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mercurywritesstuff · 3 months

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Love, Noona: Chapter 1

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: smau, Forbidden love, Best friends sister trope, Idol x Idol pov: 1st person texts, 2nd person writing warnings: Swearing, suggestive-ish, typical sibling violence, drug mention summary: Chan has a one night stand with a girl he couldn't remember the name of, but he gets the shock of his life when the girl turns out to be his subordinate. Oh, and also she's Felix's older sister.

Taglist Status: Open! (36 spots available left) Taglist: @freyjhasdesiredreality, @partyparty-yah, @jediturtlelover, @highlydestiny, @lixie-phoria, @silverstarburst, @sandandstarz , @massivesoyeondelusion , @spiceyhamcat, @fishlane75, @gini143, @palindrome969, @lakoya, @i-dont-know-me-either

(Red names mean I cannot tag you for some reason) word count: 1.1k screenshot count: 7 Songs for this chapter: Girl on TV⋆ HONEY(ARE YOU COMING?)

You had gone to the JYP building, face burning with shame. How could you let someone sleep with you as easily as he did, while drunk? Let alone your superior?? Don’t even mention the fact that he is her coworker and little brother’s best friend.

You felt awful for letting yourself get caught up on your horny feelings. Sure, you hadn’t had a partner for years, but that didn’t mean you could fuck the nearest thing that was somewhat interested in you. And to top it off, you completely lied to your friends. You remembered everything. The way his skin felt, and the pleasure he gave you.

God, you were pathetic.

Yong-Mi grabbed your arm, shaking you out of that self-deprecating headspace. Her mouth was moving, and it took you a second to register that it was Korean. Right, you know Korean.

“Unnie, are you listening?” Yong-Mi asked, looking into your dazed expression. Respond, damnit.

“Sorry, I was in my head a little. What happened?” You cursed yourself internally at the tone your voice took. It cracked slightly, wavering just a little. Yong-Mi didn’t seem fazed, however.

“I’ll grab water if you want to get the rest of the girls stretched and warmed up. Half of us is going into the studio while the other half is practicing with Danceracha.” Sometimes, Yong-Mi was more of a leader than you were. She would’ve been a better leader, you thought.

“Okay, sounds fun.” You forced a smile, and Yong-Mi gave you a look that she knew. She knew about the way you talked down to yourself. She pulled you into a hug, resting her chin on your head. Sometimes, you forget that you were considered tall for a female idol, and these are the times you forget. Yong-Mi always did that to you.

The moment you stepped into practice room eight, you had to cover your ears at the yelling rapping competition Sang-hee and Soo had to have. They were always so fucking loud.

“Unnie!” Jin-Ae, your youngest member, ran to you and ducked to give you a quick hug. She loved to give bits of skin ship, opposed to cuddles and long hugs, but not opposed to your side hugs.

“Girls!” Your voiced boomed; Soo and San-hee stopped almost immediately. The girls always did that, listen to you at the start of each workday. It was only a matter of time they would either get too hyper or too pissed off: either way, it was going to end with someone yelling.

“Thirty minutes till the boys get here. Time to warm up.”

⋆⋆⋆

Yong-mi joined five minutes after you started warming up the group. You had done ten minutes of yoga, and the rest of the time was spent copying some dances you guys found on the internet. Your group manager and personal manager, Ha-Yoon and So-mi respectively, joined sometime in the mix. They were filming for the YouTube docuseries JYP had oh-so-graciously thought of. Great, now you must be professional even in your down-time.

A knock rapped three times, causing the eight of you to quiet down, standing as the door opened. One-by-one, eight grown men filled the room, and when the eight were in, you all bowed to greet them. Except you.

Your eyes zeroed in on Chan, your face flushing. Yong-Mi had to physically make you bow, you had frozen. Chan seemed to have the same effect you had. His face flushing at the sight of you, eyes widening with recognition. You bent down to grab your water, taking large gulps. You caught movement in the corner of your eyes, and you found Felix booking it for you.

“Felix, no, I have water-” And just like that, your water is spilt on the ground and you're cradling your grown but younger brother. He was laughing in his deep voice, to which you narrowed your eyes. He realized her fucked up, but before he could say anything, you dropped him on his ass. He groaned, mixed with his laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Y/nnnie that hurt~” He whined, and you raised an eyebrow at his pouting face. Growing up with him, his puppy dog eyes always worked on you. Not now, though. You had Jin-Ae to thank for that. And Sun-Hee. Everyone except Yong-Mi, you were immune to their puppy dog eyes.

“Well, it wouldn’t have hurt if you weren’t such a galah.” You had spoken in English, your members looking at you confused at the slang word. You only used Korean in the group, being the only English speaker. Felix whined again. “Apologize to me and the poor water bottle you forced me to spill.” You smirked, playing with him to see how far he would go.

“Sorry, noona.” He spat, getting a chortle in response from you. You helped him up, before wiping the dust off his pants.

“Y’know, you really shouldn’t speak to your superior like that, Y/nnnie.” Felix smirked.

“I will make it very embarrassing for you in front of your friends, Yongbok.” You held up your fist and grounded it into the palm of your hand; a threat that you wouldn’t mind going through with.

He squeaked, running up to Hyunjin. They were all prettier in person, cameras not really giving them justice. You remembered the first time you saw them perform, and you were awestruck by your little brother and his group. You had wished to find a group like his when you debuted. In a way, you did. But God, were they like little kids when not working.

⋆⋆⋆

“Okay! Soo, Sun-Hi, Su-Bin, and Jin, you will go with Bang Chan, Han, Lee know, and Changbin seonbaenim to the studio. The rest of you guys, you’re with me.” You had ordered your group, all listening intently.

“Haha,” Sang-Hee giggled, and you glared at her to calm down. She rolled her eyes back, before doing a little dance. You smiled a little, much to your dismay.

You and Chan had yet to interact, which you were grateful for. You could barely look at the man before you were filled with too much embarrassment.

How were you going to work with him for the next three months?

...

Chan was freaking out. Sure, he hadn’t remembered the girl from the night before that much, only remembering how she smelt, how she tasted. But looking at the leader from PLAYground, all those memories came flying back. Oh, God. He was screwed.

He excused himself to the bathroom, letting Han take over for the recording part. He sat in the private room, trying to quell the memories away. He did not want to look at his colleague that way. His subordinate. His best friend’s sister.

How was he going to survive these next months?

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iinsertblognamee · 8 months

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masterlist <3

•°. *࿐ sam kerr

series;

» friends or lovers (sam kerr x childhood friends, matildas!reader) on-going sam and y/n started out as neighbours and became friends but what if they wanted more?

one-shots;

» big sister's (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader) what happens when your overprotective big sister finds out you’re dating and not just that, you’re dating the team captain. well shit.

» bluey and phonecalls (sam kerr x foord!reader) your son misses sam

» body slam (sam kerr x matildas!reader) a guy runs on the field mid-game and does the one thing that set's sam off. he touches you.

» bump (sam kerr x reader) sam talks to your bump

» buzzfeed; the ten times sam kerr and Y/N arnold made us belivee in love (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader)

» chelsea matches and jerks (sam kerr x reader) you go to support your girlfriend at the FA Women's cup. some guy sitting next to you doesn't get the hint to back off. Sam takes things into her own hands.

» cure to a scary flight (sam kerr x chelsea!reader) sam doesn't like flying, you get seated next to her

» did you see that? (sam kerr x matildas!reader) you show england exactly what you're here for

» don't go to bed angry (sam kerr x reader) sam and y/n have a fight

» hi sam (sam kerr x reader) sam and y/n throughout the years

» i love you (sam kerr x reader) you try out a tiktok trend you watched last night. sam isn’t impressed.

» jumpers, apologies and proposals (sam kerr x reader) the aftermath of losing to england

» kerr and hayes (sam kerr x hayes!reader) y/n hayes catches the eye of her mother's star player, sam kerr.

» mama's little diva (sam kerr x reader) it's finally time to play against Iran in Perth, but a certain someone has other plans

» matildas; the world at our feet ft Y/N (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader) clips from the docuseries

» motherhood? (sam kerr x reader) sam and you have a fight, this wasn't how this was meant to go.

» my big protector (sam kerr x matildas!reader) you take a fall on the field, Sam teaches the girl not to mess with you again

» my girlfriend (sam kerr x reader) sam is ready for the world to know about her girlfriend

» ring in the pocket (sam kerr x reader) mamma mia and a proposal

» sam kerr and Y/N arnold take a friendship test to see who's the better friend (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader)

» sam kerr and yn foord (sam kerr x chelsea/matildas foord!reader)

» sam's sick (sam kerr x reader) you go and pick up your sick girlfriend from training

» social media au (sam kerr x singer!reader)

» star player (sam kerr x childhood friend!reader) flowers, star players and soccer

» surprise (sam kerr x reader) you come over to australia to surprise sam

» winning goal (sam kerr x matildas!reader) it all comes down to this. penalty shootouts.

» you have a what? (sam kerr x reader) the matildas find out who the mysterious girl in the lobby is here for

•°. *࿐ alexia putellas

one-shots;

» the streets of barcelona (alexia putellas x footballer foord!reader) yn foord and alexia putellas meet.

» kiss me, please? (alexia putellas x footballer!reader) alexia doesn't really do PDA, but she might make an exception for you.

•°. *࿐ caitlin foord

one-shots;

» yn & caitlin foord reveal their world cup kit bag essentials (caitlin foord x sister foord!reader)

#masterlist #sam kerr x reader #alexia putellas x reader #caitlin foord x reader

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fkinavocado · 2 years

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Imagine they are at a friends Halloween party and as the party starts dying down and rest of the guests leave only Harry, Y/n, the friend, their partner, Niall and some other close friends are left, they decide to play truth and dare, Harry is really not into late night party stuff anymore so he asks her to leave with him but she begs him to stay because she is actually having a lot of fun and he gives in because he loves seeing her happy and then one of Harry's friend gets the dare of giving the person sitting on their right a hickey, Harry realises that it's y/n...

