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1968 [Chapter 9: Dionysus, God Of Ecstasy]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.9k

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The October surprise is a great American tradition. As the phases of the moon revolve towards Election Day, the candidates and their factions seek to ruin each other. Lies are told, truths are exposed, Tyche smiles and Achlys brews misery, poison, the fog of death that grows over men like ivy. The stars align. The wolves snap their jaws.

In 1844, an abolitionist newspaper falsely accused James K. Polk of branding his slaves like cattle. In 1880, a letter supposedly authored by James Garfield—in actuality, forged by a New York journalist—welcomed Chinese immigrants in an era when they were being lynched by xenophobic mobs in Los Angeles and San Francisco. In 1920, a rumor emerged that Warren Harding had Black ancestry, an allegation his campaign fervently denied to keep the support of the Southern states. In 1940, FDR’s press secretary assaulted a police officer outside of Madison Square Garden. In 1964, one of LBJ’s top aids was arrested for having gay sex at the Washington D.C. YMCA.

Now, in 1968, Senator Aemond Targaryen of New Jersey is realizing that he will not be the beneficiary of the October surprise he’s dreamed of: his wife’s redemptive pregnancy, a blossoming first family. There is a civil rights protest that turns into a riot in Milwaukee; this helps Nixon, the candidate of law and order. For every fire lit and window shattered, he sees a bump in the polls from businessowners and suburbanites who fear anarchy. Breaking news of the My Lai massacre—committed back in March but only now brought to light—airs on NBC, horrifying the American public and bolstering support for Aemond, the man who has vowed to begin ending the war as soon as he’s sworn into office. The two contestants are deadlocked. Election Day could be a photo finish.

Nixon is in Texas. Wallace is in Arkansas. In Florida, Aemond visits the Kennedy Space Center and pledges to fulfill JFK’s promise to put a man on the moon by 1970. He makes a speech at the Mary McLeod Bethune Home commending her work as an educator, philanthropist, and humanitarian. He greets soldiers at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola. He feeds chickens to the alligators at the Saint Augustine Alligator Farm Zoological Park.

