits, he's on the plane, and people had seen him boarding so in the chaos, no one actually checks the logs until after 24hours and by that time, Jamie had made it home.

Its about 3am when he does. The driver of his transport that was order hours before his phone died barely paid attention to him, so no one actually realises Jamie Tartt isnt dead and he hadn't had to go through passport control. So when he slips into bed with Roy, he has no idea about any of it.....until he's cooking breakfast and turns around to find Roy, pale and wide eyed staring at him and just whispering, "Did I....Did I die too?"

#roy x jamie #roy kent/jamie tartt #roy kent x jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #roy kent #jamie tartt

[raewritesf1]

Remember kids, peer pressure works 😃

Monaco Nights (title still under onsideration)

“Max.”

“Max!”

Something pressed into his side snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned, GP next to him, still staring down at the data on the laptop laid in front of him. But under the table his left hand was pressed into his sides

Ah, he thought looking around the table everyone staring back at him, he’d drifted off.

“I’m sorry Max is this debrief boring you? Is us trying to maintain a strong finish to the season interrupting your daydreaming?” Christian asked, aggressively tapping his pen against the table.

He could feel the eyes of the engineers warily flickering between him and Horner, confused by the sudden animosity. It’s not like it was the first time he’d drifted off during a team briefing, especially this season where there hadn’t been much to talk about given their performance.

Everyone could tell this was about something else. Things between him and Christian had been weird ever since they’d gotten back from the conference, and everyone had started to notice, though no one seemed to have any idea what exactly had happed. Well, apart from the Mercedes team who had not stopped sending weird looks his way since he stepped into the paddock on Thursday; which only ended up making his own team more suspicious. It was honestly all getting a little tiring.

“Sorry, I got distracted for a second.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What was the question?”

Horner open his mouth to retort but GP cut him off, clearly already tired of whatever this new found tension was. “We were analyzing the long run data and questioning If the extra added confidence from the suspension change is worth the extra 2 tenths we drop in race pace according to the simulator.” He answered, gesturing to something on the computer screen. “What are your thoughts?”

Max leaned closer, eyes scanning over his lap times. “No, I think the change is worth it. I felt like the rear was more under control after and wasn’t going to randomly step out when I was exiting the corners. Besides, I can definitely clean up these times.”

—

He was discussing tomorrow’s program with GP when a voice interrupted them. “Max could you wait for a second, I need to speak to you.” Horner said, sending a pointed look his way. It wasn’t a request.

Great, he thought, they were having this conversation again. Apparently, the near five hour lecture Horner had given him on the car and subsequent plane ride to Japan hadn’t been efficient enough, now he was going to spend the entire weekend chastising him about this. Fun.

Everyone else in the room paused, sending more questioning glances each other way, before slowly exiting the room till it was just them too.

“Look Max,” Christian said, and god Max was already getting flashbacks. “You know I have no interest in interfering in your personal life and especially not policing things like who you can and cannot date. But, when you not only go and bring your personal life into the workplace, but actively mix your personal life with your work, then I feel I have to get involved.”

“I’m not upset with you dating or whatever it is you’re doing with George, but I cannot have you being distracted during briefing because you’re too busy thinking about him. Yes, I understand the season has been rather straight forward, but that doesn’t mean we get complacent-“

“I was thinking about if I remembered to order a new thing of cat food for my cats before I left.” Max interrupted, massaging the bridge of his nose.

#this is a joke #I did not feel pressured to write this #i did actually get an idea after people started asking for a sequel #gax #george/max #my wips

[the-fiction-witch]

Track Suit

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Sexy

Concept Snug Track racing Suit

I finally finished the dishes so I left the kitchen heading to the living room sitting myself in my usual side of the sofa with my pillows grabbing my tea mug from the side having a sip of the still warm tea. I smiled as I set my tea down leaning over giving his cheek a kiss 

"Hi TomTom" I smiled

"Hey buttercup" he smiled giving me a kiss too before returning his focus to the TV and the motorbike racing on it

"I miss anyone crash?" 

"No, but you did miss a guy in the stands who dropped his beer down a girls shirt"

"Awww damn it." 

"Yeah you missed out" he says having his coffee 

"Would you ever go racing?"

"I mean pretty much every time I go out with Jack we race to some extent. Last time I beat him on a race from one end of Oxford Street to the other at peak tourism season on a hot sunny day."

"Ooohh what'd win?"

"Bragging rights." He shrugs "and a slushie" 

"What colour?"

"Don't you mean flavour?"

"I mean colour Thomas" 

"Red and blue"

"Classic" I nodded "but I mean like track racing?"

"Fuck no. I don't wanna die." He says "look at that look how far they have to lean knee pads to the pavement at god knows what miles an hour. No thank you"

"That's fair. But don't you go knees to the pavement at god knows what speeds on roads where you know there are other drivers and police men? Isn't a track environment safer?"

"No it blurs the lines with track racing you end up in shit. Plus I prefer watching it. Plus track racing is a fucking expensive hobby"

"... How's the flying lessons thomas?" I asked sipping tea 

"Okay that's an investment. Four more months I get a pilots license. I'd like to see what you'll do in an potential apocalypse when you need someone to fly a plane safely and legally. Yeah. Pretty fucked then aren't you ground girl" 

"I'd fly. Just not legally. Or safely. And not sure how to land but what goes up must come down so I'll land one way or another" I laughed "but that's a pretty expensive hobby"

"Not like track racing. I'd need a new bike. Need parts for the bike to modify it. I'd need track paperwork. The bike would need paperwork. I'd need new gear. Paying for the track. Then a trailer because you can't have a road legal track bike. Then a car to pull the trailer. Not to mention hotel stays and expenses to go to track meets" he explained "see expensive"

"You thought about buying us a new house so you could have a plane at home."

".... No comment"

I sat and watched for a while eager for a crash but nothing and as I watched I felt eager to ask a question "Tommy?"

For a moment he glanced at me suspiciously "I know that tone. What do you want?" 

"You have one of those motorbike outfits right?"

"I have gear. And so do you" 

"Noo I mean the like suit"

"You mean the track suits like them?"

"Yeah"

"I do yes. Why?"

"Could you wear it?" I suggested he gave me another look for a moment confused but then sly 

"For what?"

"For whatever" I shrug 

"Maybe later. If your good" he says kissing my head and returning his focus to the TV as did I for a while until I had another idea 

"Tommy?"

"Ummm?" He mumbled about to sip more coffee

"Can I wear it?" I asked 

Immediately he choked on his coffee "what?"

"Can I wear it?"

"My track suit?"

"Yes"

"... I don't think you'll fit in it buttercup"

"Why not?"

"It's snug on me"

"You calling me fat?"

"No! But you know. You have additions. In areas. I do not." He says glancing at my body 

"Can I try? Pretty pretty please Tommy?' I point 

"Fine. Cupboard under the stairs with the rest of the gear"

"Yay!" I smiled jumping up grabbing it from the rail in the cupboard and heading to the laundry room to get it on. Honestly he was right it was pretty damn snug, o mean this is basically a leather jumpsuit with some protective pads on areas, once it warmed up it was a little easier even if you could tell I was too big for it, I had to strip down to only my bra and panties to even get it on having to jump and swear a little to get into it. Once I actually got it on I tried to zip up the front zipper but I got to my waist and it would continue "ohh come on" I complained breathing in sucking my stomach in as much as possible getting it up to under my breaths no matter how much I squished the zip just would not go getting stuck on my bras bones so I removed the bra and management with some squeezing to zip it up just over my boobs I did have a fair bit of cleavage but anymore I was actually worried about busting the zip. 

"Tommy" I giggled opening the door

"I'm not looking" he sighed sipping his coffee so I went and stood by the TV trying to look as cute as I could he opened his eyes and saw me immediately doing a spot take of his coffee in shock his eyes wide looking over every inch of me "FUCK!" 

"Hi"

"Hi… I am genuinely surprised you got that on" 

"Yeah it's kinda tight and this as as high as the zip goes"

"Kinda tight? Buttercup you seem exposed to me and I've seen you naked" 

"How does it look?"

"How does it look? It looks like you just walked out of my nineteen year old fantasy"

"Really? Maybe I should get one for myself" I smiled doing a small spin making sure he saw me from behind

"Holy God! Did you paint that over your ass? Damn!"