🍟

fhsds i love how you weasel niall in everytime ahahaha love that truly lmao HOWEVER for the sake of not overcomplicating things (and you’ll eventually see why) i’ll exclude him from this lil get together this once 👀

Daddy issues- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

extra / alternatively, read on wattpad

It's us (word count: 5k)

*this was originally slightly different, i switched up a few things so that it could fit in the narrative after they get back together!

*timeline: somewhere after the main story

Harry was tired. It'd been a long week. He'd finished a project that had been a major pain in his ass and he was more than glad to be finally done with it, and all he wanted was to stay in with his lovie and watch some true crime docuseries splayed on his couch, his head in her lap while she carded her fingers through his curls and scratched at his scalp- it put him right to sleep. See, he wasn't a fan of watching eerie stuff before bed but Y/N was and he was humouring her watching these shows with her, but if he could fall asleep before he saw something that would make him double-check the locks, he was glad for it.

Unfortunately, Y/N had some other plans in store for them that weekend. Well, in actuality, it just so happened that it was Halloween that Friday and when he saw her dressed up as a sexy kitten he felt conflicted. First of all, she wasn't really wearing a costume- so the "sexy" bit was his personal interpretation of it cause he found her sexy anyway. She'd just put on a headband that made two kitten ears point out of her luscious head of hair, she did a dramatic winged eyeliner and drew on whiskers on her cheeks complete with coloring the tip of her nose a cute pink.

It was... doing things to him. He wanted nothing more but to keep her inside and make her... purr.

But when she insisted they went out to their friends' that had invited them over for the occasion, he felt inadequate. "I don't have a costume!"

"I don't either! This isn't exactly a costume!" She pointed at her kitten ears she'd gotten from the Chinese discount shop.

"Yeah but it's something. I'll probably be the only one not wearing anything..."

Y/N pouted. "You can just be the hot DILF. C'mon baby... We talked about this...."

Harry couldn't fight the grin off his face. "The what? Come here, you..."

She dodged him. "Nuh-huh. We'll never leave the house if we get started and you know it!" She couldn't keep the smile off her face either as she was circling around the dining table trying to not let him get to her.

"I don't need any more convincing to stay in, darling," he smirked.

"Oh, shush! C'mon Harry! I really wanna go! Please? We won't stay long if you don't want to, but we've been cooked up in the house for the past 2 weeks, I wanna get out for a few hours at least," she bit her lower lip and looked at him from under her eyelashes. "I'll make it up to you. What say?"

Harry squinted at her. "Oh. You can bet on it"

Harry was nervous.

She'd met some of his friends before, after they'd ran into Mitch and Sarah and their, then, newborn baby. Y/N had fit in perfectly. It wasn't surprising to him that she did, but he'd been apprehensive about his friends' attitude towards her for the longest time- what with her being 16 years younger than him (and most of them) and whatnot. But turns out he should've had more faith in his friends. They knew Harry well enough to know he wouldn't bring just about anyone as a date anywhere if he wasn't serious about them. And they were mature enough not to judge a book by its cover.

In the meanwhile though, he'd been pretty absent.

None of his friends except for Mitch and Niall had known about his struggles for the 17 months him and Y/N had been apart for. At least, he hoped they didn't know... he'd been MIA for that whole entire time, and this was the first time he'd be seeing the extended group, let alone get acquainted to the new additions.

Mitch had reassured him that nobody would ask any uncomfortable questions, and that they all just knew he'd been through a rough time, but that all was well now and they all were excited to have him back.

That's why he'd been postponing meeting them for so long. He felt like he would be scrutinized. He feared they'd been gossiping about him, wondering what had happened, and now they'd try and pry it out of him.

Y/N knew he'd alienated himself from his friends that whole entire time, but she'd been the one to talk him to it. This was the perfect time for a casual way to reintegrate themselves into his group of friends.

"Baby. Don't be nervous. It's just your friends in there. They'll be happy to see you. I promise."

Harry was really only closer to Mitch and a couple others, and their respective partners, but there were other people invited to this little get together, people he hadn't met before. He hadn't been expecting this. Mitch made it out like it was just gonna be their usual group. A friend of Sarah's was hosting and she'd invited other people too, apparently.

But Y/N had been right about the costumes. Only a few were costumed, hardly so, and most of them were just wearing whatever. Part of him was glad she hadn't been the only one putting something together, even if only those cute little ears. He wouldn't have wanted her to feel out of place. In fact, Mitch was apparently a vampire for this. He'd put on a whole lot of powder and a deep burgundy lipstick and it did the trick, fangs or no fangs. The long hair helped too along with his usual aloof demeanor.

"I'm not a vampire," he grimaced.

"Oh?" Y/N gave Harry a look as if asking him to save her.

"I'm Brad Pitt. I just so happen to be Brad Pitt in 'Interview with a vampire'."

Harry rolled his eyes while Y/N chuckled but he knew she was doing it to save face. "Stop being a dickhead."

Mitch just smirked to himself going to get a refill of his rum punch and they proceeded to mingle with the rest, Sarah introducing them to those they weren't already acquainted with.

His closest friends really did seem to be genuinely happy to have him back, Y/N too. He felt a bit silly for having postponed doing this for so long. He'd really missed them too.

Hours went by however, and Harry was getting antsy. Not only was he genuinely growing tired, but he really wanted to love on Y/N. She was just too darn cute slash sexy slash adorable with that pink button nose of hers and he wanted nothing more than to have her wear nothing else than those kitten ears and her heels for a couple of hours before they went to bed.

"Darling, let's leave. Please?" He hummed into her ear. He'd been so worked up about seeing his friends again, all that stress and anxiety getting to him, plus his social batteries had drained already, not being used to doing this in so long.

"Just a little longer," she pouted. "I'm having fun."

He eyed her glass. "Hm. I can see that."

She furrowed her brows, deadpanning. "What?"

He smiled at her, "nothing. You're getting a bit tipsy. I just don't want you to get sloshed, though. You got to make it up to me, remember?" He whispered that last bit into her ear once more and that had her giggling more than she would have normally.

"Ok," she placed her glass on the coffee table in front of them. "I'll be good, daddy."

Harry's eyes widened dramatically while shushing her simultaneously, going in for a kiss to make sure he silenced her more effectively. "You're in so much trouble," he mumbled smilingly against her lips.

She was looking at him all dreamy eyed. Maybe she was more far gone than he'd realized. The fact was, Y/N was a cute drunk. She never drank till she blacked out, definitely not enough to embarrass herself in any way, ever, but she was a cute, horny mess.

She whispered looking right into his eyes, their lips still touching slightly. "Let's go find a bathroom."

Harry bit his lower lip and pinched her thigh making her yelp far more loudly than was necessary, throwing her into another giggle fit. "Shhhh," he shushed her again. "You little minx. That costume of yours isn't that far off. We're going home. C'mon," he stood up and offered her a hand but immediately one of the other women cut in.

"Hey! You two, what's with all the commotion?" She laughed, "c'mon. Pay attention. We're playing truth or dare."

"Seriously?" Harry furrowed his brows smilingly but Y/N pouted at him and he eventually dropped his hand and went to pour himself another coke.

He normally would've needed a drink to find this even remotely entertaining. He was sober now, though, had been since they'd gotten back together. No exceptions.

He did however insist Y/N have a drink whenever she felt like it. She shouldn't have to suffer the repercussions of his own actions. This was a decision he'd taken for himself and he was fine with it. It was, however, the first time he was in a setting with such heavy drinking all around him. It was the social habit that was hardest to break, and that indeed prove to be quite difficult althrough the evening.

But these were grown ass adults playing truth or dare, for god's sake. How did it even get to this? Was this how silly they'd always acted when a bit tipsy, and only now that he was seeing it all clear-headed he found it a bit too funny.

He spotted a group chatting to the side and joined them, keeping his eyes on his lovie from afar.

She was so beautiful. He couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing her so carefree and giggly. Made him feel all warm inside, and it made this whole evening worth it, with all the anxiety and stress that came along with it for him. He was paying attention to the conversation the group he'd joined was having, trying to keep himself occupied but when he heard a lot of oohs and aahs he turned to look at the group playing truth or dare once more.

Dean, was it?- had apparently agreed to a dare. Lizz, the woman to his left squinted at him playfully, plotting for an appropriate one. Harry realized they were all a bit tipsy, not just his Y/N. Actually, he may as well have been the only sober one there. It was well into the night by now. Past 11pm. And apart from being fairly bored he was getting quite tired. He would wait for her to play a round as to not come off as rude and then they would take their leave. "I dare you... to give the person on your right a hickey," Lizz's eyes glistened and Harry straightened up at that immediately, turning his back to the group he'd joined.

This Dean guy turned towards Y/N and raised his eyebrows at her suggestively and Harry was seeing this all unfold in front of his eyes as if in slow motion. Y/N just looked at the man, dumbfounded and then scanned the group seeing everyone eagerly awaiting for it to happen, so she just extended her neck towards him, gathering all her hair to the side, granting him access, and squeezing her eyes shut, smilingly.

Was she... enjoying this?

The second the man's lips touched her skin he turned away, rushing to get away from the scene unfolding in front of him.

He found a bathroom and locked himself inside, panting heavily. He wasn't feeling well. He could see red in front of him, that's how out of it he felt. He downed the coke he had in his glass and then placed it on the bathroom counter a little bit too forcefully by the sound it made, but he was hearing it all muffled. He looked at himself in the mirror and he almost couldn't recognize himself. Turning the faucet on, he splashed cold water and slapped his face lightly, shaking his head.

What was happening? It felt like he was having a panic attack.

He hadn't felt like this since...

He shook his head again. No. This wasn't happening again. He wouldn't allow himself to go in that dark place again.

He held the edge of the counter to stop his hands from shaking, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grasp. He needed to get it together. Because all he could think of was rushing back in there and knocking out that son of a bitch in one swift motion.