But it is not the senator the crowds cheer loudest for. It is his wife, his future first lady, here in her home state where she staunched her husband’s hemorrhaging blood and appeared before his well-wishers still marked with crimson handprints. In Tarpon Springs, she and Aemond attend mass at the Saint Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral and pray at an altar made of white marble from Athens. Then they stand on the docks as flashbulbs strobe all around them, watching sponge divers reappear from the depths, breaking through the bubbling sapphire water like Heracles ascending to Mount Olympus.

~~~~~~~~~~

You kick off your high heels, tear the pins and clips out of your hair, and flop down onto the king-sized bed in your suite at the Breakers Hotel. It’s the same place Aemond was almost assassinated five months ago. He has returned in triumph, in defiance. He cannot be killed. It is God’s will.

You are alone for these precious fleeting moments. Aemond is in Otto’s suite discussing the itinerary for tomorrow: confirmations, cancellations, reshufflings. You pick up the pink phone from the nightstand on Aemond’s side of the bed and dial the number for the main house at Asteria. It’s 9 p.m. here as well as there. Through the window you can see inky darkness and the kaleidoscopic glow of the lights of Palm Beach. The Zenith radio out in the kitchenette is playing Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones. No intercession from Eudoxia is necessary this time; Aegon answers on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he says, slow and lazy like he’s been smoking something other than Lucky Strikes.

“Hey.” And then after a pause, twirling the phone cord around your fingers as you stare up at the ceiling: “It’s me.”

“Oh, I know. Should I take off my pants, or…?” He’s only half-joking.

You smile. “That was stupid. Someone could have bugged the phone.”

“You think Nixon’s guys are wiretapping us? Give me a break. They’re goddamn buffoons. They’re too busy telling cops to beat hippies to death.” You hear him taking a drag off his joint, envision him sprawled across his futon and enshrouded in smoke. “Everything okay down there in the swamp?”

You shrug, even though Aegon can’t see you. “It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“My parents were there when we stopped in Tarpon Springs. They kept telling everyone how proud they are of me, and I just felt so…dishonest.”

“Of course they’re proud. If Aemond wins, the war ends and more civil rights bills get passed and this hell we’ve all been living in since 1963 goes away.”

“I miss you,” you confess.

“You’ll be back soon to enjoy me in all my professional loser glory.” He’s right: Aemond’s entourage will spend Halloween at Asteria. You’ll take the children trick-or-treating around Long Beach Island—with journalists in tow, of course—and then host a party with plentiful champagne and Greek hors d’oeuvres, one last reprieve before the momentous slog towards Election Day on November 5th, a reward for the campaign staffers and reporters who have served Aemond so well. “What are you going to dress up as?”

“Someone happy,” you say, and Aegon chuckles, low and sardonic. “Actually, nothing. Aemond and Otto have decided that it would be undignified for the future president and first lady to be photographed in costumes, so I will be wearing something festive yet not at all fun.”

“Aemond has always been somewhat confused by the concept of fun.”

“What are you going to be for Halloween?”

You can hear the grin in his voice as he exhales smoke. “A cowboy.”

“A cowboy,” you repeat, giggling. “You aren’t serious.”

“Extremely serious. I protect the cows, I comfort the cows, I breed the cows…”

“You are mentally ill. You belong in an asylum.”

“I ride the cows…”

“Cowboys do not ride cows.”

“Maybe this one does.”

“I thought you liked being ridden.”

Aegon groans with what sounds like genuine discomfort. “Don’t tease me. You know I’m celibate at the moment.”

“Miraculous. Astonishing. The Greek Orthodox Church should canonize you. What have you been doing with all of your newfound free time?”

“Taking the kids out sailing, hiding from Doxie, trying not to step on the Alopekis…and playing Battleship with Cosmo. He has a very loose understanding of the rules.”

“He does. I remember.”

“He keeps asking when you’ll be back.”

“Really?” you ask hopefully.

“Yeah, it’s cute. And he calls you Io because he heard me do it.”

“Not an appropriate myth for children, I think.”

“Cosmo’s what, seven years old?”

“Five.”

“Close enough. I think I knew about death and torment and Zeus being a slut by then.”

“And you have no resulting defects whatsoever.” You roll over onto your belly and slide open the drawer of the nightstand. Instead of the card Aegon gave you at Mount Sinai—you’ve forgotten that you’re on Aemond’s side of the bed—you find something bizarre, unexpected, just barely able to fit. “Oh my God, there’s a…there’s a Ouija board in the nightstand!”

Aegon laughs incredulously. “There’s a what?!”

“A Ouija board!” You sit upright and shimmy it out, holding the phone to your ear with one shoulder. The small wooden planchette slides off the board and clatters against the bottom of the drawer. “Why the hell would Aemond have this…?”

“He’s trying to summon the ghost of JFK to stab Nixon.”

“Oh wow, it’s heavy.” You skim your fingertips over the black numbers and letters etched into the wooden board. There’s something ominous about the Good Bye written across the bottom. You can’t beckon the dead into the land of the living without reminding them that they aren’t welcome to stay.

“Aemond is such a freak. Is it a Parker Brothers one, like for kids…?”

“No, I think it’s custom made. It feels substantial, expensive. Hold on, there’s something engraved on the back.” You flip over the Ouija board so you can see what your hands have already felt. The inscription reads in onyx cursive letters: No ghosts can harm you. The stars were never better than the day you were born. With love through all the ages, Alys.

“What’s it say?” Aegon asks from his basement at Asteria.

You’re staring down at the Ouija board, mystified. “Who’s Alys?”

Instead of an answer, Aegon gives you a deep sigh. “Oh. Yeah, she would give him something like that. Fucking creepy witch bullshit.”

“Aegon, who’s Alys?” She’s his mistress. She has to be. It fills your skull like flashbulbs, like lightning: Aemond climbing on top of another woman, conquering her, owning her, binding her up in his mythology like a spider building a web. And what you feel when the shock begins to dissolve isn’t envy or pain or betrayal but—strangely, paradoxically—hope. “She’s his girl, right?”

“Please don’t be mad at me for not telling you,” Aegon says. “There wasn’t a good time. When I hated you I didn’t care if he was fucking around, and then after what happened in New York I didn’t want to hurt you, I didn’t know how you’d take it. It’s not your fault, there’s nothing wrong with you. She was here first. He’d have kept Alys around if he married Aphrodite herself.”

“I’m not mad.” You’re distracted, that’s what you are; you’re plotting. “Where is she?”

“She lives in Washington state. I’m not sure exactly where, I think Aemond moves her a lot. He doesn’t want anyone to see him around and start noticing a pattern. Neighbors, shopkeepers, cops, whoever.”

“Washington.” Just like when Ari died. Just like when Aemond didn’t come back. “Who knows about her?”

“Just the family. Fosco and Mimi found out because when they married in, the fights were still happening. Otto and Viserys demanding he give Alys up, Aemond refusing. It’s the only thing he ever did wrong, the only line he drew. He said he needed her. She could never be his first lady, but she could be something else.”

“His mistress.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says reluctantly. “Are you…are you okay?”

“I’m okay. What’s wrong with Alys?”

“What?”

“Why couldn’t Aemond marry her?”

“I mean, she’s the type of psycho who gives people Ouija boards, first of all,” Aegon says. “And she’s…she’s not educated. Her family’s trash. She’s older than Aemond. Hell, she’s older than me. She would be an unmitigated disaster on the campaign trail. She unnerves people. But Aemond, he…”

“He loves her,” you whisper, reading the engraving on the back of the board again. “And she loves him.”

“I guess. Whatever love means to them.”

A thought occurs to you, the first one to bring you pain like a needle piercing flesh. “Does she have children?”

Again, Aegon sounds reticent to disclose this. “A boy. Aemond’s the father.”

“How old?”

“I don’t know, I think he’s around ten now.”

And that’s Aemond’s true heir. Not Ari, not any others he would have with me. That place in his heart is taken. He couldn’t mourn the loss of our son because he already has one with the woman he loves.

Out in the living room of the suite, you hear the front door open. There are footsteps, Aemond’s polished black leather shoes.

Aegon is asking: “Are you sure you’re okay? Hello? Babe? Hello? Are you still there?”

“I’m fine. I gotta go.”

“Wait, no, not yet—!”

“Bye.” You hang up the phone and wait for Aemond to discover you. You’re still clutching the Ouija board. You’re perched on the edge of the bed like something ready to pounce, to kill.

Aemond opens the bedroom door, navy blue suit, blonde hair short and slicked back, his eyepatch covering his empty left socket. He’s begun wearing his eyepatch in public more often—not for every appearance, but for some of them—and whoever finally convinced him to concede this battle wasn’t you. His right eye goes to you and then to the Ouija board in your hands. He doesn’t speak or move to take the board, only studies you warily.

“I know about her,” you tell him.

Still, Aemond says nothing.

“Alys,” you press. “She’s your mistress. You’re in love with her.”

“I did not intend to hurt you.” His words are flat, steely.

“I’m not hurt, Aemond.”

“You shouldn’t have ever known about this. I apologize for not being more discrete. It was a lapse in judgment.” But what he regrets most, you think, is that his secret is less contained, more imperiled.

“What we have is a political arrangement,” you say. The desperation quivers in your voice. “You don’t love me, you never have, and now we can be open about it. You need me to win the White House, but that’s all. Your true companion is elsewhere. I want the same thing.”

He steps closer, eye narrowing, iris glinting coldly, puzzled like he couldn’t have understood you correctly. “What?”

“I want to be permitted to have my own happiness outside of this imitation of a marriage.”

“No,” Aemond says instantly.

Your stomach sinks, dark iron disappointment. “But…but…why?”

“Because I don’t trust you to not get caught. Because I need to be sure that I am the father of the children you’ll give birth to. And because as my wife you are mine, and mine alone.”

Tears brim in your eyes; embers burn in your throat. “You’re asking for my life. My whole life, all of it, everything I’ll ever experience, everything I’ll ever feel. I get one chance on this planet and you’re stealing it away from me.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees simply.

“So where’s my consolation?” you demand. “You get Alys, so where’s mine?”

“What do you want?”

You don’t reply, but you glare at your husband with eternal rage like Hera’s, with fatal vitriol like Medusa’s.

“You think I don’t know about that little card you keep in your nightstand?” Aemond is furious, betrayed. “You used to hate him.”

“I was wrong.”

“Because he was at Mount Sinai and I wasn’t? Three days undid everything we’ve ever been to each other? Our oaths, our ambitions?!”

“No,” you say, tears slipping down the contours of your cheeks. “Because he’s real. He doesn’t try to manipulate people into loving him, he doesn’t pretend to be someone he’s not, when he’s cruel it’s because he means it and when he’s kind that’s genuine too. And he wants to know me, who I really am. Not the woman I have to act like to get you elected. Not who you’re trying to turn me into—”

Aemond has crossed the room, grabbed the front of your teal Chanel dress, and yanked you to your feet. The Ouija board jolts out of your hands and lands on the carpet unharmed. Your long hair is in disarray, your eyes wide and fearful. You try to push Aemond away, but he ignores you. You can’t sway him. You’ve never been able to. “Aegon has nothing to his name except what this family gives him,” Aemond snarls, hushed, hateful. His venom is not for his brother but for you. You have upended the natural order of things. You have dared to deny Zeus what he has been divinely granted dominion over. “You would jeopardize his wellbeing, his access to his children? You would ruin yourself? You would doom this nation? If you cost me the election, every drop of blood spilled is on your hands, every body bag flown home from Vietnam, every martyr killed by injustice here. What you ask for is worse than being a traitor and a whore. It is sacrilege.”

“Let go of me—”

“And there’s one more thing.” Aemond pulls you closer so he knows you’re paying attention. You’re sobbing now, trembling, choking on his cologne, shrinking away from his furnace-heat wrath. “Aegon isn’t capable of love. Not the kind you’re imagining. He gets infatuated, and he uses people, and then he moves on. You think he never charmed Mimi, never made her feel cherished by him? And look how she ended up. I’m trying to carve your name into legend beside mine. Aegon will take you to your grave.”

Your husband shoves you away, storms out of the bedroom, slams the door so hard the walls quake.