"You really like it that much?" I giggled

"Y/n I am insanely hard just from the sight of you I think it's pretty damn clear I like it" he says just as the zip gave up and slid down to under my breasts leaving how I'd scooped them in the only thing now concealing them leaving my bare skin exposed

“Oops”

“Do you have to be so god damn sexy”

“I mean I’m not trying that hard”

“I know! God damn sexy girlfreind. I will say its not very safe. I mean you came off the bike dressed like that I don’t think its really gonna protect you that much. Mostly because I think the slightest bit of pressure anywhere the whole things gonna bust open like an overstressed dam”

“But sexy”

“Sexy does make a compelling argument” He nods 

“I think I look great” 

"I have a really strange request" he says unable to remove his eyes from me 

"Yes Thomas?"

"... Can you let me film you on my phone like that? Possibly with a helmet under your arm? And even more possibly with you saying 'you look like you need a good ride'?" He asks 

"...why?" I giggled

"To look at. When I'm working away."

"So to masturbate to?" 

"Yes" 

"...fine, if you buy me my own little suit?"

"Done!" He agreed 

#tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas sangster #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #tbs

[iamprchung]

Zuzu's Petals: Part 2 (2/11)

Assistant Director Walter Skinner's plan to discreetly play speed dial Santa on gift-drop mission for Scully, leads to him being drawn into the Scully family celebration, forging an unexpected camaraderie.

Part 2 of "Zuzu's Petals" unfolds with the messy, real-life charm of a holiday gathering, where twinkling lights and festive cheer give way to genuine connections and the unpredictable spirit of the season. Join the Scullys and Skinner for a holiday adventure that embraces the imperfect beauty of family gatherings.

This fiction and more, plus extra content, is available on my site SkinnersBriefs.com, one of the oldest original and continuously maintained X-Files fan fiction sites.

**Author's Notes: This was originally the missing holiday from the Complimentary Mints series, but I never got around to finishing it and now I think it's too late to throw a new section into the series. So I've revamped this story and here it is-- just in time for the holidays (once again).

Zuzu's Petals: part 2 by PR Chung

The front yard was lit up like-- well it was lit up like a Christmas tree, Scully amusedly thought and grinned broadly as she got out the car and took in the hundreds of white lights wrapped around every tree and over every shrub in front of her mother's house.

"Did you know about all this?" Bill asked his sister, going around the back of the jeep.  

"Oh, God, no," Scully chuckled, "when did she get all this done? It's never been like this before."

Bill laughed and shook his head, opening up the car hatch to get the presents out. "She's going to divert planes from Dulles," he joked and held a box out to Scully.

"It's not that bad."

"Didn't say it was bad," Bill countered good naturedly, hesitating over one of the presents. "Looks like some of your bows are coming off here, Dana."

She checked the reported damage as he handed the box to her. "Nothing too serious, I'll fix it inside."

"Dana!"

Not half in the door and Scully stopped, seeing Maggie making her way through the press of guests congregated in the narrow hallway, with a smile that was eager and alive with warmth and delight. "Oh Dana, you look so pretty."

Scully gave her mother a speculative glance, grinning in spite of her embarrassment. "I'm not wearing a graduation dress or anything," she laughed and looked down at the simple sweater and slacks she'd hurriedly thrown on once she'd run out time doing her hair and makeup.

"I'd think you were beautiful in a potato sack," Maggie insisted, and hugged her daughter tightly.

"Been hitting the eggnog a little early, Mom?" Bill teased, grinning a grin that always came off as a sneer.

Maggie looked up at her towering son, and lazily swatted at his arm. "That's no way to talk to me," she warned him half seriously, then grinned wryly, "even if it is true."

"Mom," Scully chided in a gasp, delightfully surprised by her mother's mischief.

While her mother and Bill took gifts into the living room, Scully lingered in the hall to take her coat off and basked in the sights and sounds, and the wonderful smells surrounding her. There was music coming from the living and the sound of conversations all around her, and rich, happy laughter. The house was brimming with old friends and fresh faces, everyone enjoying themselves. A gorgeous and inviting buffet had been set up in the dining room and an impromptu bar had come together in the kitchen where Scully could see that her brother Charlie was happily playing bartender. Everything was warm and bright, and smelled of tasty food and the nostalgic scent of the Christmas tree that was positioned before the large front window.

Scully watched Bill and her mother arranging gifts under the tree and felt something tug at her insides; it was the guilt of forgetting the gifts for Bill's family. She hoped they wouldn't read tags, at least until Skinner showed up-- And just when was he showing up, she wondered anxiously, edging her eyes toward the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~ @ ~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding the house hadn't been difficult, Margaret Scully's front yard was a blaze with enough lights to put a strain on the hardiest of power stations-- missing the address would have been an effort-- but finding a place to park had been Skinner's real dilemma.

The street was packed, and every driveway was crowded with no less than four cars; nearly every house on this block had to be having a party. And here he was cruising around with gifts in tow and no parking spaces, like a department store Santa late for work at the mall on Christmas Eve.

Skinner adjusted the brim of his ball cap in frustration as he turned off the block for the second time. Why in the hell was he bothering, he wondered. Double-park, run the damn bag up to the door, sit it on the porch, knock and leave; simple as that.

No, not as simple as that. Skinner exhaled and propped his arm on the car door. He could be a hard ass, but he didn't need to be a rude ass to boot.

Park and call her-- Call her and drive by, maybe she could just come out to the car-- Skinner gritted his teeth, feeling like a jackass. If dumping the bag on the porch and hauling ass like a coward wasn’t rude enough, then making her run out to the street was even worse.

Before he could make himself feel anymore confounded or lousy about himself, Skinner spied an open parking space. Slowing the car, he ran his tongue against the inside of his bottom teeth while he glared at the parking space, deliberating what he should do; park or drive by? Headlights suddenly swinging into his rearview mirror was incentive enough-- Skinner took the space.

Managing a quick and sloppy parallel parking job, Skinner shut off the motor and watched the other car pass before he called Scully's cell phone. It rang longer than usual, and he was ready to hang up when she answered.

"It's me," he announced, his voice tinged with displeasure for the fact, "I'm down the block from the house. You want to meet me out front?"

Scully didn't say anything for a second, then answered in a whisper, "Sure, I'll be outside waiting."

Skinner ended the call and got out, feeling satisfied with Scully's apparent empathy; he wasn't thrilled about doing this and she was trying to make it as painless as possible. But was it her concern for him, or for herself? Judging by the hush of her voice on the phone, Skinner considered that Scully could be trying to save herself embarrassment by keeping this gift drop a secret, forgetting the gifts of a loved one and their family in the boss' car doesn't exactly ring of thoughtfulness.

Then there was the fact of where she forgot the gifts. Scully's family might start asking questions; curious why she was taking rides with the boss and warning her about those inherently risky office romances.

Skinner shook his head as if to help get rid of the thought. It wasn't like he was handing her a bag of panties she'd left in the back seat, just a bag o'gifts. He glanced dismally at the bag in his hand, "definitely not panties."

Just as she said, Skinner found Scully standing outside her mother's house-- shivering on the front steps. Approaching the porch, he could hear the sounds of a party fully underway from inside and saw through the big picture window the telltale signs of people merrily meandering around inside.

"Where's your coat?" He asked her first thing, then hesitated as she came into full view before him. He was surprised, and suddenly felt like a bum compared to her. She wasn't wearing anything outlandish or extravagant, simple white sweater and dark slacks, but up close now he discovered Scully was wearing a good deal more makeup than he was used to seeing on her, and her hair... well, it was all poofed up.

She looked gorgeous.

"I didn't want to advertise what I was doing," she answered.

"And standing out here to meet me isn't advertising?"

Scully threw a brief glance over her shoulder at the house and shrugged, turning back. "I don't think anyone has missed me yet," she said and made a zuzzing sound as she shivered. "Where did you park?"

"End of the block. Everyone on this street must be having a party tonight," he criticized, glancing toward the street.

Scully followed his gaze, then looked at him, saying "you know I would have come down to the street if you just wanted to stop out front. You didn't have to go to the trouble of parking."

Skinner tightened his mouth, inwardly kicking himself. "No need for you to be running down to the street, making this look like a drug drop."

Scully lifted her brows in half-baked amusement. "What a wonderful holiday sentiment, sir," she mocked a compliment and reached for the bag. "Thanks for doing this for me."

Before Scully could take it, and before Skinner could relinquish the bag, the front door came open. Maggie Scully struck her head out, her eyes darting over the two of them for a concerned and confused instant. "Dana, what are you doing out here?" she asked.

"I have to go," Skinner abruptly said and started to turn.

"Mr. Skinner?" Maggie called him, then, "Walter?"