And her smile... that was the worst of it. He squeezed his eyes shut. Why did she smile like that?

He needed a drink so badly.

"Harry?" He snapped his eyes open, unaware of how long he'd been in there. Then he heard her voice again, more softly. "Baby, are you in there? Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah. Be right out," he cleared his throat. He wasn't ready to get out of that bathroom, he didn't trust himself. But he had to, he couldn't hide in there forever. He splashed some more water on his face, took a few deep breaths and then emerged only to see her waiting for him propped against the wall outside the bathroom.

"Harry, oh no... you look so pale. What's wrong?"

"I'm just... not feeling too well. Can we leave, please?" She tried getting closer to him but he closed his eyes taking a halfstep back.

It took her aback, he noticed, but she didn't say anything. "Ok. I'll just get my purse."

"I'll get the car started."

She turned back to give him a worried look. "Aren't you gonna say goodbye?"

"I'd rather we just left... I'm not up for it," he mumbled, looking away.

She wanted to say something, he could tell, but she decided against it and went to get her things as he rushed for the front door, making a run for it almost. The moment he stepped foot outside he gasped for fresh air.

Good. He was out of there. Nobody got hurt. He could do this.

God. He needed a drink so badly.

He avoided eye contact when Y/N finally got into the car and he drove right off. She didn't ask him anything, didn't try to talk to him.

Was she feeling guilty?

The scene kept replaying in his head, that jerk's mouth closing in on the delicate skin of her neck. And her smilingly offering the side of her neck up to him.

He glanced over to her and could actually see the hickey. The car swerved and Y/N yelped in shock "Harry!"

He pulled himself together enough to drive them home safely, but he was losing it.

After they got inside the house Y/N remained by the door watching him pace around, trying to busy himself. He was visibly shaking and he was trying to hide it but before he could head for the bedroom to undress and jump into the shower he caught his hand in hers and stopped him in his tracks "Harry. Talk to me. What's going on?"

He couldn't look at her. He knew he was overreacting. That much he was aware of. It was just a silly party game. It didn't mean anything. But it was incredibly triggering to him. And he couldn't help the visceral reaction he was having to it.

"I'm not well, Y/N," he said, his voice small. "I'm trying to get my shit together... but I just can't."

"You're shaking," she pointed out whisperingly. "You're worrying me. Please talk to me... Tell me what's wrong."

He finally looked into her eyes and what she saw appeared to have sobered her up completely. "Baby," she got closer but was still mindful of his personal space, still holding his hand with both of hers. "What's happening? You're scaring me... please."

He exhaled shakily and looked away again; after a beat he finally reached over to her hair and pulled it all to one side, mimicking her gesture from earlier, exposing the hickey. His eyes darkened looking at it unobscured now.

Her breath caught, "Harry... Wait. Wait, you saw that?... I looked for you as soon as it was over and you... you weren't there... and I realized how that must've looked to you and I was so relieved when I saw you weren't there and I just... I didn't know how to react... I didn't want to be a party pooper, I didn't think it through--"

"You smiled."

She blinked at him confusedly. "Huh?"

"When he was doing it. You smiled," his voice was coming off as if strangled, he didn't recognize it coming out of his mouth.

"Baby, no. What? I was just playing along! What are you saying?"

He just looked at her and smiled a humourless smile. "I know it's silly. It's just a game, right? I know all that. It's just a hickey on a dare at a stupid party with tipsy people having a bit of harmless fun. But it did something to me, and I can't help it. I had to run away before I jumped the guy. I wanted to... God." He squeezed his eyes shut, "I haven't felt like this in so long. And I thought it was all behind me."

Y/N's eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "No! No, baby, no. It's ok! It's ok! You're just jealous, alright? It's who you are. You're possessive. Doesn't mean anything!"

"Yes it does," he grimaced. "And you know it." He pulled his hand out of her grasp and took a step back. "I'll never get better." He could feel his own tears welling up.

"No..."

He shook his head and could feel tears blurring his vision completely so he just let them drop heavily on their own accord. "I'll never get better. This is who I am."

"Stop!"

He kept shaking his head walking backwards away from her until his back hit a wall when he was forced to stop and she rushed toward him, cupping his face in between her palms. "No! Listen to me! That's not who you are! It's not! Because you didn't do anything! You hear me?" She tried searching his eyes but he wouldn't make eye contact "You ran into that bathroom and you snapped yourself out of it and you were in control of the situation! You didn't let it get the best of you! You're in control, Harry!"

"I wanted a drink" he cut her off, shaking his head as she tried keeping him still. "I wanted a drink so desperately..." he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling more tears fall down his cheeks and she thumbed them away lovingly, cooing him and shushing him.

"You're fine. You made it. It's alright."

"It's just that... it was so triggering..."

"I know, baby, I know," she pulled him into her arms and he slumped against her, crying in earnest now/ "You're safe now. It's all behind you. You did it, you were in control. You did so good, baby." she pulled back a bit and kissed all over his face, kissed his silent tears away and stroked the back of his head until he stopped shaking. "I would never do anything to upset you, nothing to make you jealous. You know that, right? I love you."

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she wondered if he purposely chose her right side, the untainted side. "I know," he mumbled. "Rationally.. I know. But the way you smiled kept repeating in my head, on a loop..."

"I was just..."

"I know!" He squeezed her to his chest, possessively, "I know. But still... I couldn't help how jealous it made me feel. How possessive. I can't stand it. Him touching you... anyone touching you..."

"It'll never happen again. No matter the circumstances. I promise," she carefully snaked her hands around his neck and tried her luck for a kiss. He didn't fight it. In fact, he urgented the kiss immediately.

"I need you," he told her in between frantic kisses and she nodded her head, their mouths desperate for one another.

"Have me, Harry. I'm yours. Never doubt that."

He groaned, turning on his heels and pressing her against the wall instead. "Mine. Mine. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he managed in between kisses.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just--"

"Shh. Enough talking. I was on edge the whole evening. Never wanted to leave in the first place," he pulled away and looked at her, taking in her Halloween makeup and letting his lips quirk up a bit but then when he reached her eyes his own saddened again seeing how her winged eyeliner had gotten smudged with tears. "Did I ruin our evening completely? Should we not? I don't want to do anything if--"

"No! Please. This is us, Harry. This is how we communicate too, alright? I need this just as much as you do. I'm yours. I want to show it to you. Let me show it to you. Ok? Can I? Can I, daddy?"

"Fuck," he cursed, closing his eyes and going back in for a searing kiss. "Yes. Yes. It's us."

"Want you to show me who I belong to," she reached a hand in between the two of them and pressed it against his crotch, happy to find him ready and wanting. "God, I need you," she mewled. "Please, daddy."

She meant to get on her knees but he stopped her. He couldn't wait to get inside her, he wasn't in the mood for teasing. He unbuckled his belt, freeing himself rapidly and pushed her skirt up past her waist. Her heels would aid his access and he kicked her legs apart, pulling the crotch of her panties to the side and feeling her up. "Fuck. Always so ready for me, aren't you sweetheart?"

He grabbed one of her thighs bringing her leg over his hipbone, she grabbed his cock lining it up with her entrance and he sunk into her without preamble. It was a very tight fit, and it sent painful shockwaves through her core. Wet as she was, he was still large and she always needed to be properly warmed up by him before actual penetration. There would be none of that tonight though. After a few deliberate thrusts, her pain rapidly turned into pleasure and she moaned loudly, throwing her head back and bumping it a bit too harshly against the wall behind her.

"Yes, yes! Oh God!"

He brought his other hand to her neck then, squeezing tightly at the sides, his thumb pressing into the tender spot inhabited by the hickey and she gasped in pain. "Say you're mine. Tell me you love me."

"Yours, always. Only you. I love you, daddy. So much," her voice grew fainter, his fingers pushing into her throat more and more and then he kissed her harshly, pushing his tongue inside of her mouth and making sure he stole all of her breath away. By the time he pulled back she was sufficiently light headed to slump against him and he pulled out, turning them around again and throwing her over the edge of the sofa near them. He pushed her front further down into the cushion and propped her ass up, her waist snug against the armrest, and impaled her again, making her groan.

His pace was punishing. He didn't know where he summoned the energy from, but he was relentless. She felt so good around him, her words had been so reassuring. He felt safe. He felt like he was in control, like she'd said. He could reign it in. He could fight his primal tendencies. He still wanted to punch that fucking bastard, but he recognized that he could control his actions even if he couldn't control his feelings of jealousy and possessiveness. He loved her. She was his. He couldn't stand the thought of another man touching her like that. Where did being human stop and where did his violent streak begin? He didn't know, but she was right. He'd been in control.

And he was in control now. She let him be in control. She gave this to him, trusted him, always put herself in his palms like putty trusting him to take care of her, to push her to the brink and then catch her when she fell.

"So good. So good for me, sweetheart," he pulled away and kneeled in between her thighs, pushing them further apart and burrowing his face against her wet cunt.

"Oh god!"

He held her by her thighs, pulling her flush against his face, eating her out like a man starved. He needed her to come, needed her to let go. He'd been so close, he had to reign it in.

"That's it," he slapped her ass soundly. "Drench me, baby, want you coming all over my face. And then I'll have you coming all over my cock," he slapped her ass again and again and kneaded her cheeks in his palms as he pushed his tongue inside her, throwing her off the edge.

When she came down from her high he kicked his pants off along with his briefs and sat on the sofa, and he fully intended to grab her from underneath her arms and scoop her into his lap but she was quicker. Still propped over the armrest, she grabbed a hold of his painfully hard cock and got her mouth on him. He humoured her for a bit but finally tugged her hair and yanked her off of him. "Fuck baby, you're too good. I want to finish inside you. Get up here."

On shaky legs, she straddled him on the couch and he sank into the backrest, letting her move over him and love on him the way she wanted. He enjoyed her slower pace, the deep kisses, enjoyed mouthing at her breasts and her tugging at his hair but soon he was on edge again, and he'd promised her he'd make her come again. "Touch yourself, darling. Come on. Show daddy how you rub that pussy."