~~~~~~~~~~

Parading down streets like the victors of a fallen city, jack-o-lanterns keeping watch with their laceration grins of firelight. Hecate is the goddess of witchcraft, Hades rules the Underworld, Selene is the half-moon peeking through clouds in an overcast sky. The stars elude you.

The children—ghosts, pirates, princesses, witches—dash from doorstep to doorstep like soldiers in Vietnam search tunnels. They smile and pose in their outfits when the journalists prompt them, beaming and waving, showing off their Dots, Tootsie Pops, Sugar Daddies, Smarties, Razzles, and candy cigarettes before depositing them in the plastic orange pumpkins that swing from their wrists. Only Cosmo, dressed as Teddy Roosevelt with lensless glasses and a stuffed lion thrown over one shoulder, stays with the adults. He is the last one to each house, approaching the doorway reticently like it might swallow him up, inspiring fond chuckles and encouragement from the reporters. He clutches your hand and hides behind you when towering monsters lumber by: King Kong, Frankenstein, vampires with fake blood spilling from their mouths.

Aemond wears a black suit with orange accents: tie, pocket square, socks. You glimmer in a black dress dotted with white stars, clicking down the sidewalk in boots that run to your knees, silver eyeshadow, heavy liner. You almost look your own age. There are large star-shaped barrettes in your pinned-up hair, bent glinting metal. As the reporters snap photos of you and Cosmo walking together, they shout: “You’ll be such a great mother one day, Mrs. Targaryen!”

Fosco is Ettore Boiardi—better known as Chef Boyardee—an Italian immigrant who came through Ellis Island in 1914 with a dream of opening a spaghetti business. Helaena, Alicent, and Ludwika are, respectively, Alice, Wendy, and Cinderella; Ludwika clops along resentfully in her puffy sleeves and too-small clear stilettos. Criston is Peter Pan. Aegon wears a white button-up shirt, cow print vest, ripped jeans, brown leather boots, a cowboy hat that’s too big for him, and a green bandana knotted around his throat. He stays close to you and Cosmo because he can, here where the journalists expect to see him being a devoted father and active participant in the family business of mending a tattered America. Teenagers are fleeing their families to join hippie communes and draftees in Vietnam are getting their limbs blown off and junkies are shooting up on the streets of New York and Chicago and Los Angeles, but here we see a happy family, a perfect family, a holy trinity that thanks the devotees who offer them tribute. Otto, who neglected to don a disguise, glares at you murderously. You have failed to give Aemond a living child. You have dared to want things for yourself.

Back at Asteria in the main house, the children empty their plastic pumpkins on the living room floor and sort through their saccharine treasures, making trades and bargains: “I’ll do your math homework if you give me those Swedish Fish,” “I’ll let you ride my bike for a week if I can have your Mallo Cup.” While the other adults ply themselves with champagne and chain smoke away the stress of the campaign trail, Aegon gets his Caribbean blue Gibson guitar and sits on the couch playing I’m A Believer by The Monkees. The kids clap and sing along between intense confectionary negotiations. Cosmo wants to share his candy cigarettes with you; you pretend to smoke together as sugar melts on your tongue.

Now the children have been sent to bed—mollified with the promise of homemade apple pies tomorrow, another occasion to be documented by swarms of clamoring journalists—and the house becomes a haze of smoke and indistinct conversation and music from the record player. Platters of appetizers have appeared on the dining room table: pita, tzatziki, hummus, melitzanosalata, olives, horiatiki, mini spanakopitas, baklava. Women are chattering about the painstaking labor they put into costumes and men are scheming to deliver death blows to Nixon, setbacks in Vietnam, Klan meetings in Mississippi. Aemond is knocking back Old Fashioneds with Otto and Sargent Shriver. Fosco is dancing in the living room with drunk journalists. Eudoxia is muttering in Greek as she aggressively paws crumbs off of couches and tabletops. Thick red candles flicker until wax melts into a pool of blood at the base.

Through the veil of cigarette smoke and the rumbling bass of Season Of The Witch, Aegon finds you when no one is looking, and you know it’s him without having to turn around. His hand is the only one that doesn’t feel heavy when it skims around your waist. He whispers, soft grinning lips to your ear, rum and dire temptation like Orpheus looking back at Eurydice: “Let’s do some witchcraft.”

You know where Aemond keeps the Ouija board. You take it out of the top drawer of his nightstand in your bedroom with blue walls and portraits of myths in captive frames. Then you descend with Aegon into the basement, down like Persephone when summer ends, down like women crumbling under Zeus’s weight. You remember to lock the door behind you. You’re not high—you can’t smoke grass in a house full of guests who could smell it and take it upon themselves to investigate—but you feel like you are, that lightness that makes everything more bearable, the surreal tilt to the universe, awake but dreaming, truth cloaked in mirages.

Aegon has stolen three red candles from upstairs. He hands one to you, keeps a second for himself, and places the third on his end table beside a myriad of dirty cups. You glimpse at his ashtray and a folded corner of the receipt that’s still tucked beneath it, and you think: I have my card, Aegon has his receipt, Aemond has his Ouija board. I wonder what Alys likes to keep close when she sleeps. Then Aegon clicks off the lamp so the only light is from the flickering candles.

He tosses away his cowboy boots, hat, vest and is down on the green shag carpet with you, his hair messy, his white shirt half-unbuttoned. He’s taking sips of Captain Morgan straight from the glass bottle. He’s lighting a Lucky Strike with the wick of his candle and then giving it to you to puff on as he places the planchette on the board. “Wait, how do we start?”

You exhale smoke, setting your candle down on the carpet and then tugging off your own boots with some difficulty. “We have to say hello.”

“Okay.” Aegon places his fingertips on one side of the heart-shaped planchette and you rest yours lightly on the other. He begins doubtfully: “Hello…?”

“Is there anyone who would like to send us a message from the other side this evening?”

“You’ve done this before,” Aegon accuses.

“I have. In college.”

“With a guy?”

You chuckle, taking a drag as the cigarette smolders between your fingers. “No, with my friends. It’s not really a date activity.”

“I think it’s very romantic. Candles, darkness, danger, who’s gonna protect you when the ghosts start throwing things around…”

“You’d fight a ghost for me?”

“Depends on the ghost. FDR? You got it. I can take a guy in a wheelchair. Teddy? No ma’am. You’re on your own.”

“Which ghost should we summon?”

Aegon ponders this for a moment. “John F. Kennedy, are you in this basement with us right now?”

“That is wrong, that is so wrong.”

“Then why are you smiling?” Aegon says. “JFK, how do you feel about Johnson fucking up your legacy?”

“That is not the kind of question you’re supposed to ask. We’re not on 60 Minutes.”

“JFK, do you haunt the White House?” Aegon drags the planchette to the Yes on the board. “Oh no, I’m scared.”

“You are a cheater, this is a fraudulent Ouija board session.” You put your cigarette out in the ashtray and then take a swig from Aegon’s rum bottle. “JFK, are we gonna make it to the moon before 1970?”