Reluctance weighed his movements as he turned slowly back and offered a thin smile to the woman. "Yes," he answered. “Hello, Mrs. Scully.”

"How have you been? Dana, didn't mention that you were coming," Maggie chattered with warmth and delighted surprise saturating her voice. "I'm so pleased to see you could make it."

Skinner and Scully exchanged painful glances. He started to speak, but Scully got the first word in, "Mom, he was just leaving," she explained.

Maggie's peaceful expression sank into a frown. "I don't understand."

"I just stopped by to say hello, Mrs. Scully," Skinner noticed Scully's quick contrivance.

"Well, standing out here in the cold to say hello is senseless," she said, disapproving of the scene. "Come inside and have something to eat-- have a drink."

"I can't," Skinner begged off.

"You must," Maggie insisted.

"Mom," Scully scolded her mother gently.

"Really," Skinner shook his head again, pocketing his hands in his jacket. "I'm not dressed for this. I should go--"

"You look fine to me, Walter," Maggie assured him confidently and hooked her arm with his, "Come on, before both of you catch pneumonia out here." She urged him to walk with her, with first a gentle tug and then a more forceful pull.

Looking at Scully for support-- and finding only an apologetic grimace, Skinner finally yielded to her mother's demands.

Entering the house on Maggie Scully's arm, Skinner was greeted with a warmth that was almost too much after being in the chilled night air. He was suddenly eager to remove his parka in spite of his plan to excuse himself quickly, but before he could make a move either way people began to welcome him and introduce themselves. Everyone seemed to want to be acquainted with the man at Maggie's side; any friend of hers was obviously a friend of theirs.

Then, as Skinner was finally removing his parka and hat, Bill Scully ambled down the hall. The oldest Scully offspring eyed the man skeptically at first, then with a flicker of recognition moved in closer. "You're Dana's boss?" he asked.

Skinner seemed leery and Bill broke a broad grin and extended his hand. "Bill Scully, Jr.," he said, as if to jog Skinner's memory. "We met a while back."

Skinner remembered, but neither of the men seemed willing to mention the circumstances under which they had first met. Even though Scully's cancer had gone into full remission-- a miraculous thing in itself, and great cause for celebration, bringing up that challenging time for the family didn't seem proper.

"Walter Skinner," he reintroduced himself, shaking Bill's hand.

Scully looked on, pleasantly surprised by the apparent rapport her brother and Skinner had with one another; it was almost stunning in contrast to that which existed between Bill and Mulder-- or rather, she corrected the thought, didn't exist.