She moaned, throwing her head back and doing as instructed and his eyes darkened again seeing her bruised flesh. He groaned, grabbing her hips and slamming into her, getting impossibly deep inside her. "Oh my god! Oh god, oh god! Fuck! Daddy, don't stop!"

"Never!" He gritted his teeth. "Want you to feel me for days, never forget whose you are."

"Yours," she mewled, her kitten ears having fallen off her head at one point, her drawn on whiskers smudged. She was perfect. And she was his.

"Mine. All mine. Come for daddy, baby. Show me what a good girl you are."

"Yes! Please! Fuck!"

As soon as he felt her clenching around him he let go, pressing her against his groin and letting her milk him for all he was worth. "God, I love you."

She slumped against him, pushing him into the backrest, both panting heavily. "I love you too, so much. Never doubt it again. Alright?" She lazily pulled back a bit to look him in the eye.

He nodded solemnly, "I never did. I just... want to be worthy of your love. Never want to disappoint you again..."

"I never want to disappoint you again, either," she searched his eyes. "But this is the only way we can do it. Together. Talking. Communicating. Loving eachother. Ok? Never try to hide from me. It's us."

He kissed her, squeezing her flush against him. "It's us."

Daddy issues- Masterlist

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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spectres-fulcrum · 3 months

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I did finish binging the Alexander docuseries last night but by the end I had a migraine so I went to bed early and just hung out on my phone cause my mind was so not up for bed but it was the most light my head could handle(If I didn't move).

Overall, I did really enjoy it and I learned a lot. I didn't care much for the battles of Alexander in my fandom days, caring more for the relationships and people around him. I also just find imagining action pretty hard. I'm semi okay with Star Wars battles in space but I've like. grown up with them. They don't count. So I learned a lot about Alexander the tactician I think.

And I really did love the acted parts. Like can we get a full drama on Alexander, some TV network???? It could be SO LONG. Cause if there's one thing about Alexanders, they will never sastifyed. The Great, Hamilton, Claremont-Diaz, Kallus. Also: I hated the nicknames Heph and Alex(It's Phai and Xander thank you very much) but the stupid nickname Ptol grew on me. Ptol is so stupid but so cute. But I will never shut up about the lake make out scene cause it's so perfect and Phai giving Xander a place to be human and back out is so perfect.

I really did love the Persian parts too. It was great contrast, and perhaps happiness. Love between Stateira and Darius, luxury, Stateira's actions driven to protect her daughter in contrast to Phillip disowning Alexander when Alexander didn't like him siding with Attalus hoping his new wife would grant him a son, Barsine having to grow up so quickly. Memnon is always love for me and they did him very well. Darius deserved so much better than to be slain by a traitor. I could rant about Hephaestion being in Babylon after the death and how if that was accurate then in my fanfic where he and Drypetis fell in love during the Persian campagin then I could've used that for a good scene but it wasn't accurate so it was all hurt/no romantic comfort :(((((( And I'm kinda salty they changed that up not knowing what they were missing. But I'm not going to rant. (She had Bagoas though at least!)

I wanted so much more. Wanted Aristotle and the boys at Mieza and the flashbacks to taming Bucephalus(I cannot be bothered to check if that is the correct spelling) and more of the Persian royal family(Drypetis! Being strong during Stateira's death! Sisygambis!) and Bagoas and mentions of Phai being Xander's Patroclos and oh and Darius's brother and his daughter Amastris in the baggage train and more of the companions(Not including Leonnatus is a crime imo. Just cause I like Leonnatus).

Like I recognize they needed a small cast but also-a girl can dream. A girl can dream of what she was teased with. One day, maybe we'll get a proper series. *le sigh* I did really like that Lloyd historian guy too.

#alexander the making of a god #alexander the great #i'll probably do a meta post on phai and xander's relationship #overall very good #VERY salty at the post darius death in babylon scene #and them being nice about the barsine and mazeus engagements #that is what headcanons get you ya'll #Official stuff will be criticized for not adhering to stuff that doesn't exist outside your google drive

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junesaintfrancis · 5 months

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"Mother God," the Ultimate White Thief [ramble]

I was aware of Amy Carlson's death when it first hit the news (and subsequently AskAMortician’s YouTube channel), and I laughed and brushed it off. I so often fall into the trap of simply dismissing cult-related deaths, of thinking, ‘Well, another idiot died and it’s no one’s fault but theirs.’ But I watched the HBO docuseries and was left feeling somewhere between disappointed and pissed off at the pandering they did to these batshit, evil, and racist individuals.

FULL DISCLOSURE: I, myself, am white. If you are interested in yoga, meditation, or other non-Anglo spiritual practices, please learn them from people who belong to the culture from which they originate, and be mindful; do not appropriate from other cultures.

SECOND DISCLOSURE: This is a ramble post. These are just my thoughts and observations; I have not looked at academic literature for this post, and neither is it properly sorted. I may turn it into an actual piece eventually.

I could talk about the mechanisms of cult hivemind all I want, but something else caught my attention. I think Amy Carlson and LHW is a fantastic example of white [Conservative] women co-opting [appropriating] Eastern spirituality for their own malignant gain.

Watch this amazing, in-depth video that gives much more context and history if you don’t know who I’m talking about: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f81Az_2Fvek I won’t be discussing the history of Love Has Won; this is simply me pointing out how common it is to see appropriated Eastern spiritual principles within these Neo-Nazi white ‘spirituality’ groups and talking about why this phenomenon may be so common.

I don’t think religio-cultural appropriation is always obvious, either. Yoga is incredibly mainstream (and there’s even a massive Christian population who bitches about it being ‘demonic’), and so is meditation; but both of these have been appropriated by the Anglo world from South Asian spiritual practices (and other indigenous cultural beliefs) with zero regards to their cultural origins. I mean, think of all the little plastic dreamcatchers you can buy at the store. Think of the growing popularity of “healing crystals” and how now even stores like Claire’s and Target sell jewelry meant to balance, or heal, or ease anxiety. These practices are beautiful, complex, and meaningful--and they are now becoming mass-produced, watered down, and stolen by some of the most insidiously evil and/or stupid folk on the internet.

Conspirituality is the term for this. Not the appropriation, but the mixing of it with a conspiratorial obsession with alternative beliefs, big government conspiracies, paranoia, 5G, aliens building the pyramids, you name it. It’s especially dangerous when white people are the perpetrators--now, not only do you have someone stealing from another culture and using those cultural practices to actively harm others, but this person, in their whiteness, now has social power over the oppressed groups who actually own these practices. And it gets rebranded as “new age spirituality.” The new age spirituality provides a sense of community and panders to the Covid fears -- and pre-existing racism and antiSemitism -- and provides someone, or something, to blame. Thus we begin heading towards the antiSemitic point of no return. “We declare peace on earth” my ass.

And obviously, Love Has Won is guilty of all of this and more. If you’re familiar with Amy and LHW, then you’re probably already aware of the time she went to Hawaii and then claimed she was [Tutu] Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes and fire, and the creator of the Hawaiian Islands. She is clearly not afraid to appropriate whatever indigenous culture she can in order to build her facade of being a god herself, and it’s specifically her whiteness (and perhaps schizophrenia and plenty of drugs) that emboldens her. This just scratches the motherfucking surface.

Here, Amy takes credit for her Chakra system ‘cleansing’ sessions (which may or may not include poisoning yourself with colloidal silver). Further down the document, she mentions opening your third eye. Zero mentioning of the true origin of these practices, nor their cultural weight.

This is the third page of her “5D Healing Guide” document. Not only is she claiming Chakra knowledge and healing crystals, but . . . I mean, come on. You can’t use Sanskrit and then claim the fucking practice. Also, nowhere on her websites nor ‘guides’ includes the Sanskrit words for the Chakras.

Like I said before, this shit is dangerous. The watering down of these beautiful spiritual practices and then subsequently claiming and disfiguring them is almost always tied to Neo-Nazism, QAnon conspiracy theories, and a rejection of common-sense medical philosophy. Why do white women in particular so often fall into this wellness-to-Nazism pipeline, even if they weren’t overtly racist before? It’s because these white folk will always fall into the comforts and power of white supremacy; and make no mistake: much of this ‘mystic spirituality’ is white supremacy. The power to take from cultures and claim it as your own -- and the immunity to criticism -- is also white supremacy. White supremacist spirituality isn’t just a spiritual belief, either; it’s a thriving market that is powered by racism and medical Orientalism.

But still, why? ‘Buddhism and Whiteness: Critical Reflections’, edited by George Yancy and Emily McRae, has a wonderful chapter [titled ‘The interdependence and emptiness of Whiteness’ by Bryce Huebner] which discusses the emptiness and fragility of whiteness, the teachings of Buddhism, social castes, and their interconnectedness. Whiteness has no connected culture; it is a feeble social category. What ethnic culture do white Americans belong to? Most cannot name one. Rather than connecting with their ancestral cultures, white Americans often choose to steal from others which are closer, and those from which they have the power to steal from.

And, as I’ve made abundantly clear by now, this is exceptionally dangerous. White wellness culture so often leads into the paranoia, the distrust, and feeds off of the pre-existing racism that is ingrained into every white American.

“It’s the same thing with the Jews. It’s like Hitler knew the truth…” (said by Ashley Peluso). They explain that the dark forces conspiring against them, the ‘Cabal,’ don’t have souls. This is rhetoric that has excused entire genocides of people. Have you seen ‘NPC’ dramas in spiritual circles? This is that cranked up to the max.

A bunnnnch of antiSemitic bullshit. The ‘Cabal’ is a common QAnon talking point; the Cabal are members of a Satanic, baby-eating, pedophile ‘deep state’ (and Donald Trump will save humanity from them??). Who is the deep state, you might ask? Well, usually it’s Jewish people.