Aegon pulls the planchette to the No. “Damn, Io, bad news. Guess the Russians win the Space Race and then eradicate capitalism across the globe. No more beach houses. No more Mr. Mistys.”

“Give me the planchette, you’re abusing your power.”

“No,” Aegon says, snickering as you try to wrestle it away from him. In his other hand he’s clutching his candle; scarlet beads of wax like blooddrops pepper your skin as you struggle, tiny infernos that burn exquisitely. Red like paint splatter appears on Aegon’s shirt. You grab the green bandana around his throat, but instead of holding him back you’re drawing him closer. The Ouija board and all the world’s ghosts are momentarily forgotten.

“You’re dripping wax on me—”

“Good, I want to get it all over you, then I want to peel it off and rip out your leg hair.”

You’re laughing hysterically as you pretend to try to shove him away. “I’m freshly shaved, you idiot.”

“Everywhere?” Aegon asks, intrigued.

You smirk playfully. “Almost.”

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” Aegon sets his candle down on the carpet and strips away tacky dots of red wax: one from your forearm down by your wrist, another from your neck just below one of your silver hoop earrings, wax from your ankles and your calves and right above your knees. His fingertips are calloused from his guitar, from the ropes of his sailboat. They scratch roughly over you, chipping away who you’re supposed to be.

Then Aegon stops. You follow his gaze down. There is a smudge of wax on the inside of your thigh, extending beneath the hem of your dress, glittering black and white fabric that hides what is forbidden to him. Aegon’s eyes are on you, that troubled opaque blue, drunk and desperate and wild and afraid. With your fingers still hooked beneath his bandana, you say to him like a dare: “Now you’re going to stop?”

His palm skates up the smoothness of your thigh, and as he unpeels that last stain of red wax his other hand cradles your jaw and his lips touch yours, gently at first and then with the ravenousness of someone who’s been dying of thirst for centuries, starving since birth. You’re opening your legs wider for him, and his fingers do not stop at your thigh but climb higher until they are whisking your black lace panties away, exploring your folds and your wetness as his tongue darts between your lips, tasting something he’s been craving forever but only now stumbled into after four decades of darkness, trapped in you like Narcissus at his pool.

You are unknotting his green bandana and letting it fall to the shag carpet. You are unbuttoning the rest of his shirt so you can feel his chest, soft and warm and yielding, safe, real. The candlelight is flickering, the thumping bass of a song you can’t decipher pulsing through the floor above. Now beneath your dress Aegon’s fingers are pressing a place that makes your breath catch in your throat, makes you dizzy with need for him. He looks at you and you nod, and he reads in your face what you wanted to say months ago in this same basement: Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon lifts your dress over your head, nips at your throat as he unclasps your bra, and you are suddenly aware of how the cool firelit air is touching every part of you, how you are bare for him in a way you’ve never been before. You catch Aegon’s face in your hand before he can see the scar that runs down the length of your belly and say, your voice quiet and fragile: “Don’t look at me.”

Pain flashes in his eyes, furrows across his brow. “Stop,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as you cling to him. Then he begins moving lower and you fall back onto the carpet, no blood on Aegon’s hands this time, only your sweat and lust for him, only crystalline evidence of a betrayal you’ve long ago already committed in your mind.

You’re combing your fingers through his hair and gasping as Aegon’s lips ghost down your scar, not something ruinous or shameful but a part of you, the beginning of your story together, the origin of your mythology. Then his mouth is on you—yearning, aching wetness—and you thought you knew what this felt like but it’s more powerful now, more urgent, and Aegon is glancing up to watch your face, to study you, to change what he’s doing as he follows your clues. And then there is a pang you think is too sharp to be pleasure, too close to helplessness, something that leaves you panting and shaking.

You jolt upright. “Wait…”

Aegon props himself up on his elbows. His full lips glisten with you. “What? What’d I do wrong?”

“No, it’s not you, it’s just…it’s like…” You can’t describe it. “It’s too…um…too intense or something. It’s like I couldn’t breathe.”

Aegon stares at you, his eyebrows low. After a long pause he says: “Babe, you’ve come before, right?”

I’ve what? “Yeah, of course, obviously. I mean…I think so?”

He’s stunned. He’s in disbelief. Then a grin splits across his face. “Lie back down.”

You’re nervous, but you trust him. If this costs you your life, you’ll pay it. He pushes your thighs farther apart and his tongue stays in one spot—where you touched yourself in the bathtub in Seattle, where you wanted him when he slipped his fingers into you for the first time—and suddenly the uneasy feeling is something raging and irresistible like a riptide in the Atlantic, something better than anything you knew existed, and you keep thinking it’s happened but it hasn’t yet, as you cover your face with your hands to smother your moans, as your hips roll and Aegon’s arms curl under your thighs to keep you in place so he can make you finish. It’s a release that is otherworldly, celestial, terrifying, divine. It’s something that rips the curtain between mortals and paradise.

It’s always like this for men? That’s what Aemond has been getting from me, that’s what I’ve been denied?

As you lie gasping on the carpet Aegon returns, smiling, kissing you, running his fingers through locks of hair that have escaped from your pins. “Not bad, right little Io?” he purrs, smelling like rum and minerals, earth and poison. Now he’s taking off his jeans, but before he can position himself between your legs you have pushed him onto his back and straddled him, pinning his wrists to the floor, watching the amazement ripple across his flushed face, the desire, the need. You tease Aegon, leaning in to nibble at his ear and bite gingerly at his throat, never harming him, never claiming him, grinding your hips against his and listening as his breathing turns quick and rough. Then you slip him inside you, this man you once hated, this man who was a stranger and then a curse and now a spell.

Aegon wants to be closer to you. He sits up as you ride him, hands on your face, in your hair, kissing you, inhaling you, shuddering, trying not to cry out as footsteps and laughter and thunderous basslines bleed through the ceiling. You know he’s been high on so many things—things that corrupt, things that kill—and you hope you can compare, this brief clean magic.

He can’t last; he finishes with a moan like he’s in agony, and as the motion of your hips slows, you take his jaw in your grasp and gaze down at him. “Good boy,” you say with a grin. Aegon laughs, exhausted, drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. He embraces you so tightly you can feel the pounding of his heart, racing muscle beneath bones and skin.

He’s murmuring through your disheveled hair: “I gotta see you again, when can I see you again?”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t have an answer. You unravel yourself from Aegon and dress yourself in the red candlelight: panties, bra, dress, boots, all things that Aemond chose for you, all things he bought with his family’s money, all things he owns. Aegon has nothing to his name and neither do you. You are—like Fosco once said—pieces of the same machine.

“Where are you going?” Aegon asks, like he’s afraid of the answer.

“I have to go back upstairs to the party before someone realizes I’m missing.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” You kneel on the carpet to kiss him one last time, your palm on his cheek, his fingers clutching at your dress as he begs you not to leave. “I have to, I have to,” you whisper, and then you do.