As Scully watched Skinner being drawn deeper into the midst of the party, she started feeling less guilty about him being drawn into a situation he didn't want to be in, and started to feel more like maybe this was something he needed.

~~~~~~~~~~~ @ ~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

Comments are super welcomed.

#skinner #the xfiles #the x files #walter skinner #scully #skinner scully fanfic #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #legacy xfiles fanfic

[bitletsanddrabbles]

From the Scrap Pile

Came home early from work today. Bad habit, I should stop it, but ergh. Slow season is slow....and slowly driving me crazy. Anyway, end result is that I'm trying to guess what my cat wants (except for 'something else') and trying to poke my brain into writing a few sentences on something.

So far all I've done is decided to scrap one of the Poly!Thomas Modern AU pieces I'd had a premise for, but no actual plot. I may revisit it at some point, once I've...you know...figured out what I'm doing with that 'verse....possibly actually finished a thing... but this version isn't worth fussing over.

I do like this bit, though. It's what actually prompted me to start the story in the first place, so before I move the file away and forget about it, I figured I'd post it here:

Guy lounged next to the pool, basking in the California sun. His doctor had warned him a million times about skin cancer and yes, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He simply loved the sun. The end result was, of course, that he also had sunscreen that was practically prescription strength. He heard the door to the house slide open, then shut, and looked up. “Oh, hello,” he greeted, mildly surprised. He’d known who it was, of course. There were only two other people with keys to the house, and one of them was on a plane. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Myrna padded barefoot across to the pool, apparently oblivious to how hot the tiles were. Her new love of early Hollywood fashion didn’t extend to swimwear, apparently, because she was wearing a perfectly modern bikini. She shrugged and dropped into the lounge chair next to him. “I would have called, but I fig’red I own ‘alf the ‘ouse, and with Thomas gone, you’d probably be all by your lonesome.” She helped herself to a bottle of sparkling water out of the cooler sitting between them. “I can go, if you want.”

“Mm, I don’t mind.” Guy smiled, laying back again and closing his eyes. “As you said, you own half of the house.” Technically they had a floating timeshare on the house in Hancock park and they traded off who lived there based on who was in California at the time. They each had rooms marked as ‘theirs’, even when they were gone, and in instances like this one where they were both in town, they generally acted as house mates. This time, however, Myrna had agreed to take a hotel and give Guy some privacy with his new boyfriend.

Thomas had gotten on a plane back to England that morning, however, his generous holiday leave having run out, leaving Guy to his own devices until he found more work or the interest in ‘The Gambler’ died down enough that he could stop giving interviews and make it back to his estate in Yorkshire. He rather hoped it was the latter. He didn’t want to test his relationship with Thomas that heavily in the first few months. Still, in the meantime he was, as Myrna had put it, all by his lonesome. “Did you want to move in for a bit?” he offered. “Stop paying for a room when you have a perfectly good one here?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” the actress replied with an audible shrug. “’Ow long you planing on staying then?”

“Not long, if I can help it.”

Apparently following his earlier thought process, Myrna guessed, “Back to England as fast as you can?”

Guy just smiled in reply.

“Says a lot when you’ve found a guy who means more to you than the sun and a pool.”

“It does.”

For awhile the two of them simply sat, enjoying the quiet. There were birds out there, somewhere, although the seagull was the only one Guy could identify. When Myrna did break the silence, her voice was a lazy, sun drenched drawl. “What do you see in ‘im?”

Guy opened his eyes and sat up a bit, giving her a puzzled look. “Who, Thomas?” When she nodded in return, he helped himself to a drink and settled back against the lounger, still frowning. “I never thought I’d have to explain that to you,” he muttered, feeling oddly betrayed. He and Myrna weren’t the closest of friends, perhaps, but they’d worked together enough to buy this house and spark rumors of a deeper relationship through all of the gossip networks. He’d have thought she’d have known him well enough not to question.

“You don’t ‘ave to,” Myrna protested, her voice still calm. “I’m jus’ curious is all.” She paused, then explained, “If anyone else walked up to me with Thomas Barrow in tow and said ‘’ere now, this man has two boyfriends already, but I’m going to date ‘im anyway’, I’d take one look at those cheekbones and say ‘Of course you are’ and that would be that.”

The mouthful of water Guy had just taken nearly wound up sprayed across the pool deck, possibly into the pool itself.

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #guy dexter #myrna dalgleish #frank discussion of thomas's cheekbones

[walkingintheheartbreaksatellite]

Close To You(Harry Styles x oc)

It started in the early morning. 6:45 am to be precise. It was a chilly Albuquerque morning, and the balloons were going up, as they always did that early. Leaving the house as soon as she could, starting the 20 minute drive to work like she did every day. Arriving at work with no problem, she was immediately called into her boss, Sofia's office.

"Em, could you come in here for a sec? And close the door?"

Emily's pov

I slowly walked into Sofia's office, closing the door and sitting down.

"Did I do something again?"

The older woman chuckles and shakes her head.

"No. But I wanted to talk to you. Do you remember when Christopher said we were expanding into Europe?"

I nod my head, briefly remembering the conversation.

"Well, they want you and a few drivers to go to London for a couple months to start up. Your position would be my current one. The company is paying for your living space and travel, you are responsible for anything else. Interested?"

Wow. That's... not what I thought she was gonna talk to me about.

"U-um yeah I'd love to! When do I leave?"

She smiles.

"At the end of the month. You'll be in charge of everything and everyone there. I know you'll do great."

I smile and thank her. After that, the month flys fast. I pack what I need and it's shipped to my new flat and anything else goes into my mom's garage. On the day I leave, I meet the 2 drivers coming with me, Jackson and Adam, at the airport. At 4:30am. It's already too early and I need coffee.

"You guys ready for this?"

The two men tiredly nod and we trek to our gate after checking our bags. After about 30 minutes we begin boarding our flight. The attendant scans my boarding pass.

"Miss, it seems you've been upgraded to first class due to availability. Enjoy your flight!"

Adam, Jackson and myself just share a look and proceed ahead. I find my seat and holy crap it's nice. They find theirs in economy and we part ways. I take my seat and pull out my iPad, briefly starting to get some work done. The plane takes off and soon we land in LAX. The flight is a straight trip but I guess they had to pick up more people. I decide to put my work away and watch Demon Slayer instead. I pay no mind when I see from the corner of my eye, someone take the seat next to me. Jackson comes over to me to chat for a minute at that moment as well.

"Hey Em, do you have all the addresses for where we are staying? Ryan forgot to send it to us."

"Yeah. We're all in the same place, just separate units. We'll be fine."

He nods and briefly looks at my screen.

"Really? Demon Slayer again?"

I flip him off and he laughs and returns to his seat. After a couple minutes, the person next to her speaks up.

"Is it good? What you're watching?"

I take out my headphones and turn to the stranger, about to reply, when I see his face and my mouth drops.

"I-I um yeah it is. I-I like it."

He smiles and holds out his hand to me.

" 'M Harry."

I smile and shake his had. I'm pretty sure he could tell I was shaking.

"I-I'm Emily. I-it's nice to meet you!"

He laughs and I swear I could just die after hearing that sound.

"Y'must know who I am."

I nod and blush.

"I love your music. Always makes me feel better and brings a smile to my face."

He smiles.

" 'M glad to hear that. Love makin music and gettin to share it. Means a lot t'me that it helps s'many."

I nod and we talk for a bit. I don't think I've ever actually had this meaningful of a conversation with anyone before.

"S'what are you watchin? Looks interesting."

"Oh um that? Oh it's just an anime that I like. I've seen it multiple times. I guess I just like watching it."

I giggle and he smiles, filling my stomach with butterflies.

"Would y'mind if I watched with you?"

I nod my head and hand off an AirPod to him, moving my iPad in the middle so we could both see and I hit play. Somehow, through the flight, we finished season one and part of Mugen Train before we finally land. And I don't think I have ever been more disappointed. We both got up but before he walked away, Harry turned to me.

"I don't usually do this, but I want to see you again. Would y'want to maybe... exchange numbers? J-just as long as you promise not t'give it out...?"

"Y-yeah I'd love to! And I'd never do that! That's a betray of trust and that's one thing I refuse to do to anyone!"

He smiles and takes my phone, putting his number in it.

"Text me love. Would love t'get coffee with you sometime." I smile and nod, waving him goodbye as I wait for Jackson and Adam to meet me up front. I see them come up and Jackson is grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"Shut it Miles. I don't want to hear it."

The two men laugh as we make our way out of the plane to baggage claim. I look around briefly for Harry and obviously I don't see him, causing disappointment to show on my face. So I decide to pull out my phone to text him.

E- Hi Harry! It's Emily!😊

H-Couldn't wait could y'love?😉

E-I  could've! I'm just waiting at baggage claim and the two idiots I'm traveling with are teasing me!😒

H-Yeah? S'not nice. Should I come steal you away?

E-Ha! As much as I would love that, I have to get the three of us settled in and dispatch them. Maybe coffee tomorrow?

H-Sounds great! I know a great place! I'll text you the address😊 See you tomorrow love

E-See you tomorrow❤️

TIME SKIP BECAUSE MY BRAIN DIED

It's been a couple months since I met Harry. And everyday with him is amazing. We both work quite a bit but still manage to see each other a couple times a week. But unfortunately... I'm going home soon. With the hiring of more staff, I'm not needed and they want me to come home. And now I have to tell Harry. I'm waiting for him at our usual spot and I see him come up to me. I stand up and meet him halfway, walking into his warm embrace.

"Missed you love."

"Missed you too."

He caressed my cheek and kissed my forehead. I forced a small smile.

"Y'okay love? Look a little down."

"Y-yeah I'm fine. But we do need to talk."

He looks at me with concern as I lead him to our table and we sit down.