“Hitler didn’t want to go into the same banking system as the cabal. He didn’t want to join their mafia, so they took him out and they blamed him. They are the ones who bombed the concentration camps, created dysfunction, lied, faked the numbers, they did it to themselves and blamed it on them just like they lie about Trump.” Those are the words of Ashley Peluso. It always, always, always comes back to hating Jews. In other videos, she claims that Black people are “out of control” because of Jewish “programming.”

Jason Castillo, the co-leader of LHW, is also on video saying the N-word repeatedly. He says, “There’s nowhere to hide, cockroach. A [N-word]. That’s what a cockroach is. An [N-word].” Love Has Won members also subscribe to the “All Lives Matter” BS, and claim that BLM is a ‘cult.’ How ironic.

And I won’t even get started on the racism of believing aliens built the fucking pyramids.

And, finally:

I don't doubt it.

#amy carlson #love has won #cult #religion #appropriation #cultural appropriation #ramblings #rambles #rant post

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sassyfrassboss · 1 year

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Harry and meghan are one giant train to gain back the relevancy they lost when they left the RF. It started with losing frogmore, which was a blow (which is why i don't think they leaked this) because it's actually a step down in their eyes. They lose a house on royal grounds and access to W & C. It picked up with the announcement of the titles and with the second announcement once the website was updated but it became obvious that BP would not do anything about it. It picked up speed once they leaked that Diana's sisters were present, (who we know did not like meghan). It's basically full steam ahead with the leak they want a balcony photo and birthday party for Archie. They are desperate for approval and acknowledgment from BP.

I don't think they want to fully come back, but i think between the docuseries, her interviews and the book it did ALOT of damage to their relationships in hollywood. They need BP to forgive them without having to publicly apologize because its a life line to stay afloat in Hollywood. Harry's star is shrinking and Meghan's is too. They need the royal sparkle to re-start the brand again.

What is funny about all of this though is that H&M don't think they have done anything to be forgiven for. Harry even said that no one has told him what he has done wrong that he needs to apologize for. That is how totally unself-aware they are.

I do think the Frogmore thing was a blow to them because knowing Meghan she LOVED being able to brag about have her home on the Windsor estate like how Kate has Amner, KP, and now Adelaide.

I think they want to come back but for all the glitz and glam. Meghan would have given her right arm to be on the red carpet for the Bond premiere or for the SA state dinner in a gown and tiara. Harry wants to be able to put on a uniform and play General whenever it makes him look grand.

They hated the work and in Meghan's mind she wasn't going to put in the work if she didn't get all the glamour and diamonds.

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hydrangea-bindery · 1 year

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MISERY LOVES ITS COMPANY • @mademoisellebianx

“Back in the bedroom, I told you the story of the mongoose and the snake. Ring any bells? (…) What d'ya think? How can those two wretched animals co-exist in one burrow?”

After a series of unfortunate events, Clancy Jarvis decides to accept a cameraman job offer for his friend's ghost-hunting docuseries. However, this decision proves to be the worst one he's ever made when he and his new colleagues find themselves venturing into the Bakers' haunted mansion in Dulvey, Louisiana. He soon becomes the sole survivor of the group and is then turned into an unwilling captive of the crazy family that lived there. Clancy is determined to survive whatever horrors he is forced to face but little did he know that he's piqued the curiosity and interest of a genius sociopath hell-bent on keeping him there with him.

Here it is!!!! This is the big one that I’ve been planning out in the back of my mind since I first heard of bookbinding. I originally formatted this out ages ago as the first bind I wanted to do, before deciding that I didn’t have the skills nor experience (or a color printer😅) to this give work the proper treatment it deserved, but now I’m able to give you the double whammy of the Mongoose and Snake Editions to match our two main characters, Clancy and Lucas. Please, please, please go check this out, it was an absolute joy to beta this fic and go give the incredible Bianx some love! She was kind enough to put up with my horrible end of year schedule and my slow ass editing towards the end of this fic, so please go give her all the compliments she deserves!! You can also see all the amazing art she commissioned that made its way into this binding on her page too! Also, check out the incredible @zhalfirin who’s Brelik poems binding was the inspiration for this cover. And don’t worry, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled Disco bindings in no time😆✌🏻

#my bindings #bookbinding #hydrangea-bindery #ficbinding #fanbinding #fanfiction binding #bookbinder #resident evil 7 #resident evil #resident evil biohazard #clancy jarvis #lucas baker #clancy x Lucas

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theblogtini · 1 year

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I agree with your take on her comments as well. I think its why I'm so interested in the reaction thus far to his book. She's been so so quiet, much more than she has during really any other important time frame since she's been married. So to me, it begs the question, was it planned or is it a reaction to the reaction? Looking back, i think its fair to say that the leaks about pushing things back are her not necessarily him. (I don't think he was unaware of the leaks happening, but based on his book I think he justified it in his head as tit for tat with his family) I also think Harry was fully committed to this where as meghan saw the signs that things may not go to plan. So if meghan did "wake up" after the queen passed does she think that the queen gave them the most protection? and now that Charles was in charge it would be much harder for things to go back? Were those leaks trying to gain sympathy for harry before he blew it up? (she must have read the book and watched the show). I'm not yet at the divorce theory simply because i think the latest round of "leaks" is her reaction to THE reaction. Meaning she didn't anticipate even this level of kick back and running jokes. It also doesn't seem as though harry really cares about the coronation in the same way meghan does. Charles put out their publicly that harry won't have the same role as meghan, that had to have pissed off harry. So why go?

Honestly, I think she realized they messed up back in June during the Jubilee. They were relegated to watching everything from a window. The entire family attended the concert together and they were nowhere to be found. And during the jubilee (as with any big royal moment) the popularity of the entire family was soaring WITHOUT the Sussexes.

Meghan had been looking at the rankings since she entered the family as "look, everyone loves ME, I'm the one keeping them afloat" and when she realized that not only did she have no positive impact on it, but that it was doing better without her AND that her personal rankings were plummeting on both sides of the pond I think she realized how badly she had miscalculated.

I also genuinely believe that part of the silence and the backtracking is that they have no deals coming in. Without more deals to sign they're going to eventually run out of money... she NEVER anticipated that. I'm pretty sure that she thought that no matter what happened they'd at least have speaking engagements that they could charge millions of dollars for to fall back on - but that never happened. I think the biggest one they signed was for $400k and it was right at the VERY beginning.

They thought that they would be absolutely fine without the royal family - better off without it, even - and at the time of the Jubilee they (or at least she) realized that unless they can get back in the family's good graces they are fucked.

And she knew that with the docuseries and book coming up there was NO WAY they'd be back in their good graces. That's why she started backtracking with The Cut interview and then the "year of reconciliation" leaks. Those came from Scobie which means we could all bet good money that it was DIRECTLY from Meghan. And that's why Harry kept saying in his interviews (even though its sounded FUCKING ABSURD due to the content of the book) that he wanted to reconcile with his family, that he loved them, that he had no intention of hurting them... he was basically publicly apologizing and asking them to take him back without straight up saying "I'm sorry, please take us back" on international TV.

The silence now isn't a reaction to the book reaction - it's a reaction to the jubilee, to the funeral, to the docuseries, and to the book. Silence is the ONLY recourse she has right now because saying or doing anything (barring an outright public apology) is going to dig them further into a hole and they literally, financially, probably can't afford that.

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stickthisbig · 4 months

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I don't enjoy bingewatching fiction, but sometimes I go on a tear and watch like six docuseries in one week. Here are some recommendations and non-recs for things I watched in the last two weeks! I've included trigger warnings under the cut but kept that kind of thing non-explicit.

Highly recommended:

The Billionaire, the Butler, and the Boyfriend (L'Affaire Bettencourt: Scandale chez la femme la plus riche du monde) (Netflix)

The English title of this French-language documentary about Liliane Bettencourt is godawful (he wasn't even her boyfriend???), but it was riveting. I LOVED how they let the story unfold and the totally unexpected places it went. Highly recommended if you're interested in modern French culture.

PSA for English speakers: What I need you to do is turn the audio track to French and the subtitles to English (NOT British English [CC]). The documentary's dubbing is incredibly distracting and poorly translated, and the British English [CC] subtitles are the subtitles for the English, not a translation of the French. They aren't the same, and the English sub track is a much better (though deeply imperfect) translation.

Jimmy Savile: A British Horror Story (Netflix) (TW pedophilia, sexual assault)

By far the weakest thing about this documentary is that it's two episodes and not three. The pacing has some serious issues, and a lot of really interesting stuff from the end of the story gets packed into ten minutes.

BUT. I did think it was excellently made. It lets the story breathe and builds the horror of the fact that he told everyone what he was doing gradually. Really scary stuff.

Fine

Desperately Seeking Soulmate: Escaping Twin Flames Universe (Amazon Prime) (TW homophobia, transphobia, coercion)

It's very much a "Damn, you see that shit? That was crazy" documentary without a huge amount of deep analysis. I don't really have any substantive complaints about this documentary and I cried a little at the end. It just wasn't the best one I watched this week.

Iffy

Keep Sweet: Pray & Obey (Netflix) (TW pedophilia, sexual assault, forced marriage, incest)

Keep Sweet is a good documentary that's well-made; it chooses its subjects well, and though they're all out of the cult, they have different opinions about what happened and different roles in what went down.

However, if you're the kind of person who'd watch this four hour documentary series, you probably already know a little about FLDS. If you already know about FLDS, you will know that Rachel Jeffs is one of the faces of anti-FLDS. She's not in this documentary, and I don't understand why. Not to get too in the weeds of what Warren Jeffs actually did, but Rachel made a series of accusations in her book about FLDS that go far beyond what he was tried for, and which to my knowledge haven't been challenged by other survivors. The story falls flat without those accusations, because you miss a crucial component in his characterization (which again I will not discuss here, because it's fuckin gross). The story never addresses her, her book, or those allegations. It feels like internecine BS. If you haven't read Breaking Free, you'll probably like this documentary more than someone who has.