You grab the Ouija board and planchette off the green shag carpet, hug them to your chest, and hurry up the steps. The first floor of the Asteria house is a maze of cigarette smoke and clinking glasses, guests who are dancing and cackling and drunk. From the record player strums Johnny Cash’s Ring Of Fire. You slip unnoticed to the staircase.

In the blue-walled bedroom you share with Aemond, you carefully place the Ouija board and planchette in the top drawer of his nightstand exactly as you found them. Then you go to your vanity to try to fix your hair. As you’re rearranging clips and pinning loose strands back into place, the door opens. Aemond is there, feeling beloved and invincible, looking for you. He crosses the room and closes his long fingers around your wrist. He wants you: under him, making children for him, possessed by him.

“Come to bed,” Aemond says.

“Not right now. I’m busy.”

“You aren’t busy anymore.”

“I told you no.”

He wrenches you from your chair. Instead of surrendering, you strike out, hitting him in the chest. You don’t harm him, you’re not strong enough, but genuine shock leaps into his scarred face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hiss. You can’t let Aemond undress you; he will find the evidence of your treason, he will see it, feel it, taste it. But that’s not the only reason you stop him. “Every goddamn night I give you what you want, and exactly how you want it. Tonight I’m saying no. You want to take me? You’ll have to do it properly. I’m not going to give you the illusion of consent. You remember what Zeus did to all those women, right? Go ahead. Act like the god you think you are. But I’m going to fight you. And if those people downstairs hear me screaming, you can explain to them why.”

Aemond stares at you in the silvery light of the half-moon. You glare boldly back. At last he leaves and descends the staircase into an underworld of churning smoke, returning to the party to sip his Old Fashioneds and decide what to do with you.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii x y/n

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poisonlove · 5 months

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lorraine smut? but lorraine is the one giving and is dominant

I try it :(

Shut up | Lorraine day

+18

Under the relentless Texas sun, each day on Uncle Howard's farm became a challenge. The high temperature turned every drop of sweat into a tribute to hard work, while the arid ground beneath my feet made every step a struggle against the toughness of the earth.

On that farm, under Uncle Howard's stern yet understanding gaze, I worked to earn a few bucks. It was my ticket to a different future, far from the arid plains of Texas. New York represented my ambition, the place where I hoped to forge my fortune. So, with sweat on my forehead as a constant companion, I toiled in the hope of one day crossing the horizon to new opportunities.

"How are you doing, y/n?" someone suddenly asks.

I stopped feeding the chickens, turning to see Uncle Howard looking at me seriously. "I'm done..." I reply with a small smile, tossing a handful of corn into the chicken coop.

"Good, because you need to plow the soil for the harvest," he quickly says before leaving the farm.

"I know, J." I glance at my horse, watching me with curiosity from its enclosure. "It's more acidic than usual," I sigh wearily.

I walk over to J, placing my hand on his mane, making him neigh with happiness. "See you later," I mumble distractedly before patting his back and moving away from the farm. The sun beats against my face, and I try to shield myself by raising a hand over my eyes. The heat of the day begins to make itself felt.

The abrupt noise of a vehicle stopping on the ground catches my attention. I turn slowly to see who has arrived, curious to discover what could disrupt the tranquility of the day on Uncle Howard's farm.

A red van appears in my field of vision, and with confusion, I see who's inside. A guy in a white shirt and a cowboy hat jumps out, smiling widely. I furrow my brows as I watch him help a girl down, offering her his hand. Four more guys emerge from the back of the van, their figures still unclear under the blinding sun. My curiosity grows, trying to discern who they are and what has brought them so suddenly to our farm.

"Hey! You!" I shout, determined to capture their attention.

The cowboy guy looks at me with confusion, but his open smile doesn't seem worried at all. "This is a private residence," I assert seriously, scrutinizing the others out of the corner of my eye.

"Calm down, beauty." The cowboy guy takes off his sunglasses, smiling even more. "I'm Wayne," he says, grinning. I raise an eyebrow, confused.

"I don't care who you are, just go away," I say venomously, noticing how one of his friends sizes me up and down.

"Calm down, sweetheart." A blonde approaches slowly, smiling seductively. "We rented this place," she adds, biting her lower lip with a seductive manner. "If you're interested, you can shoot some scenes with us," she timidly suggests.

"Scenes?" I look closely at the group, noticing a camera in the hands of a guy with glasses. The way they flirt... the realization makes me blush violently.

"Bobby, that doesn't seem appropriate," another female voice intervenes. My eyes scan with curiosity over the figure of a girl behind the guy with glasses. I am surprised to see a beautiful girl with brown eyes, a dazzling smile, and an innocent aura. She seemed almost embarrassed.

"Always the same party pooper," the blonde murmurs weakly.

"I'm R.J.," says the guy with glasses, embarrassed. "She's Lorraine, my girlfriend," he adds with a smile. I blink slightly, incredulous that such a charming girl is with RJ.

"I know, I had the same reaction," the other guy in the group, Jackson, intervenes, smiling genuinely.

"Maxine," says the girl next to the cowboy, smiling shyly.

My eyes linger on Lorraine, admiring her beauty with brown eyes and the innocent smile that seemed to contrast with the situation. Her presence, somehow, added a touch of mystery to the whole situation. The tension in the air thickens as I try to understand the reason for this unexpected intrusion into Uncle Howard's quiet farm.

My heart was pounding as I watched the scene. Howard arrives with a rifle in hand, a stern look aimed at RJ.

"What's going on here?" the old man asks venomously, keeping the rifle pointed at RJ.

"Hey, calm down." Wayne raises his hands and moves slowly toward my uncle. "I'm Wayne; we talked on the phone about renting this place," the guy says determinedly.

My uncle analyzes his words before lowering the rifle. "All right... then follow me," he says calmly. "Y/n, you keep doing your work and then go feed the cows," he adds, turning and walking away.

As the six friends follow my uncle, Lorraine turns and looks at me with curiosity, giving me a shy smile. The tension in the air dissipates, but her mysterious presence and attentive gaze leave an indelible mark on my ordinary day on the farm.

(…)

"Can you explain why you don't want to eat?" I ask with exasperation to the cow.

I was so exhausted that I desperately wanted to sleep, but Mrs. Cow here didn't want to eat. It might be something minor, I know, but if the cow doesn't eat tomorrow, we won't have milk, and my uncle will be angry.

"Please... can't you see how good it is?" I smile nervously as I shake a handful of hay in my hands. I sigh as Mary looks at me with boredom.

"You know... I think she's not hungry," someone intervenes playfully.

I turn towards the farm entrance and smile, seeing Lorraine walking towards my direction. There's something about her that irresistibly attracts me, and I don't know what it is – maybe it's the fact that she's extremely sexy and innocent at the same time.

"Oh... hi," my cheeks flush, and I lean against the fence of the pen. "Hi," Lorraine says with a small smile on her lips.

With the corner of my eye, I see the girl leaning next to me.

"And the others?" I ask curiously, and Lorraine lights a cigarette, pulling and inhaling the smoke with her eyes closed. "We've finished shooting; now they're either drinking or doing their thing... well, except for R.J.," she says indifferently, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"You know..." I start as I watch the other cows walking slowly, "I would have never thought that someone like you would do an adult film," I say embarrassedly, blushing faintly.