"So you know how I've been telling you how well things have been going with setting up the new branch?"

He nods his head in acknowledgment.

"Well... it's done. There's new staffing and multiple drivers... so they want me back home."

We sit in silence for just a minute.

"When... when d'you leave?"

"In 3 days...Look Harry... I don't want this to be the end of whatever this is between us. I like you. And these past couple months? You made me feel so alive. I've never felt this way before. I know this sounds corny but I don't want this to be the end of you don't..."

He pauses for a minute and bursts out laughing. I look at him in confusion.

"How do you always seem to take the words out of my mouth?"

He pauses for another minute.

" 'course I still want t'see you. I love spending time w'you. We'll work it out somehow."

He takes me out of my chair and hugs me tight. He pets my head and I start crying.

"Shhh. It's okay love. M'not lettin you go that easily. You're stuck with me."

"But I'm gonna be in New Mexico! And you're still trying to write your album!"

"You're forgetting about something though."

I just look at him in complete and utter confusion. Those are the facts though... how could I be forgetting something?

"How often have you FaceTimed y'mum while you've been here?"

"I don't know- probably like a good couple dozen- ohhhh! Duh!"

He laughs and hugs me tighter.

"Know it's not ideal but we'll make it work. And I'll come visit you o'course. Can't go long without my muse, now can I? Never get the album finished without you." I blush and bury my head in his chest, causing him to chuckle.

"I'm know you would do an amazing job finishing it. You don't need me for inspiration Mr. I like to write songs about sex."

He chuckles and lifts my head up, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

"Course I do. I've written 2 songs already. Because of you. So I definitely need you. So stop thinkin so little o'yourself."

I nod, tearing up a little.

"Will you come see me off?"

He smiles and lifts me up.

"Really think I wouldn't? I'd never give up the chance t'see you, even if it is goodbye."

He kisses my nose, making me smile.

"Let's go get you packed up, yeah?" He grabs my bag and leaves a tip for the waiter.

"Wait you're gonna help me pack?"

"Course I am. Gotta get my time with you while I have you. And besides, we need to finish Edens Zero, don't we?"

I chuckle and nod my head. As excited as I am to go home to my family and my regular day to day life, I hate that I have to do it without Harry there with me. These past couple months have been amazing and he makes everything more fulfilling.

TIME SKIP TO THE AIRPORT

I woke up early this morning and I'm not ready to leave. Harry came to see me off though. I grab his hand and pull him off to the side.

"Something wrong love?"

I take a long deep breath.

"No... I just. I want to tell you something. I want to get it off my plate before I leave... Harry... I love you. And I know this is probably way too soon to say but- I just wanted to tell you. And I totally understand if you-"

Before I can finish, he grabs my face and kisses me. I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of his lips against mine. After a minute or so, he slowly lets go. He lets out a chuckle.

"Sometimes... I swear... you talk s'much that no one can get a word in."

I blush and bury my face in his chest until he pulls me out and places his finger under my chin, lifting my head up.

"I love you, Emily. I mean it."

I start to tear up a little.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Dunno, because I am an angel."

He batts his eyes at me and flashes that smile that I love so much.

"Oh hush. I try to be cheesy and you decide to be cheeky."

He chuckles and hugs up and we don't let go until they call for boarding for my flight home. He kisses me once more and I let the tears fall down my face. As soon as we let go, he wipes my tears with his thumb and smiles at me.

"Promise y'text me when you're home?"

I nod my head and give him one last hug and I let go, letting the tears fall.

A COUPLE WEEKS LATER

Things have gone back to normal for the most part. I'm back to doing my old job. It hasn't been too bad. But I miss Harry like crazy. We FaceTime at least 3 times a day and talk on the phone almost every second. He's been singing me to sleep recently and honestly I always wake up refreshed in the morning because of it.

Right now, I'm sitting at my desk, entering orders, when I see a name flash across my phone screen. I smile and answer.

E- Well hello there handsome

H-Hi love! What're y'doing later this week?

E-Oh, you know, the usual. Working and going to my sisters this weekend I think. What are you up to?

H-Oh, you know, just planning a trip to go see my favorite girl this weekend.

My eyes go wide.

E-REALLY?!

He laughs.

H-Mhm... Mum and Gemma wanna meet you. So... they were gonna come with... if that's okay...

E-I-I'd love to meet them! But isn't it too soon? I mean we haven't even made anything official...

H- That's what I said! But according to Gem, I refuse to shut up about you so they are insisting on meeting you.

I let out a little chuckle.

E- I guess if I'm meeting them, you should meet my mom and my sisters... well... some of them.

H-We'll be in Thursday. I'm booking hotels for mum, Gem and Jeff.

E-I'm sorry... are you expecting to stay with me?

H- I mean-

I let out a loud snort.

E- I'm kidding. Of course you can stay with me. But it's only a one bed so you can sleep with me or on the couch. I'll ask for Friday off and see if Sofia will approve it.

H-Don't worry bout that. We'll probably sleep Friday and explore later.

E-text me your flight details and I'll come get you Thursday after I get off. I can't wait to see you!

H- Me too love. I love you

E-Love you too Harry.

We hang up and I get back to work, never letting the smile leave my face for the rest of the day.

Special thanks to @puffpasstea for encouraging me to write this! Ily!😭

What did you guys think? Let me know!

You can also read this story on my Wattpad! I update on there first!

https://www.wattpad.com/user/Emilywantstopanic?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_profile&utm_campaign=invitefriends&wp_page=home&wp_uname=Emilywantstopanic&wp_originator=o7eOz3sk5SD6Qljiga4LelFEd7tJ0DJxeFaPHUJGEnK9YD7yyceicZVZ0Yu6D9ZHwEudjMK%2FjppS7oWgVoCf5hhxvNpUdhmIoYioGiymhQzrRSlSqG7W8SXvmRAP4hSc

2367 WC

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc

[alarrytale]

“Harry really isn't bothering to spend much time with Louis. He's been in London for well over a month now.”

I’m always wondering how these anons know for sure that they don’t spend much time together or just try to convince others that because they both are working rn so it means there might be some problems or even they broke up because one isn’t following the other like a puppy (=Louis is on tour and so Harry should be MIA to be with him). Here’s a little timeline as I remember it:

After LOT ended he spend like 2 weeks in Italy while Louis had to finish his US tour. Then Louis has been spotted in NY airport like 2 days after his tour ended. Harry then went MIA for couple of days until his last pap photos from Italy and we don’t know when he came back to London but we knew for sure he was back that week when he fully start his ‘I’m on a break but not really, it’s stunt season!’ when he went to that theatre press event (Wed) and 2 days after (Thu, Fri) he’s been spotted stunting in centre. Louis has been still MIA but on Monday Tomlinson sisters dropped birthday party photos where Louis was so obviously when Louis has been spotted in NY airport he was about to board to fly to England. Then both of them were MIA for whole week until Louis flew to Italy because of AFHF and Harry was still MIA. And then Harry has been seen almost every day while Louis was MIA but I’m sure he was in London all the time chilling after tour and waiting for Harry to come home every day ‘cause he was working during the day…. So august was pretty much a month when they were together. Now Harry’s been MIA for few days so maybe he flew to see Louis for a day and came back, they are both rich and Louis is currently like 1-2,5 hours away from him by plane so Harry can pretty much decide to see him when he wants to/doesn’t have to work.

Plus c’mon, they have phones and FaceTime exists - they are in contant basically every single hour texting each other or doing calls in the evening but that’s a communication noone will see.

Hi,

I know. They've seen each other more in the last month than they have the rest of the year combined i reckon (i'm just guessing here). And it's going to be easy for them to see each other alot, at least until new years.

Also, thanks for the timeline! I think some might need a reminder. I suspect some of these asks are from trolls or antis who just wants to stir up shit. Or it might be a larrie who just needs a bit of reassurance. Actually looking at the timeline will help with that, so thanks again!

#larry evidence

[f1]

Unwell Piastri did Azerbaijan GP weekend on four pieces of toast | RaceFans Round-up

In brief Baku “very difficult physically” for Piastri Unwell Piastri skipped McLaren’s media session after finishing 10th in Saturday’s sprint race in order to recuperate. He missed out on the points again in the grand prix, taking 11th, but said he felt in better shape. “Today’s probably been the best I’ve felt all weekend, which isn’t saying much,” Piastri told media including RaceFans after the grand prix. “It’s been very difficult physically, especially yesterday it was pretty rough. “I think I had about four pieces of toast for the whole weekend. So I need to get some food back in me before Miami. It’s been been tough, happy to see the end of it, but I still learnt a lot today on tyre management and stuff like that. So we’ll have a look and see what we can do better next time.” Verstappen “let himself down” – Russell George Russell said he doesn’t need an apology from Max Verstappen over his outburst on Saturday following the collision between the pair in the sprint race. “I think he’s a two-time champion, leading the championship again at the moment, it doesn’t bother me, but he probably lets himself down a little bit with those sort of comments,” said Russel. “Max is a super good guy, great, great driver it’s just words like that are just a bit unnecessary.” Following his profane rant at Russell in parc ferme, Verstappen referred to him as “princess George” in interviews with Dutch media. Russell was unmoved when he reviewed footage of their collision. “To be honest, I was a bit underwhelmed at how little everything was,” he said. “I was expecting it to be a lot more. Obviously, there was a bit of contact, as there often is up and down the grid on lap one. So I was expecting a bit more.” Martins disqualified Martins’ luckless season continued in Baku Victor Martins has been disqualified from the Formula 2 feature race in Azerbaijan after a technical infringement on his ART car, losing his highest points-scoring finish of the season so far. The stewards ruled his car was in breach of Article 4.3.13 of the technical regulations, which states no part of car floor fins’ lower edge can be below the reference plane or more than 10mm above. The technical delegate said the floor fins were 3.4mm below the reference plane. Martins’ disqualification drops him from joint 11th to 15th in the championship. Frederik Vesti gained his fourth place, ahead of Kush Maini, Dennis Hauger, Isack Hadjar, Richard Verschoor, Jak Crawford and Arthur Leclerc, who took the final point. Crash raises concern over “unsafe” WEC tyre warmer ban Antonio Fuoco’s crash during Saturday’s World Endurance Championship race has prompted more drivers to speak out over the series’ decision to ban the use of tyre warmers. “It can’t be ignored that top class drivers have been struggling with cold tyres since testing of these cars began, and is the energy saved on those tyre warmers less than the cost of crash damage that has been accumulated?” asked Jack Aitken on social media. The former Williams F1 driver said the fact tyre warmers are not permitted in other series does not prove WEC can easily do the same. “IMSA run the same tyres, we’ve just been blessed with hotter ambient temps so far,” he said. “Daytona when it was cold was something. Other series with different tyres and usually much lighter cars cannot be compared, they are not the same.” “Yes, there are soft and hard [compounds],” he added. “However, if you choose the soft to get an ounce of grip (warm-up was still very, very difficult) you cripple yourself by running a tyre that cannot live with the high energy demands of a track like Spa. Like, unsafe levels of wrong choice.” New deal for Barber Barber Motorsports Park will remain on the IndyCar calendar for at least the next four years. The series announced a new contract to continue racing at the venue until 2027. via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