Evil Genius: The True Story of America's Most Diabolical Bank Heist (Netflix) (TW murder, non-graphic mentions of sexual violence, mental illness)

So this is a well paced and obviously very well researched documentary, though there are a couple of connections I wish they'd made. This documentarian also feels uniquely equipped to tell this story due to the length of his association with the subject (and tbh, that would have been the better film).

However. The fact that the subject has bipolar disorder is central to the film. While I would say that the filmmaker ultimately doesn't make directly ableist statements about the subject, the whole nature of the film's treatment of mental illness is underpinned by an ableist worldview. The filmmaker expresses repeated surprise that the subject was so intelligent and so good in school but also has bipolar disorder, and like... my man the research into a potential correlation is inconclusive but bipolar disorder has been anecdotally been linked to high intelligence since before bipolar was a thing. People thinking mentally ill people are much more clever than they actually are just because they're erratic is fully its own trope.

This is finally addressed head on in the last episode where a judge basically says "cool mental illness, still murder" during a sentencing, but the filmmaker fails to engage with that in any meaningful way. It fully feels like if you told this man he should have had a real bipolar person do a sensitivity read of his script, he would be STUNNED that that was a possibility. There's an attempt to connect the unknowable crime with the unknowable psyche and like. I'm pretty sure you could have got a lot closer to knowing if you'd just asked somebody. (Like me, maybe. My rates are reasonable.)

Anyway I did finish it despite all that, because it was pretty good. I feel like this film also got screwed by Netflix's marketing team wrt its title and branding? Because like... that's not what it's about and it prejudices the viewer pretty badly? If you put someone in the thumbnail then set up multiple parties in a "which one lied", not so great.

Skip it

Escaping Twin Flames Universe (Netflix)

Yes, this is a different documentary than Amazon Prime. They use different informants, and I think they must have been made by different creative teams. I got maybe ten minutes into the Netflix one, which is an incredibly overproduced, schlocky mess. Just tell me about the cult.

#documentary recs #documentary review

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detroit-grand-prix · 7 months

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thistle and weeds - susie wolff x oc

iii. your strife strikes at you in your sleep

Summary: Maree's solution to her current dilemma isn't practical or wise, and she can't get away with it forever, but it's all she's got until it comes to a head during the Barcelona F1 academy round.

Tags/warnings: almost one-night stands, alcohol use

Author’s note: This one didn't come quite as easily to me as chapters 1 and 2 did, but, it is a bit longer and more in-depth as a consolation! I felt like I could have maybe limited most of this to a summary, but I didn't really want to cut Maree's character development off at the knees like that, so the bulk of this chapter is strictly about Maree. I hope you like it anyway!

By the time the Barcelona round arrived in mid-May, Susie was a regular feature in Maree’s dreams, and Maree had decided that the only way to deal with it was to start avoiding talking to Susie as much as possible.

Out of sight, out of mind, Maree thought. It was a reasonable line of logic, but she hadn’t expected the act of avoiding Susie to cause Maree to think about her even more than she did before.

Getting through the Valencia race weekend without running into Susie was easy enough, as Susie wasn’t there. She had traveled to Miami, in the United States, for the Miami Grand Prix weekend. She was slated to speak at an F1-sponsored business summit where she would be announcing the partnership of F1 Academy and Hello Sunshine, and the media production company that Reese Witherspoon had founded. Maree was proud of the fact that she had a significant hand in facilitating the deal, and that they would be making a docuseries about the first F1 Academy season to capitalize on some of the “Drive to Survive” buzz.

Even aside from missing the Valencia round, Susie had a fairly demanding travel schedule and didn’t work out of the London office much of the time. She worked mostly from her home in Monaco, or on the road when she went to F1 races with Toto, but she was in regular contact with Maree via email and WhatsApp, but their conversations had started becoming more social, sometimes about things that weren’t strictly related to F1 Academy business.

For instance, while she was in Miami, Susie sent Maree a picture of the view of the beach from the balcony of her and Toto’s room at the Four Seasons, right on the Gulf of Mexico. She also sent a picture she’d taken of herself standing on the balcony of her suite, showing off the blue-and-white striped button down she was wearing. Maree limited her response to something about how the weather looked lovely. The pictures she’d sent Maree were very different from the photos she’d posted on Instagram, one of which was a photo of herself reflected in the glass sliding door of her suite. Maree did her best to keep her responses to Susie’s more social messages simple, and did her best to avoid scrolling back through their WhatsApp chat to look at the pictures Susie sent her pictures too much in hopes of not focusing on the details, like the way the Miami sunlight made her hair look like actual spun gold, or the way the sea breeze was gently ruffling it, or the way that she could see the skin just above Susie’s bra line because she’d left the topmost buttons of her shirt undone. She definitely tried to avoid imagining herself walking hand-in-hand with Susie down the long stretch of beach, enjoying the glow of the sunset and the roar of the tides as they kissed.

On the days that Susie was in the office, Maree hunkered down behind the locked door of her own office. She declined Susie’s usual lunch invitations, preferring to say that she already had lunch plans or that she had to run an errand. She spoke to Susie in meetings, but dashed back into her office as soon as they ended. She tried to artificially block off her schedule with check-ins with various colleagues, but the plan fell apart when her colleagues reasonably never had any updates for her.

By the time the Barcelona round started, Maree hardly had the nerve to even look Susie directly in the eye any more, and had resorted to very ungracefully turning around and walking the other way whenever she saw her approaching, loudly announcing that there was something she’d forgotten about in the other direction. She resolutely tried to ignore the confusion writ plainly on Susie’s face and tried to tell herself that there wasn’t also a touch of sadness or confusion with it, too.

The hammer came down on Saturday, just after the medal ceremony for the third and final round. Susie was taking photos with the girls that had made the weekend’s final podium. Maree was on her way back to the pit lane, chatting with one of the engineers for PREMA racing, Camilla, who had come to watch her driver, Marta García accept her third place trophy, when she heard someone call her name from behind her.

She turned around to see Delphine half-jogging toward her from the direction of the podium.

“Susie was looking for you earlier,” Delphine said as she caught up. “I don’t know if you talked to her already, but she just said she wanted to check in on a few things before she left.”

Maree swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat. She supposed she couldn’t reasonably evade her boss forever, but she was hoping in vain that she could make it a bit longer.

“Oh, thanks!” Maree said, trying to feign gratitude at the heads-up. “I’ll wait until she’s done.” She nodded a farewell to Camilla and walked back in the direction of the podium, trying to ignore the sudden onset of the desire to vomit.

Susie caught Maree’s eye as she finished up taking photos with the drivers and moved to descend the stairs.

“Hey,” Susie said. She didn’t sound upset, or like she was about to reprimand Maree for her absenteeism during the weekend.

“Delphine said you were looking for me?” Maree asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

“Oh, yes. I’ll be in the office on Tuesday, I was just hoping you and I could check in. You’ve been a difficult woman to keep track of lately,” Susie said, giving Maree a pat on the shoulder. She leaned in a bit closer, and Maree swore she could feel the air around her getting thinner. “I just wanted to make sure everything is okay. Let’s say right at nine. If you have any other meetings scheduled then, go ahead and move them.”

Her voice was as kind and even as ever, but Maree could read very clearly what Susie was telling her between the lines, or at least what she was imagining. “Something is going on with you, and I want to know why you’ve been ignoring me. You’re going to tell me why.”

It was a miserable weekend, and Maree spent all of it, including her flight from Barcelona to London, ruminating on what she would say, and for the first time, why she was having these dreams in the first place.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t had professional relationships with other women previously, but Susie was different. Maree had noticed that gravitational pull she had with the people around her, sure, but there was something else.

Somewhere in the air over France, she allowed herself to finally admit it: more than likely, she really was gay.

Maree had long wrestled with her sexuality. Even in secondary school, actually, she suspected that something was different. While most girls her age had boyfriends, she had no interest in dating at all. The first time she did kiss a boy, one of her classmates named Greg that she convinced herself she fancied, felt like she was a toddler at a Christmas party being forced to give an elderly relative a kiss against her will - more like something to be endured than something enjoyable.

Rowan threw a wrench in the works, giving her the thrill of an honest-to-god crush on a man for the first time, making her throw every conclusion she’d come to about herself in doubt. She even experienced the sort of intense, white-hot jealousy that they write pop songs about when Rowan briefly had a fling with another girl at the end of their first year at King’s, but it ended quickly.

After he and the other girl called things off, Rowan came to visit her in Glasgow at a summer music course for children where she was working as a trumpet lesson tutor. She remembered the thrill of sneaking him into her room in the dorm, and the way she felt when he kissed her goodbye in the car park before he left to head back to London, like she was finally experiencing what she had been missing all along.

Eventually, though, the shine wore off for Maree. Their relationship was completely devoid of any intimacy at all by the end of their marriage, and any physical contact with Rowan gave her that feeling once again of being a toddler receiving unwanted affection from a relative. She braced herself any time they kissed, and couldn’t help but notice how unpleasant it was, like the romantic equivalent of a limp handshake. Maree found herself being jealous of her lesbian friends, wondering what it would be like to date women. She was thrilled when one of her closest friends from uni, who had been out as long as Maree had known her, started dating the woman she would eventually marry, but felt a pang of jealousy when she saw how effortless their affection with one another was. She wanted that for herself, and had trouble picturing a man - Rowan or not - treating her with such tenderness.

There were other little moments in Maree’s life that made more sense in this new framing, like the time a woman with a stocky build and a boyish haircut from Maree’s Greek Literature class, sat down with her at the dining hall in Bush House, eager to discuss “the literary history of our people” after they’d listened to their professor’s lecture about Sappho.

“Our people?” Maree asked, confused. She wasn’t English, the other woman wasn’t Scottish, and she wasn’t sure what the poetry of Sappho had to do with the history of the British Isles as a whole.

“You know, lesbians. You’re lesbian, right?”

Maree remembered panicking and denying it without a second thought, and she didn’t remember ever talking to that woman again.