Lorraine looks at me with blushing cheeks and drops the cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with the tip of her foot.

"I actually knew nothing... about these films," she begins with a low tone, smiling shyly. "And what do you mean by someone like you?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

I open my mouth trying to say something that isn't stupid, and Lorraine takes the hay from my hands.

"I mean... you have such an innocent aura..." I start embarrassingly. Lorraine smiles sweetly at the cow, which slowly approaches the fence, sniffing what she has in her hands. "Let's say you look like the perfect cover of a church girl," I say curiously as I watch Mary start chewing on the hay Lorraine gave her.

"Mary!" I say with a falsely mournful tone, and Lorraine chuckles softly.

"Anyway, I came to help my boyfriend R.J.," she says smiling at Mary. I raise my eyebrows at her comment. "I see," I say timidly.

"And anyway, I could handle shooting a scene," she says with confidence. "I didn't say that," I respond amused and move away from the fence. I put my hands in my jeans' pockets and walk near some hay, sitting on it.

"Because I've already done something with R.J.," she says, raising her chin with superiority. Lorraine follows suit and sits beside me, settling into the hay.

"You don't seem very satisfied," I notice, and I start playing with some hay, wanting to keep my fingers busy. "Let's say it's something that gives more pleasure to him than to me," Lorraine shrugs nonchalantly, and I look at her out of the corner of my eye.

"He's a nice person; he helped me settle into university..." Lorraine confesses, lying down in the hay, looking at the ceiling.

I follow her example and turn towards her direction, seeing how some strands of hair are mixed with the hay. Her eyes sparkle, and she looks at me with curiosity. "But you don't love him, right?" I finish her sentence, and she nods slowly.

"I don't want to hurt him..." she continues, and I remain silent at her response. "Anyway, I think you could find someone who can make you enjoy," I say absentmindedly, and Lorraine smiles sweetly, giving me a light push on the side. "And are you talking about yourself?" she says playfully, and I look at her without blinking.

Lorraine stops smiling, seeing my seriousness, and leans towards my face, making my heartbeat faster. "I need someone who can endure my desire," she says in a low voice, expressing her lust.

Her eyes lock with mine, and the sparks between us intensify.

Our lips meet with desire, a palpable tension in the air. I delicately entwine my fingers around her neck, gently pulling her towards me. Initially, Lorraine stiffens, but as seconds pass, I feel her hesitation melt away. Her lips, initially shy, respond to the mutual need, creating a fusion of intensely charged emotions. The kiss becomes a silent dialogue, a blend of desires and feelings expressed through the intimate touch of our mouths.

The brunette straddles my legs and leans towards my neck, kissing it with lust. "Raine..." I say with ragged breath, and the girl moves away to look at me attentively.

Her eyes are hooded, and her lips are semi-open due to heavy breathing, her hair tousled and infused with hay.

Without saying anything, I kiss Lorraine and take her hand, making her glide along my body, slipping it directly between my underwear. Lorraine sighs loudly against my mouth, feeling the moisture between my folds, and intensifies the kiss.

"Don't hold back..." I say breathlessly. "Quench this fire," I say, smiling widely. My mouth opens wide as I feel two fingers inside me, and I spread my legs instinctively. Lorraine settles between my legs and looks at me serenely. "You're really... wet," she murmurs with a husky voice, going deeper with her fingers.

I moan in response.

Lorraine bites into my neck and begins to penetrate me at her leisure, increasing and decreasing the speed according to her desires. "No... not like this," she says breathlessly, quickly pulling away from my body.

My eyes look at the girl with confusion before smiling, seeing how she takes off her panties with the dress. I sigh loudly seeing her curves, her small breasts compensated by the magnificence of her body, soft and smooth skin.

"Calm down" I say chuckling weakly, feeling Lorraine forcefully removing my pants, exposing my warm center.

"Shut up," she says agitatedly, "I'm so frustrated..." she mutters through her teeth. My eyes watch Lorraine's movements carefully, seeing her opening my legs and searching for a better position for both of us.

Both of us release a moan as our sensitive centers rub against each other, our fluids mixing as if they were one.

"To hell with everything..." she says weakly, sighing loudly as she starts moving her hips back and forth. My hands end up on the sides of her body; the nails scratch her back with every movement.

"Mmmh..." Lorraine moans loudly, increasing the speed of her hips. The moans become louder, and the sound of our bodies in symbiosis increases at the same pace. "Raine, I..." I mumble absentmindedly, closing my eyes for a moment.

The pleasure, placing a hand around my neck, "Look at me, damn it," she says through her teeth, moaning and moving faster and faster. "Raine, I..." I mumble almost crying for pleasure, and the brunette releases the grip on my neck, opening her mouth in ecstasy and letting herself be carried away by the orgasm she just reached.

The sight made me come forcefully.

Lorraine slumps against my body, trying to catch her breath. "Is that all?" I ask with a smile on my lips. "Is this the level of endurance?" I inquire with curiosity, and Lorraine licks her lips with mischief.

"Oh no, we've just begun," she says with a husky voice, and I smile nervously, concerned about her words.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega smut #lorraine day x reader #lorraine day x you #Lorraine day smut

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republicansaredomesticterrorists · 1 month

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“Failed presidential candidate Gov. Ron DeSantis (R) signed a bill late last week barring Florida localities from requiring employers to provide outdoor workers with access to water, rest and shade, outraging workplace safety advocates who say the new law will kill people.

Backed by the agricultural and construction industries, the controversial legislation is what’s known as a “preemption” law: It forbids cities and counties from pursuing their own ordinances on a particular subject, in this case protections from extreme heat.

The law effectively nullifies a proposal in Miami-Dade County that would require some employers to maintain a heat safety program and provide employees with water and shade on hot days. The county commission recently withdrew the proposal after the state legislation put its legality in doubt.

The preemption bill recently passed the Republican-controlled state House and Senate, along with a similar measure that prevents jurisdictions from requiring employers to pay livable wages on government-funded projects.

Unions and other progressive groups said blocking heat regulations would endanger farm and construction workers and anyone else who labors in one of the hottest states in the country.

“Someone is going to die as a result of this legislation,” Kim Smith, a telecommunications technician, told HuffPost last month.

Last year, Texas Republicans passed a similar preemption bill that blocked localities from implementing heat protections as well as other ordinances related to housing and labor. The legislation, known as Texas’ “death star bill,” appeared designed to thwart local laws in Austin and Dallas that guaranteed water breaks for workers.

The bill Gov. Ron DeSantis (R) just signed blocks jurisdictions like Miami-Dade County from implementing their own heat safety standards.

The bill Gov. Ron DeSantis (R) just signed blocks jurisdictions like Miami-Dade County from implementing their own heat safety standards. SOPA IMAGES VIA GETTY IMAGES

Florida Republicans pushing for the preemption law said they wanted to avoid a “patchwork” of local regulations around the state related to heat safety, arguing the matter was better left to the federal Occupational Safety and Health Administration.