#F1 #Unwell Piastri did Azerbaijan GP weekend on “four pieces of toast” | RaceFans Round-up #Formula 1

[awrldalone]

30th September 2022, 3.58pm

Autumn here is quicker, colder. The temperatures dropped fast, leaving no space for the smells of my childhood. The warm dusty leaves, the wild chestnut, the last rays of a fading season; bright persimmons, fragrant bunches of grapes; the pages of brand new textbooks. 

All the smells which remind me of the beginning of school are overpowered by the prickling cold. My nose burns when I inhale, my hands get red unless I shove them in my pockets and time is running too fast. My fingers have gotten thinner, sometimes rings slip to the ground in a golden tinkling.  

I have been exploring the city more - getting to know where everything is, connecting each building to the other. I have almost finished constructing a mind map of this area of the city: at the end of the day, despite my university not having a real campus, everything is close. 

There is a park, which covers quite a bit of ground. I discovered it fully Wednesday, when I was running in fear of being late for a lecture. It had rained, the path was slippery, the sky covered in grey grey clouds. I walked through the wet trees, the fallen leaves,  and I saw some fawns. There were four of them. Two were the color of reddish nuts, their fur the usual color of a young stag, but the other two were white. I looked at them peacefully eating grass. Then, when they noticed my eyes on them, the fawns ran away with their thin, unripe legs. 

I also walked under several chestnuts, the trail covered in their spiky fruits and the dark, shiny seeds inside of them. Conkers are gems of wood, and if I could I would let my floors be made out of the same dark, glossy material. I should pick up a few of them to bring home the next time I pass through those trees.

Thursday classes were boring, and all I could think of was how much I wish I could have been reading. I started Les Rêveurs by Isabelle Carré, and for once I am enjoying a book in French. It feels so accessible, the language is simple yet balanced, smooth. I let the book down on a table outside, and the two pages facing down on the wood got all wet, wrinkly.

Yesterday night I cooked pasta with white wine, because V., E., V.’s sister and V.’s cousin finally arrived here. Their plane was late like mine. They all liked it, although I suspect it might have been because they were so tired, so hungry, that anything would have been delicious.

This morning I noticed that my tan line has faded. Every little sign of time passing - dust piling up, the trash filling up, yet another load of clothes to wash - a part of me dies. It makes me feel further and further away from him. His sweatshirt has not smelled like him since I went to Greece, and I am starting to forget his perfume. I hope we will see each other soon. He used to kiss me on the tan line, he said he liked it, while I did not.

Bjork’s new album is great. I saw mushrooms on the way to the gym this morning, and I took them as a sign - of what, I do not know yet.

Maybe I should start writing a book, one of those with no beginning nor end. I should just invent five characters and talk about their lives, the ways they intertwine, their hardships and joys, insecurities and prides. I should also sleep more.

-c.

#diary #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #light academia #light academia aesthetic #university

[owlixx]

CoD Notes: MW2 Beat

My notes last left off right at the start of Act 2 of Modern Warfare 2 (2009). The rest of “Wolverines!” was a little bit of a chore but not too bad. I was proud of taking down a helicopter with a nearby LMG instead of walking all the way across the level to get a rocket launcher like the objective marker told me too.

The favela escape mission is…fine. I definitely found the vertical fighting to be a bit annoying but the big parkour set piece at the end is neat.

The Stryker escort mission kind of sucks, I was half on my phone every time I told it where to shoot.

The oil rig mission is awesome of course except for that nasty part at the end where the thermal scope enemies really give it to you. The slow mo breaches are fun too of course. And I like when this game offers you a lot of different weapons at once.

The gulag mission was also just fine. I had honestly kind of forgotten that Price wasn’t already hanging out with us so I was a little confused for a second when he was the surprise prisoner. And that adds extra context to the Makataov gulag springing in the new MW3 (2023).

The Washington DC fighting is cool in this game. As a kid, I don’t think I appreciated the imagery of literally fighting enemy troops in front of the Washington monument.

The sub assault mission is fun, lots of predator drones, but I did kind of get stuck in the middle at one point. Also very funny that the AUG is an LMG in this game.

EMP mission is fun, feels very tense and high stakes. And then of course the White House mission is neat since you literally go through every inch of it.

The estate assault, file transfer, and subsequent escape were probably the most challenging part of the game for me. I did enjoy getting to see classic Ghost but I’m surprised by how small his part in this game is. Also I had totally forgotten about “Ramirez” and “Roach”, and I’m kind of surprised they haven’t tried to incorporate either character into the new games.

I had a much easier time with the scrapyard three-way battle than I did as a kid. I think back then I tried to kill every enemy, but here it was pretty easy to just run past 90% of them. And another fun set piece getting on the plane!

The cave assault was a little challenging, good test of my abilities here at the end. I did however really hate the boat section, I kept dying to stupid stuff. Although I did have a good laugh getting all turned around during the river rapids part.

And then of course the ending! A classic, very cool. Did not notice it literally took place on Rust as a kid but now it’s glaringly obvious.

I did also play a few matches of multiplayer. I was excited to be contrarian and try to use the blast shield, but it blocks your vision AND your minimap! I did use it long enough to get a challenge done by accident.

Speaking of, I do like the challenge layout in this game more than some of the recent ones, in terms of there being a defined number of clearly attainable goals to achieve. I feel like now it’s more about camo challenges, daily challenges, seasonal prestige challenges, but I had just been thinking about how there really ought to be something akin to the camo grind for perks and equipment. Not in terms of customization, but just in terms of keeping track of how much you use each and giving you an incentive to try them all. Here in MW2 2009, that’s just XP and maybe a calling card, but that’s enough to make me consider dropping the most used perks on my account since I already have the challenges finished for a couple of them.

I googled around for what weapon to use and settled on trying the UMP. I remember it being OP back in the day anyways and already had a class equipped with it. Felt pretty good! I managed to eventually start to go even on KD but I didn’t have any “on fire” matches. In fact, I even got nuked once. That’s when I kind of realized what an uphill fight it would be to try and level to max in one of these older games. Certainly not impossible, but there’s lots more noobs on the newer games.

It is wild to see these classic maps again after getting used to their MW3 (2023) versions. So much less colorful and detailed but more like how I remember them, of course. I wouldn’t mind maybe playing long enough to see them all but I also wanna move on with this mega playthrough.

I skipped WaW for now to save it for coop so it seems only fitting then to skip Black Ops 1 for now so that I can experience the entire classic MW trilogy back to back, then get to play Black Ops 1 and 2 back to back before moving on to Ghosts and then Advanced Warfare.

So overall, I liked Modern Warfare 2 a lot! It’s hard to objectively rank it compared to CoD 4 when I have such strong childhood memories of MW2 (I was 11!) and also when one was a remaster. I think MW2 certainly had bigger set pieces, more action, more classic unforgettable moments, but CoD 4 had a more cohesive, consistent experience. MW2 didn’t have infinite enemies as bad though so I think it wins the point.

#call of duty #CoD #mw2 2009 #modern warfare 2 2009 #call of duty modern warfare 2 2009

[kgreen200]

John's Gun

By KathyG

Summary: This story is set not long after the events in the first-season episode, “A Study in Pink,” and it follows soon after the events in my story, “Background Check”. John is wondering how he’s going to deal with the fact that his military-issued handgun is now illegal. He’s in for a surprise! (Thank you, Doomsteady and Jolie Black, for beta-reading my story! And thank you, sgam76, for your suggestions regarding my story.)

The door clicked shut behind John as he returned to 221B from his daily walk. Sherlock, he knew, was at Barts, conducting an experiment. It would probably be some hours before the consulting detective returned home. Trudging up the 17 steps, he entered the flat.

Emitting a deep sigh, John sank into the red plaid armchair; the mattress sank underneath him as he leaned back. The Union Jack cushion flattened against his lower back. It felt so good to be able to walk without a cane once more! That stupid bloody cane had made him feel so crippled.

After I’ve caught my breath, I’d better go upstairs and go through my paperwork, he thought, resting his arms on the armchair’s rests. And I probably need to clean my gun while I’m at it. He glanced briefly at the window. At least the rain which had poured through the night had stopped earlier, and the sun had come out, so the pain in his shoulder had subsided back to its usual dull ache. The sunlight poured in through the window, forming a rectangle on the carpet. John smiled, and then looked at the teapot on the kitchen counter. When I’m finished upstairs, I’ll make myself a cup of tea. He dropped his hands into his lap.