The other moment that bore reconsideration came just before her and Rowan decided to go forward with the legal separation. They had a lot of serious discussions about their relationship in the months leading up to it, but a particular question Rowan asked stuck in Maree’s mind.

“If we had never gotten together and you were single right now, would you ever start a relationship with someone that, well, looks like me?”

Maree assured him that yes, she still found him attractive, as she still had a vested interest in avoiding divorce at the time, that interest being that the prospect of having to up-end her life was terrifying. As she reflected on it two years post-divorce, she knew she would have answered differently.

As Maree got ready for bed on Monday night, hours away from her meeting with Susie, she comforted herself with the thought that her dreams were just years of denial boiling off under all of the pressure. It was just chickens coming home to roost.

She felt eerily calm the next morning as she walked into Susie’s office and shut the door behind her. It had helped that she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about the night before, but she was nervous as she sat down and saw the expression on Susie’s face. She looked rather cross as Maree sat down in the chair in front of her desk.

“I just wanted to chat about something.” Susie said, folding her hands together on the surface of her desk. She was looking directly into Maree’s eyes, which Maree found a bit unnerving. “We have an issue that we need to discuss if we’re going to continue to work together successfully. I am trying not to assume negative intent here, but you are giving me the impression that you no longer wish to work on this team, and I was just trying to get some insight on what I can do to improve the situation.”

Maree blanched. “N-no, that’s not it at all. You’re a great boss, and I love working on this project with you.” She felt the serenity she felt when she sat down dissipating, leaving anxiety in its place.

“Okay. I’m glad to hear that, but I’m just… confused. I thought you and I were getting on quite well together. As I said, I’m not one to assume the worst, but it seems like you’re going out of your way to avoid me.”

“It’s not that, I -”

“Did I say or do something to upset you?” Susie went on, an edge in her voice that made Maree feel like she was being scolded. “If it’s something you’re more comfortable discussing with HR, feel free to do so, but I’d hate to think that I’ve done something to make you upset.”

The worry and guilt on Susie’s face twisted something in the pit of Maree’s stomach.

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done, I just -”

Maree paused in thought. She obviously couldn’t tell Susie the truth. She couldn’t tell her boss that she had inspired Maree to spiral into a crisis of questioning a large segment of her sense of self. She couldn’t tell her boss - her married, heterosexual boss - that she was the opposite in the romantic movies that Maree’s mind was forcing her to watch every time she went to sleep, and that those movies definitely could not be played on television until after 10pm. There was no way. She would sooner go lay down in traffic.

Still, Maree couldn’t say that everything was fine when Susie obviously had noticed that things were very much not.

She could lie, but what would she even say? As she thought about it, her mind flashed to something she’d read in a spy novel she liked, where the main character was reflecting on his past and how he had used parts of it to construct a convincing cover identity. Half-truths make the best lies.

“It’s not you, I promise. It’s something I’ve been trying to deal with outside of work. I’m just going through something sort of…” Maree sat back in her chair and shifted uncomfortably. Now, it felt like she was talking to her therapist.

“You know how people go through midlife crises?”

Susie nodded, and Maree continued.

“It’s something like that. It’s something that’s been on my mind a lot, and I’m sorry if it’s made me seem distant or distracted. I guess I hadn’t realized that it was having a noticeable effect on my work. I’m sorry about that.”

Susie’s expression turned from curious to sympathetic.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I was just a bit concerned. You’ve been doing a fine job still. It’s just that our team is so small it’s easy to tell if something is amiss with someone. You certainly don’t have to get into the details of it if you don’t want to. If you do, I’m happy to listen, and do anything I can to help, but you certainly don’t have to. Whatever you tell me is in complete confidence, of course.”

“I -” Maree stuttered, biting her lip for a moment. She certainly wouldn’t have ever talked to any of her bosses in the Premier League about this, or even James, her last boss, as kind as he was. But, she felt like she could trust Susie with this. She couldn’t not tell her at this point; the look of pure earnestness and care that she was giving Maree from across the expanse of her desk almost unlocked a desire to tell her almost anything. Giving up a half-truth was her only defense against telling Susie the whole truth.

She was at the edge of a precipice, like she was staring down a cliff into the roil of the ocean against the rocks.

“Fuck it.” Maree thought. “Maybe I’ll feel better if I say something out loud.”

“This is going to sound immature, like the sort of thing most people have figured out by the time they leave university at the latest, but I never thought about it until after the divorce.”

Maree took a deep breath.

“I guess it started when I got divorced, but I’ve been questioning a lot of things about myself lately, including my sexuality, and I… I think I’m a lesbian.”

Maree watched as Susie raised her eyebrows momentarily, and dread curled around her heart. For a moment, she thought she had misjudged both the situation and Susie’s character horribly, until Susie’s expression softened again nearly immediately, and she gave Maree a gentle smile. Maree couldn’t help but notice the way Susie’s entire posture seemed to relax, as she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her chair a bit.

“Well, that is a rather significant development,” she said. “I can see why you’ve been stressed out. I, erm, have known people, you know, friends of mine, that have gone through that process. I know it’s hard, especially because they’ve talked about not knowing who will be supportive and who won’t be. But, I will say that I will be here for you if you ever need to discuss anything. And, of course, it won’t leave this room until you want it to.”

Maree felt her entire body relax like every muscle was being tensed and that she let go of a breath that she wasn’t even aware that she was holding.

“I… appreciate that, thank you,” Maree murmured. She took a moment to glance around. This was the first time Maree had been in Susie’s office since it had been redecorated and set up as her permanent workspace. The entire space, including the furniture, was very minimalist.. She had the room done mostly in shades of cream, but had a few carefully selected objets d’art in a matching teal blue that reminded Maree of the shopping bags from Fortnum and Mason, an incredibly upscale department store in London. She and her flatmate from university once put on their nicest dresses to go to the tea salon for high tea, just for a laugh, but Maree secretly had a wonderful time, and didn’t really want the day to end. Maree held onto the elegant paper shopping bag and the miniature tea tins that came in it for years, until she moved in with Rowan.

As Maree spoke, she couldn’t bear to meet Susie’s gaze again. The sincerity on Susie’s face was almost overwhelming, so she focused her attention on something sitting on Susie’s desk; one of the only things on the surface other than Susie’s laptop, a small cup that had the remnants of Susie’s usual morning espresso, and a lamp with a glassy teal base. The prism was likely just a paperweight, some sort of six-sided glass prism in a shape Maree couldn’t name, but she caught herself wondering briefly if the light was ever just right in the office for it to project rainbows onto the walls.

“And…” Susie chuckled, making Maree look back up at her. “If you want some of my unsolicited advice, don’t worry about timelines with these sorts of things, or when you think you should have done something. I know it’s probably your project manager brain, but your sense of self and feeling comfortable in your own skin not a deliverable.”

She ignored Maree’s incredulous expression and continued on.

“Growing up, and into adulthood, I never wanted to become a wife and mother. I met Toto, fell in love, and got married, but I didn’t really want children, because I couldn’t focus on my racing career and putting myself in danger with someone at home depending on me, and Toto had two children of his own already that were almost teenagers when we started dating. But, once I retired from motorsport, I realized that I wanted to have a family with Toto. I was 35 when I had Jack, and most women my age that I knew already had kids in primary school. But, the good thing is, you have an opportunity for some self-discovery, you know? Change is good, even if it’s not always comfortable, but it will give you what you need to grow. “

It was with Susie’s advice in mind that Maree found herself at a lesbian bar in Soho, appropriately named “She”, a few days later, at the suggestion of her friend Evelyn. Evelyn, or Evie, as Maree called her, was her friend that she had been jealous of when she started dating a woman, desiring the effortless affection that Evie and her wife showed each other.

Maree reasoned that being conservative with taking risks and insisting on sticking to the familiar was what had gotten her into a job and marriage that made her miserable, so there was no reason not to go all in. So she called Evie and asked if she knew of any gay bars frequented by women, and after dealing with Evie’s excited line of questioning over the phone, Maree found herself waiting to meet Evie and Ada, her wife, at the start of the bar’s weekly Wednesday karaoke night.

The bar was not large, but it was loud, likely owing to the fact that it was built out of what looked like the remnants of an old RAF Nissen hut, given the ceiling and walls were made of a single piece of cylindrical corrugated metal.

Maree sat at one of the uncomfortable metal yellow cafe tables that were arranged around the place, nervously glancing between her phone, the door to the bar, and the girl on the small stage singing above an instrumental track of Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl'' to an audience that didn’t look particularly interested. She was desperately wondering where Evie and Ada were, and nothing remained of her Moscow Mule other than some half-melted ice pooled at the bottom of its copper mug, a damp napkin, and the spent peel of the lime garnish.

“Come on, Evie…” she murmured to herself, staring at the WhatsApp message window on her phone, desperately waiting for the checkmark in the corner of her last message to turn blue.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” Maree heard someone say. She whipped her head around to see a petite woman sidle up to her table and sit down in the other chair. “You new in town? Just visiting?” They practically had to yell over the noise of the small crowd and the karaoke music.

The woman was very smartly dressed, wearing a pinstripe business suit, but the fact that the shirt - well, more like a bralette - she was wearing underneath was made of black lace and left her midriff exposed made Maree think she definitely had not come straight from work like Maree had.

“Uh… n-no, I live here… well, not in Soho, but, you know… London.”

The woman smiled. “So you’re just new to this bar, then? Good to know. What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“M-Maree.”

“That’s a pretty name. I’m Tara. Can I buy you another drink - Moscow Mule, looks like?”

Tara barely waited for her to nod before getting up and walking toward the bar. Maree thought that having a man come on so strongly would be an unnerving experience that would have probably had her sprinting for the exit door, but something about this - the novelty of it, maybe, had Maree wanting to stay and see what might happen.