But OSHA does not yet have a heat-specific safety rule, and proposals to create a uniform, statewide standard in Florida have gone nowhere over the years because of a lack of Republican support.

More than 430 workers have died due to environmental heat exposure since 2011, according to OSHA. But relatively few jurisdictions have laws in place that require employers to provide water, shade and heat safety training. Just three — California, Oregon and Washington — mandate heat breaks for outdoor workers. Minnesota has heat standards for indoor workers, while Colorado does for farmworkers.

“Overheating is one of the most common and most serious dangers in the workplace,” Rep. Alma Adams (D-N.C.), who recently co-authored a federal bill ordering OSHA to regulate heat exposure, told HuffPost. “Is requiring a glass of water and some shade too much to ask?”

Climate change is making heat waves both more intense and more frequent, raising fears that a growing number of workers could die if governments don’t implement safety measures.

A farmworker in Miami-Dade County died last July during what would become the hottest month ever recorded. The man’s family told NBC South Florida that he’d recently suffered symptoms consistent with heat stress. A farmworker in the county told HuffPost last month that the foreman at the plant nursery where he works prohibited even 30-second breaks in the blazing sun since this is the busiest growing season for exotic flora.

The Biden administration is currently crafting a federal heat safety standard through OSHA, but federal rules take years to develop, often face litigation and can be undermined by subsequent administrations. Former President Donald Trump could simply drop pursuit of the rule if he defeats Biden in their expected rematch in November.”

#ron desatan #republican assholes #maga morons #republicans kill the working man-literally kill them

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callmewrinkles3 · 2 months

Text

Castles Crumbling - DR3 x Fem!OC

Summary: There's just four races to go until Em never has to be near McLaren again, but her anxiety isn't getting any better. With fractures growing in their friendships and people in the media talking, how could it? Not even a gift from her husband could help.

Words: 15.5k

Warnings: The 2022 F1 season, COTA 2022, mental health issues (anxiety, depression, social anxiety, issues with food, one instance of accidental self injury), Zak Brown opening his mouth, hospitals, mentions of assumed domestic abuse, medical staff, smut.

AN: Remember us? Yeah it's been a while, we know. But we're back! Tumblr is a mess right now and with this we decided to make it worse. Please, please heed the warnings here. This is probably the lowest point Em gets to, and it's not a good place. It’s a hard, complicated one. If it's not something you feel comfortable reading, that's alright. Stay safe out there. See you around. 🫰🏻

October 2022

Em had no idea why she was so nervous the day they got to Texas. There was absolutely no reason to be, they'd had some time off and it had been lovely. Her anxiety kept going up and making her stress which was the last thing she wanted. She was tucked in under Dan's arm, their friends were there, and they were in one of her favourite places in the world. Even if when Dan asked her what she wanted to do on their days off she'd said nothing. She didn't have the energy to do it.

The cancelled Russian GP felt like a miracle, giving them a full three weeks off instead of a week in London and one in Sochi. It was an oasis after the triple header of Spa, Zandvoort, and Monza. As soon as Dan finished media after the Monza curse kicked in they left the circuit. Like the year before they were holding hands, but this time it was anger and misery. He'd been on for points. Good points. And then the car just died under him. Fuck McLaren.

They'd gone straight to their favourite pizza place, getting a smile from the staff when Em ordered in Italian. Even the Tifosi in the restaurant chilled around them. There were nods and smiles, Em returning them when she could. It was there to the hotel for some sleep, and the next morning they had quick goodbyes to everyone before renting a car and driving up to Lake Como.

It was normal for them to have a getaway in Italy after races. It started with the beach trip after their first night together in Monaco, and 2019 was the nights in Milan after two impossible feeling races. But finally, after a quarantine year that cancelled their plans and then Em having to cancel them when Dan won. But finally they got to spend their time together. Dan had promised her that even if he won they were still going.

But the car gave up, so instead they said goodbye to Blake and Micahel for three days away. Em adored them, but she'd spent so much time with them that they weren't her usual safe places. Things with Michael still felt awkward, and time apart just felt right. The three days were spent alone, actually getting to wear their rings while they tanned, ate pizza and pasta, and spent hours making love on any surface they could.

The best part of the three weeks off wasn't sunny Italy, it was going to Perth. Dan had to be at the MTC for two days for sim duty before the double header so they went back to London, but as soon as they could they were on the direct flight from London to Perth to see family. It had only been two months since they'd seen Joe and Grace, but they hadn't seen the rest of the family since the super quick trip they'd made to Perth after they got back together.

All they wanted to do was hug the kids and be home. They just wanted to be uncle Danny and auntie Emmy. Even thought it was winter it was warmer than Em was used to. It was healing being back at the farm. Silence at night, family arriving in the late morning or early afternoons, it was perfect. Either they went to see people or people came back to see them at the farm for a full two weeks.

It helped Em's anxiety lessen, as did the regular therapy sessions. They had one on a Monday evening while Em was in Perth, set for a time where no matter where in the world she was she'd be able to make it. On race weeks she had one on Thursdays too. Plus seeing the constant smile on Dan's face while he was home. That put a smile on hers. If anyone deserved to be happy it was her Danny, and Em would do anything in her power to make sure he was.

The fun days ended all too soon, hugging everyone goodbye and promising to see them in Abu Dhabi for Isaac's birthday before they went back into the swing of things. Singapore and the race wasn't bad, Dan finishing with 10 points. But Japan was awful. Lando barely in front but the team acting like he was on the podium, and the weather and recovery vehicles. Dan had talked to her about Jules once before, about losing one of his best friends as a result of those conditions on that track. Her heart was in her throat as she watched Dan go around and round. It was another weekend watching the man she loved be disappointed at a track he adored, but at least they got to spend a week in London before Texas.

Once they got on the plane to head to the US, Em could feel the nerves building in her. It was different from the - high grade if she was honest - anxiety that she usually had most days. This time there was a reason. Dan was showing her the house he bought them that she still hadn't seen in person.

It had started from 2019 when she was tipsy and half asleep and whispered it while dozing in his arms that Austin would be a nice place to live. Since then he'd been searching, revealing it to her when they were in Montreal. The original plan was an apartment with a balcony and natural light, but getting that in the delivery radius of their favourite barbecue place was nearly impossible. And then between the pandemic and everything it turned into wanting so much more than a one bedroom apartment. Plus hiding it from the woman who he spent almost every waking moment with felt impossible.

He'd signed the papers when she was in Liverpool, a desperate dream that maybe Em would come back to him.

Telling himself it was an investment and worth it even when he wasn’t fully sure it was. He knew in his heart he’d never rent it out but he had to try something. It was a total lie. But then he flew down to Texas before landing in Miami to sign for the house. The original plan had been to show her when she arrived in Miami. Dan’s sick hope that she’d turn up. But then she didn’t and he just kept hoping until she was finally there.

They’d said they’d stop off on the way to Montana, fly an extra few hours so Em could see it. But she was too fragile and exhausted and trying to put her pieces together. Then it was the summer break but the news about losing his job put the kibosh on that. So finally they were in Austin and couldn’t be disturbed and Em was about to see their home.