For the next several minutes, he reclined there, his hands clasped in his lap, reflecting on the events of the last several months, from the day he had been shot while treating a seriously wounded soldier during a retrieval mission to the days after he had moved into the flat with Sherlock. So much had happened within that time! Being shot while attempting to stabilize the critically-injured soldier; waking up in Selly Oak Hospital after being in a coma for several days (he didn’t even remember being a patient in the hospital at Camp Bastion, or the intensive-care airlift back to England, since he had been unconscious then); the operations at Selly Oak and all the rehab he’d had to undergo; the life-threatening complications he had been forced to endure; being discharged; and moving into a London bedsit on the outskirts of the eastern side of Greater London, south of the River Thames, and then, two months later, into 221B Baker Street with Sherlock, where he had immediately started solving crimes with his new flatmate.

Shifting position, John furrowed his eyebrows. And speaking of which—I can’t remember why I still had my gun when I was discharged. It should have been taken off him, as he knew, but since he had been still in the RAMC when he had been sent to England from Camp Bastion, apparently, no one had thought to do that. After all, once his shoulder had been initially operated on, and his condition had been stabilised at Camp Bastion, he had been sent by military transport plane to an airport in England, and from there, he had been taken by ambulance straight to Selly Oak. He wouldn’t have been required to turn in his service weapon until his discharge. My gun must have been packed with the rest of my possessions the whole time, he thought ruefully. As I would have discovered before my discharge, if I had unpacked my army pack a lot sooner!

To read the rest of the story, click below:

#One-Shot #No Slash #Canon-Compliant #gun - Freeform #gun permit #ex-military

[sho-moo]

Movie night!🍿

#owlhouse #amity blight #luz noceda #lumity #eda the owl lady #toh lilith #toh gus #toh willow #lilith clawthorne #toh hooty #i had planed to finish this when the new season dropped #but i completely forgot about it... #the owl house #my art

[neonlights92]

RUN: Chapter IV

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut.

A/N: SORRRRRRYYYYY!!!!

You were more confused than ever. 

When Jungkook had promised you a loveless marriage, you knew where you stood at least.

And now… Now what? 

He had kissed you and touched you - like no man ever had before - and now…. You were hungry for him. 

You’d always loved him of course.  Always longed for him.

But not like this.

Your mind kept replaying the other evening’s activities again and again.  Butterflies soared in your stomach just at the sight of Jungkook’s back. 

It was like you had unlocked a second part to your love - this one deeper, more visceral. 

It pained you to be close to him.  It pained you to be away from him.

And your husband…. 

Your husband acted like nothing was different.

In the weeks since that night, Jungkook went back to treating you as a friend.  He took you in his arms as soon as the lights went off - but apart from that, he didn’t touch you. 

You wondered if you’d done something wrong.  Had you offended him somehow? 

Was it because you hadn’t fulfilled your duty as you should? You wracked your brain again and again and again… But just came up empty handed. 

That night had been perfect.  Jungkook had been gentle and playful.  He treated you as though you were something precious to him.

Your heart swelled once again as you thought of the boyish grin he shot you… His fingers on your skin… His lips on your lips. 

God. 

You were like a woman obsessed. 

“Y/N?” 

You were pulled out of your reverie by your husband’s voice.  He was sat across the dining room table from you, his eyes scanning your appearance carefully. 

It seemed he had caught you out yet again on one of your day dreams…

It happened often these days.  Too caught up in remembering your husband’s touch, that you barely even noticed him when he was right in front of you.

“You seem distracted,” His smile was small, “Is everything ok?” 

You nodded and tried to smile back, “I’m fine.  Just uh… Tired.” 

He raised a brow but decided to say nothing, turning back to the sirloin steak he’d just been eating.

You speared a tomato onto your fork as you watched your husband eat, eyes following the planes of his handsome face and heart fluttering around your chest like a hummingbird.

Everything he did seemed to send you into a frenzy, and as his teeth closed around the piece of meat and you watched him swallow it down, your temperature sky-rocketed through the roof. 

Suddenly it was too hot.  You were seeing stars.  You felt like you might explode.

What on earth was wrong with you? 

You stood up quickly, chair scraping back loudly against the wooden floor, and Jungkook stopped what he was doing.

He dropped his fork and cocked his head to the side, “Everything alright?” 

You cleared your throat loudly, tucking your hair behind your ears and pressing your hands against your thighs. 

“Yes.”  You bit your bottom lip, “Yes.  Everything’s fine.  I just.  I’m not hungry.”

His eyes moved to your empty plate, “You’ve barely eaten anything.”

You laughed - the sound empty and hollow - and shrugged, feeling the nerves climbing up your spine.

Could he sense just how anxious you were? 

“I ate a big lunch.”  Your tummy coiled tightly, “I think I’ll just… Go.  To bed.” 

The word bed sent another rush of heat through you, and your cheeks flushed bright pink.  Jungkook’s face was a mask of neutrality.  He never gave a single thing away.

Why couldn’t you be the same?

Hadn’t you both been raised in the mob?

“Okay.”  He licked his bottom lip and your legs trembled at the sight, your hands reaching out to the edge of the table, to steady yourself, “I’ll come join you after I finish.”

You nodded tightly, moving away from him as quickly as possible. 

You felt his eyes following you, even as you left the room, but you refused to meet his gaze. 

That would mean things were truly over. 

Jungkook’s gaze could cut through you like a beam of light, almost.

It should’ve been embarrassing how he affected you.  And yet… You couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You reached your bedroom and entered quickly, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the cool surface of it’s wood.  You took deep breaths in, calming yourself down, and steadying your pulse now that you were alone.

Your husband was going to be the death of you. 

Jungkook seemed to have no idea what he was doing to you.

And you couldn’t blame him for not knowing.

You were being absolutely ridiculous. 

Weak at the knees from the sight of him eating? 

How old were you?

What was wrong with you? That wasn’t how a woman of your age acted.  It was ridiculous.

And yet… You couldn’t hate yourself for it.

Something about this newfound lust for your husband seemed to send the blood in your veins fizzing.  You felt like a new woman.  Like a lioness had been set free inside of you.

It was cheesy - completely absurd even - but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted your husband to ravage you.

You giggled at your own thoughts, moving towards the ensuite bathroom and running the warm water.  Maybe a bath would help you relax.

It felt like you’d spent the entire evening tense in your husband’s presence - waiting for him to do something that would set you off again - and now your muscles were paying for it.  

You dropped some lavender into the bath, and ran a bubble bar under the tap, watching as foam formed across the steaming water.  This was exactly what you needed. 

The water was heaven against your skin as you sank into the tub, closing your eyes and ridding your mind of your husband’s handsome face.  You could think about him later, couldn’t you?  

Except his long, slender neck kept materialising in your mind's eyes.  You watched again and again as he swallowed the steak, and then slowly it was you he was swallowing.  Your thighs rubbed against one another in some attempt to quell the heat you felt in your core.

But it was just the same as it had been the last few weeks. 

Soon you couldn’t keep yourself occupied anymore, and your hand started to slide towards the apex between your legs.  You imagined it was Jungkook’s fingers dancing across your skin, moving against you - lips covering as much as they could.

It wasn’t the same of course but it would do.

Your fingers finally reached their destination, and you arched your back, wishing it was your husband’s tongue on you.

“Jungkookie,” You breathed, giggling at the nickname you knew he hated, “Oh God.”

A throat cleared itself from behind you. 

You sat up - ramrod straight - and whipped your head around to find your husband himself standing in the open doorway, arms crossed.

“What was that you called me?”  His eyes were dark with lust, “Jungkookie?”

“Oh.”  The word slipped out of  your mouth without your permission, “What are you doing here?” “I came to check up on you.”  He hadn’t moved from his position at the doorway, “I was worried about you.  You were acting so strange at dinner.”  A smile that was somewhere between kind and cruel played on his lips, “Now I know why.”

Your heart was slamming against your chest, as you remembered exactly where you were.

Naked.  In a bathtub.

Your husband didn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t stop on my account,” He rose a brow, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You felt yourself trembling.  He was enjoying this. 

This… Game.

He was enjoying the way you burned for him.

“I - oh… God.”  You were mortified - but somewhere beneath the shame was something brighter… Harder, “I’m sorry.”

He licked his lips and finally, finally took a step towards you.

“What for?”  He shook his head and came towards the bathtub, kneeling down so his face was level with yours, “I’m flattered my wife masturbates to the thought of me.  You only needed to ask if you wanted my help.”

Your cheeks were blazing, but the look in Jungkook’s eyes was dampening your embarrassment.  

“I didn’t think… I wasn’t sure.”  You licked your bottom lip and his gaze snapped down to your mouth, “I wasn’t sure you wanted me like that.  Again.”

His eyes lifted to your own once more, and this time it was like they were on fire.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night Angel.”  His words were rough, coarse, “Believe me.  I want you like that again.  As many times as you want, actually.”

Your heart felt like it might rip itself out of your chest. 

His hand reached up to your face, and he stroked a finger down your cheek. 

You thought he might kiss you - you wanted him to kiss you so badly - but he pulled away after a moment, and his eyes disappeared down to your legs.  He couldn’t see you properly, not with the bubbles in the way, but he seemed to want to devour you.

“Can you touch yourself again for me?”  He asked after a moment, eyes sliding back up to your face, “I’ve never seen anything sexier.” 

You were sure you were about to hyperventilate. 