It didn’t take more than a minute before Tara returned. She sat down and moved her chair a bit closer to Maree’s, putting a copper mug down with a new drink for Maree. Maree glanced at Tara’s drink - she couldn’t tell what it was, but it was in a rocks glass, garnished with a cherry and a slice of lemon.

“So, Maree, what brings you here? I’m guessing it’s your first time?”

Maree nodded, setting down the copper mug after taking a generous sip.

“Yes. A friend of mine from uni and her wife were supposed to meet me but, I don’t think they’re coming.”

“That’s a shame,” Tara said, with a bit of a smirk. She shot a very intense gaze directly into Maree’s eyes, a look that made her feel a blush starting at her chest and rising to her cheeks. “Hopefully you find my company acceptable.”

Tara was gorgeous, Maree thought. She was trying to remain circumspect and examine whether or not it was honest-to-god attraction, but being one and a half Moscow Mules in already was making it a bit of a task. She was petite, with a delicate frame. Her eyes were a shade of green that likely looked more intense and vibrant than usual, thanks to the flawless eyeliner and eyeshadow she was wearing. She had a delicate nose with a shiny stud piercing, and was wearing silver stud earrings that seemed to match it. She had a choppy blonde haircut that grazed the bottom of her chin. Her hair had dark roots that indicated that her hair color likely wasn’t natural, but it still reminded her of someone. She’d just finished her second Mule, but still had the wherewithal to not allow herself to complete that thought.

Maree loosened up as the two of them talked, doing their best to talk over the goings-on of their surroundings. She found out that Tara was some sort of musician, not enough of a following to be particularly well-known yet, but, according to her, “big enough to pay her bills after one of her songs got some traction on TikTok”. She had the sort of crisp, polished public school accent that made Maree think that she likely didn’t have many of her own bills to worry about in the first place, but she shoved that thought away. It wasn’t as if she often used her real accent, after all.

Maree preferred to keep details of her life spare, only telling Tara that she was in programme management for a sports management company, and not which particular sports management company. Tara did not press for details, even when she returned with another round of drinks.

By the end of Maree’s third Mule, Tara… Maree thought that was her name, at least, as it was getting hard to remember - had gotten quite touchy, stroking the exposed skin on Maree’s arms and shoulders occasionally, and Maree couldn’t find it in herself to mind the attention one bit. At one point, Tara had reached out to tuck a lock of Maree’s dark hair behind her ear, and Maree couldn’t help but involuntarily giggle, before wondering the last time she’d made a noise even remotely similar. She felt a pleasant full-body tingle, her limbs becoming increasingly fluid and pliable, her nerves and apprehension at the beginning of the night a distant memory She wasn’t drunk, not quite, but pleasantly buzzed enough to know that she likely would’ve found this situation horribly embarrassing if she were still sober.

The fatal blow to Maree’s will to resist… what was her name again? Clara, maybe? Clara’s charms, though, came when the woman delicately grasped one of Maree’s hands, holding it gently in place for a moment. The fourth Moscow Mule, along with the shot of Fireball they’d done, certainly wasn’t hurting either.

“You have nice hands, you know.”

For reasons she wasn’t aware of, Maree felt her entire body blush, while trying to think of something to say in response.

“I, uh… thank you? I think?”

She didn’t think there was anything exceptional about them. She preferred to keep her nails short; a holdover from taking piano lessons, and thought that most colors of lacquer would just make her fingers look short and stubby. She preferred neutral or nude shades when she wore nail polish. Her nails were currently a light, almost-invisible pink.

Clara laughed, but didn’t deign to explain further before abruptly changing the subject.

“Come on,” she said, standing up, practically dragging Maree with her. “There’s an open spot on the roster, let’s go do a song.”

Maree did not object, even as they scrolled through the selection on the console. She let Sara pick the song, one that Maree remembered getting heavy radio play not long after she’d graduated from uni. It was one of those top 40 radio pop-driven dance tunes that Maree couldn’t think of the name of or which artist made it, but she somehow knew all of the words to.

“I crashed my car into the bridge, I watched, I let it burn, I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs, I crashed my car into the bridge”, they yelled in unison into the singular karaoke microphone that… uh, was it Clara, or Sara? It was definitely Sara, Maree thought, was holding. Thankfully, the crowd was a bit more lively than when earlier on in the night, and were yelling along and dancing along with the bass-boosted karaoke instrumental track booming over the club’s speakers. It did a lot to make Maree feel

“I don’t care! I love it!”

The intensity seemed to ramp up as the song went on, and by the time the song was over, Sara… or was it like, Sierra? was practically in Maree’s arms, not an inch between them as she clung to her shoulders. The expression on her face was one of delight, her eyes were huge, sweat forming on her forehead. Maree could feel it too, her breath coming in sudden sharp pants, her heartbeat thundering against her ribcage.

“Let’s go take a little break,” Mara said, her breathing just as quick. Somehow, Maree knew exactly what she meant.

They stumbled into the ladies’ room, which was thankfully empty, giggling as they practically dove into an open stall. Maree could barely throw the bolt on the door before Mara… or maybe it was something like Teri? Maree was really having a hard time remembering, but she didn’t think it really mattered at this point, focusing more on the feeling of whoever-she-was pressing her against the stall door, grasping at her hips to hold her in place.

“Wait,” Maree said, pushing Clara’s shoulders back a bit, putting the slightest bit of distance between their mouths. “I have to tell you something… I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?” Teri said, still panting.

“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Maree said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I’m still not sure… well, you know, if I like it.”

Sierra laughed a little, but it sounded light and friendly, not the sort of teasing, cruel laugh that Maree was half-expecting.

“That’s okay,” she said, whispering too. “Just follow my lead.”

Sara brought her hands - which were wonderfully warm and soft, Maree thought - to the sides of Maree’s face. She’d adjusted her pace from something fevered and frenzied to something gentler, probing Maree’s mouth with her tongue as her thumbs stroked gently against her cheeks. Maree caught the taste of whiskey sour, she thought, as she closed her eyes and let her lips slide open, just like she did in her dream, when Susie…

Remembering her dreams about Susie made her eyes snap open, catching sight of the blonde of Sara’s hair. She was unable to resist combing her fingers through it, trying to imagine that it was Susie’s. Maree felt a pang of momentary guilt, but between the bass thumping against the walls of the bathroom stall and their shared frantic breathing, she let it go and closed her eyes and allowed herself the fantasy that it was Susie kissing her. She wasn’t exactly in a position to tell herself not to.

The adrenaline fizzed and sparked deliciously under Maree’s skin as she imagined that it was who was kissing her so passionately. Each of them let hands each start to wander, and she grasped at Maree’s ass as Maree let her thumbs travel over the exposed skin on Tara’s abdomen, inching ever upward to the lacy bralette she was wearing.

“You’re doing so well for your first time,” Mara whispered, pulling her lips away from Maree’s for a moment. Imagination was a powerful thing, and it caused Maree to keen as she could’ve sworn that what’s-her-name even started sounding like Susie, her voice having taken on the same warm, almost-maternal affect that Susie used with her. “I wouldn’t have ever guessed if you hadn't told me. I imagine that answers your question.”

Maree giggled. “I guess it does.”

After a few minutes, Maree started feeling more adventurous, moving away from Teri’s mouth and kissing along the delicate skin of her neck, and let her thumbs venture under the hem of her bralette. Maree grazed the underside of Mara’s breasts with her thumb, and she giggled, rewarding Maree by shoving her thigh between the junction of Maree’s legs. Maree canted her hips a little, grinding lightly into her knee as her excitement started reaching a delirious fever pitch. She was wondering how far they would go until the exterior door to the ladies’ room burst open, and a group of what sounded like four other women, all of them drunk and enormously loud, spilled in. Both Maree and… shit, who is she again? jumped, startled, and stumbled out of the stall together to a round of boisterous, supportive peanut-gallery commentary - it was incredibly obvious what they were doing in there, and according to the blonde girl, they weren’t the first ones to do so, nor would they be the last.

As the girl with the name Maree couldn’t remember settled her bar tab, Maree perched on the barstool next to her, and felt like she was in a different world. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the adolescent thrill of making it to second base with someone even at her age, but everything seemed softer and warmer, the colors of the tinted spotlights and the pulse of the music all blending into one mass of pleasant sensation. She barely paid attention as the blonde woman slipped her the bar receipt with her phone number and her Instagram handle on it.

They sat at the bar and talked for a few minutes as Maree knocked back a water or two and bid farewell to the blonde woman, telling her that she had to be up for work the next morning. They kissed in the stairwell of the bar as Maree left, whispering a promise to message her later on.

By the time she had regained her senses enough to walk down to the Lebanese joint down the street for some a shawarma and some chips to chase the Moscow Mules with and ordered a Bolt back home, the bar receipt was crumpled and forgotten about at the bottom of her purse with the receipt for the falafel shop and the other detritus that tended to gather there.

Maree woke up early the next morning - well before she had to get ready for work, thankfully - feeling nauseous and greasy, and like her head was stuffed with cotton balls but somehow weighed twenty kilos by itself. She had managed to remove her pants before falling into bed, but not her bra or her blouse, both of which had left angry red indents in her skin. Her mouth tasted like the sour remnants of the garlic sauce that was on her shawarma, and she had a message from Evie explaining that she had fallen asleep and that Ada didn’t want to wake her, and that she was sorry and that she had hoped Maree had a good time regardless.

She popped a paracetamol and downed a glass of water before getting in the shower. As she stood under the hot spray, hoping that it would be enough to revive her before she had to leave for work, she tried to piece together the previous night. She remembered getting to the bar and waiting on Evie and Ada to show up, and she remembered that song she did karaoke to, but most of the details were like dust to the wind. All that she could recall with clarity and certainty was the girl with the blonde hair pressing her against the bathroom stall, the way her hands felt as they cradled her face, and the way her lips felt against hers, and the way she closed her eyes and let herself believe that it as Susie kissing her.

It was really too bad she couldn’t remember the girl’s name.

#susie wolff x oc #f1 fic #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula 1 academy #series: thistle and weeds

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