He had not just said that. 

He didn’t mean it.

He couldn’t, right?

Jungkook had been with some many more women before you - older, more worldly… Well seasoned.

And yet, his eyes were looking at you with absolute conviction.

You nodded after another long pause and he smiled - that smile that you loved - eyes crinkling into two crescent moons. 

He didn’t stand, as you thought he might, instead moving onto his knees and resting his chin on the edge of the bathtub.  

He nudged your hand and you started to move it down the length of your body, watching as Jungkook’s gaze stayed stuck on your fingers. 

“God.”  He whispered, as though to himself, “So fucking hot, Angel.”

Your hands disappeared under the water, and you felt yourself shiver as your fingers touched your most intimate place.  Your eyes closed then, focusing on your pleasure, and after a moment you felt your husband’s lips on your naked shoulder.  

You opened your eyes and watched as Jungkook licked his way up your neck to the shell of your ear - biting playfully on it.  You groaned at his ministrations, and almost moved your hand away from your centre, when his own fingers enveloped yours. 

“Jungkook - your shirt -” 

“Don’t care,” He groaned, moving his fingers against your own - soaking his probably very expensive clothes, “Jesus.  So hot.” 

You arched into his touch and tried to slip your hand away from under his but he wouldn’t let you.

“No, no Angel,” He whispered against your ear, alternating between kisses and licks, “This is a team effort, okay?” You nodded then, desperate to finish - desperate to make him happy.

Desperate that he was touching you again.

His nose nuzzled into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, and that was what did it for you.  That act of intimacy - the way he seemed to be enjoying every inch of your skin - tightened the coil in your core until it snapped, and you fell apart into a million tiny pieces.

Jungkook encouraged you through it, landing kisses wherever he could and petting your core carefully, wanting you to enjoy every second of it. 

After a moment, when you relaxed, he pulled away and you whined a little eyes still closed. 

“C’mon,”  He said softly, and you opened your eyes to meet with his, “This isn’t exactly comfortable, is it?” 

You shook your head and giggled a little at the look on his face.

So open - so inviting. 

His hand was reaching out to yours and you took it, no longer caring that you were naked, and standing up yourself.

His eyes scanned you hotly, and something akin to a blush covered your whole body.  When he looked at you again you shivered at the appreciation in his gaze. 

“Beautiful.”  He murmured as you stepped out of the bathtub, arms tightening around your waist and lifting you up effortlessly.

You laughed again at this, “I’m getting you all wet.” “Don’t care,” He answered honestly, lips meeting your own finally as he kissed you with all the fierce passion of somebody in love.

You tried to tuck your feelings for him away - to enjoy the moment as it came - but you couldn’t help it.  Your heart was swelling to nearly double the size, you loved him so much.

Jungkook carried you over to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed carefully and climbing on top of you.  His arms caged around you, but you felt safer than you ever had.

You knew he’d never hurt you - never force you to do something you didn’t want to.

“Take this off,” You whispered after a moment, tugging on the collar of his shirt, “I want to see.” 

He smirked then, in that way that was so quintessential Jungkook. 

“Alright Angel.  So needy.” 

You didn’t even deny it, nodding furiously as you watched the shirt slide off his shoulders.  You gasped when his chest was revealed, not even attempting to hide your astonishment.

He was so… Beautiful.

He groaned at the look on your face, cupping your cheeks and pressing a hot kiss against your mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that.”  He whispered against your lips, “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I could say the same for you,” You answered back, voice hoarse with desire, “Your pants, Jungkookie.” He pulled away and rose a brow at the nickname.  You bit your bottom lip and smiled.

“Please?” The word slipped out of you - sweet as honey.  He laughed.

“Alright,” He pressing a hand to your forehead and then started working on his belt buckle, “But only because you said please.” 

You watched as your husband stepped out of his trousers - heart hammering against your chest as he stood glorious as ever, in a pair of tight, black boxers.

You knew what tonight might end with.  You knew what you were offering up to him.

But the truth was… He’d had your heart… Your body… Your soul, since a long time ago. 

So you weren’t scared.  Quite the opposite in fact.

You were ready for this.

You were ready for him.

He kissed you again - fervently - and you felt the blood rise to the very tips of your ears.  God.  You loved him so much, it felt like you might burst. 

He tugged his boxers down, and you felt him pressed up against your thigh.  It might have made you anxious, were it anyone else, but with Jungkook it just felt… Right.

He pulled away slightly, eyes meeting your own, “Is this… Okay?  Do you want to slow down?”

You shook your head quickly, hands coming up to cup his face.

“No.  I want this.”  You cleared your throat, “I want you Jungkook.  Make me yours.”

Your husband’s eyes softened then, and you saw something deeper than just affection or lust.  You saw something whole and full.  Something you’d felt for him for so many years.

Your heart soared. 

Could your husband learn to love you, too? “Okay,” He whispered against your lips, “It might hurt a little Angel.  I’m sorry if it does.” You shook your head, “I don’t care Jungkook.  As long as it’s with you.” His face seemed to melt then, like butter on a hot day, and his fingers pushed into you - opening you up for what  you knew was coming.

And then he was inside you.  He slid in gently, slowly, and though it hurt - you knew you could handle it.  He stopped and pulled away slightly, hands moving your hair out of your face - eyes roving your features.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, and his lips were so close to your own it was like he was kissing you.

You nodded, “I’m fine.  I promise.  You can move, please.”

He smiled then - soft and caring - and you knew the love you had for him was shining in your eyes, but you didn’t really care.  Not anymore.

When he started moving inside of you, you pressed your hands against his back, pulling him closer, wanting his skin against your own.  He was so precious to you.  So perfect.

And he was yours, wasn’t he?

He had to be.

His lips covered your own and you felt him tightening, tightening, tightening and you knew what was coming.  He pulled back slightly, eyes screwed shut.

“Is it okay if I -” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, “Anything you want Jungkook.  Anything.” His eyes opened then and they were so beautiful - so open and honest and you felt like you might drown in them.

And the words slipped out of you, before you even really knew what was happening.

“I love you,” You whispered just as Jungkook reached the peak of his pleasure.  

His eyes widened as they met yours, and you smiled.

Even if he didn’t love you back… It didn’t matter.  Because he was yours.  

He had to be.

He collapsed on top of you after he was finished, breathing heavily, and you enjoyed his closeness with open arms - running your fingers up and down his naked back.  After a moment he pulled away - a small smile on his face.

“That was…” 

“Amazing?”  You supplied, grinning.

He pressed a hand to your cheek and kissed the side of your mouth, “Yeah.  Amazing.” Your heart swelled. 

Maybe all was not hopeless.

//

Your husband was gone when you woke the next morning.

His side of the bed was cold, and even though he wasn’t there to greet you, you were still warm from his touch.

Everything had changed between you… Hadn’t it?

It couldn’t stay the same. 

Not after the way he’d kissed you.  Not after the way he’d held you. 

You sighed to yourself feeling light and frothy inside.  He hadn’t said he loved you - but the way he’d looked at you last night…

He could learn to love you.  Your marriage didn’t have to be cold and desolate as he’d promised you.  Things were changing. 

You stood slowly, legs sore and aching - and pulled a nightgown around you.  It had been hours since you’d had a drink of water - and you blushed as you thought of how much exercise you’d actually endured since last night.  

You tried to make yourself look as presentable as possible… But secretly, you sort of wanted all of the help to wonder if Jungkook had finally made you yours.

It was silly, maybe, but the thought of others knowing that your husband wanted you in any capacity, brought a glow to your skin. 

You slipped your feet into some slippers and smiled to yourself, stepping out of your bedroom and almost skipping down the hallway.

It felt almost like you were floating on a cloud.

You started making your way towards the kitchen - intending to make yourself a quick breakfast - when you noticed that the door to Jungkook’s study was slightly ajar.  You crept towards it, intending to surprise him with your presence, when you noticed he wasn’t alone.

Your heart swam all the way into your throat as you noticed that Jungkook was standing in front of a woman.  

You couldn’t see her face - only the back of her head - but you knew it was a woman when she spoke. 

“You promised you’d wait for me.” There was a tremble in her voice.

“I couldn’t… There wasn’t anything I could do.  It was decided for me.” 

Jungkook’s eyes were unreadable.  You felt your chest tighten.

“This was why you kept me a secret,” You could hear the tears in her voice, “This was why you kept up the pretense of fucking around.  So you could marry her?” 

Your husband’s eyes widened and he stepped towards her, grabbing her by the arms. 

“Keep your voice down Violetta,” His voice was soothing, “She’ll hear you.”

Her shoulders were shaking and you realised she was crying, “I don’t care Jungkook.  I thought you loved me.  Was I wrong?”

There was a long beat of silence.  Your husband’s eyes softened then, and the mask dissolved. 

“Violetta…” 

And then she reached up and pulled your husband towards her.  And she kissed him.

Your heart cracked right down the middle and you choked back a sob.   Jungkook pulled away from her almost immediately - his eyes darting to meet with yours.

He’d heard you.

“Y/N!” 

He moved away from Violetta and as you turned, your eyes connected with hers. 

She was beautiful.

Your world crumbled like dust around you, and you spun around quickly, running towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut.  You used the locks your husband had assured you were only a precaution, and fell to the ground - leaning against the surface of the portal. 

After a moment, Jungkook’s voice came from the other side.

“Y/N.” You didn’t say anything.  

“Y/N.  Please.  Open the door.”

The sobs started rolling through your body. 

“Y/N… Please.  Y/N please, let me talk to you.”

It was too late.

Too late.

You felt like you were collapsing in on yourself - like a dying star.

Violetta.

Violetta.

That was who he loved.  Not you.

Never you.

//

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