October had felt like it would be a lifetime away then. It would be autumn and starting to get cooler. But then she was there and they’d landed in Texas, gone through immigration and were in the rental car on the way to their brand new home.

It was scarier than moving into their apartment in London had been. London had been quick, necessity thanks to living in an Airbnb and needing to find somewhere to pick together. There’d been two weeks thanks to Dan between viewing it and getting the keys. But they’d viewed it holding hands, decided what room would be what.

This was different. Dan had picked it out entirely on his own, she’d had no idea. And she’d known about it for five months, desperately wanting to see more than the photos. If Em was honest she’d half thought the photos weren’t right, the oh so normal suburban home with a little garage attached. But as Dan put the car into park in their driveway it hit her. This was their home.

A lot of the time they had similar tastes. Food, music, and clothes were the big ones, they’d match in a lot of ways. When it came to TV and movies and podcasts they had differences, but unless it was one of his UFC podcasts she was usually happy to watch what he wanted, the same way he’d watch what she put on. One of the things they almost always agreed with - except for LA but Em wasn’t going to have a discussion about how ridiculous a full mansion for himself was - was where they lived and how they decorated. They always liked the same places and were interested in the same things when it came to a home. If there was something weird or one of them didn’t like it, the other generally didn’t either. It was how it worked when they’d found the apartment in London, they’d walked in holding hands and just knew.

It’s how Em knew Dan had to have done a good job when he chose somewhere in Austin. If he liked it, she’d like it, and when the car stopped she knew she was right. Her expectations were that it’d be an apartment in a high rise building, but it was in front of a house. A little country style 1960s house, like the stereotypical one you’d see. It was nothing like the ridiculousness in LA or the farm in Perth. It wasn’t even like the place in Italy Dan was looking at for them to have as a wedding present. It was so normal.

A one family home on a suburban Texan street. A couple of houses had lawn signs out, there were kids bikes on the street. It felt idyllic as Em looked at the pale brickwork and dark door. It felt like somewhere they could relax and just be.

“I know we said an apartment, but when I saw here it was perfect. It feels like us.” Dan held up a key on a cowboy hat keychain, the Longhorns orange logo visible.

“I’m not complaining at all, it looks cute. Time to go inside?”

They walked up to the front door holding hands as a smile spread across Em’s face. She wanted to stop and take it all in, but her excitement was too much. She could stand out in the front yard later, right now was for going inside. All she could do was look up at Dan and how peaceful he finally looked. It had been literal years for him and she couldn’t be more grateful that he’d kept holding out hope for them.

Opening the front door of somewhere new was always exciting and this was no different. She slipped the key in the slot and twisted to feel the lock disengage. Em went to push the door open but before she could Dan lifted her into his arms, nudging the door with his knee.

“Dan, what?!”

“Gotta carry the bride over the threshold, right? It’s my job.” She laughed at the grin on his face as he brought them inside, carefully depositing Em back on her feet in the living room so she could fully take it in.

The room was a blank canvas. Wooden floors with lots of windows and light, white walls just waiting for paint and decoration. Somehow he’d gotten a Welcome Home sign put up in front of the fireplace. It was cosy but had enough space for them and friends to be there. The work and effort Dan had put in was making her tear up before she’d even seen anything else. Then when she did turn around and saw the lavender door she actually did shed a tear.

The one thing she’d wanted in life was to paint her front door lavender. She’d seen photos of colourful seaside towns with different brightly painted doors and decided she wanted hers to be lavender. It wasn’t from Friends, as much as people might think. She’d never been a fan of that show really. But there was no possibility she could do it as a kid, and then in her rented apartments it was never going to happen. But Dan had promised her that he’d do it, and he had just for her. She turned to hug him and held onto him until she could get herself together for a moment.

“I told you we’d have it, it was just a matter of time. I know we can’t have the outside in London, but I thought the inside in Austin would work?”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love it. I love you, Danny.” His arms tightened as she said it, a kiss pushed against Em’s head.

“Love you too. Wait until you see everything else, I think you’ll love it.”

Dan held her hand as they moved through the rest of the house. The kitchen was gorgeous and sitting out on the counter was a set of orange Le Creuset pans that matched the purple set they had in London. It was like her perfect kitchen was right in front of her. The doors to the back garden were there, a deck leading down to grass and it was carefully enclosed. It was safe and beautiful. She wandered outside and looked at the wildflowers growing at the end of it.

She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky. How did he love her even after everything? After everything she’d done, everything she’d nearly ruined? But Dan loved her with everything and he did all of this for her. It was a home, not just a house, and part of her hated that they wouldn’t really spend enough time of the year here. He’d given her everything, and she didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have him.

A quiet sob made her turn around in panic to see a smile on Dan’s face as tears streamed down his cheeks. Her arms wrapped around him, holding onto her husband as he cried. They were both too familiar with tears by this point, and her job was to hold onto him and love him and wait until he was able to speak. These were the overwhelming tears.

“I thought I might never see this place. Especially not with you. I was waiting until you were here to see it in person and I think I’d come to terms that it wasn’t going to happen.” The rawness of his words cut her deeply, Em kissing his jaw as a reminder she was here before she could speak.

“I’m right here, Baby. I’m here. And you’re here with me. We’re together.”

“I know. I know.” Dan kissed her so gently Em thought it could have been a dream until she opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Good…what do you mean you didn’t think you’d see it? You flew out to sign?” He squeezed her and Em knew no matter what he was about to say she was going to worry.

“I did. But I didn’t come here. I signed the contract and hired someone to keep an eye on it and do what I needed. But I couldn’t come here without you. It was for us.”

“You bought an entire house without seeing it?” The disbelief was clear in her voice. Her insane, brilliant, generous husband.

“It was a bad time, don’t judge me.” She never could. Not in a million years. “I wanted to do more things, y’know? I thought about changing the windows out for ones with bigger panels of glass so you have even more light to read, put some screens up so you can open them without bugs. Have some of the flowers out the front under the living room window. Maybe change the roof? The one there is fine but it’s gonna need replacing in a few years. Plus I wanna change the fireplace cause that’s original from the 70s when this was built and I don’t like the tiles. But not without you. Even looking at furniture to buy felt wrong. That’s what you do. You turn the places we live into homes without even thinking about it. Plus, I thought it could be like an anniversary present. Five years ago this week is when I met you for the first time.”

Em settled into Dan’s arms with her head pushed against his neck for an extra moment as she took in what he said. She’d so nearly blown their lives up in April - walked away without so much as a word. But even though she did that he loved her and still believed she’d come back somehow. How could she not be utterly in love with him? She didn’t deserve him but he loved her anyway.

“We turned them into homes. Us. Together. That’s what made them into homes, and it’s what’ll make this into one too. So thanks for waiting for me to do it.” It was a sweet kiss and wiping away the tear tracks from his cheeks as she smiled up at him. They’d turn it into one. She wouldn’t ruin yet another home for them. She couldn’t do that like she had with their first flat. “Show me everywhere else? Please? I wanna see our room.”

The rest of the house was just as perfect. A bathroom with a gloriously big bath for her and Dan to fit, two spare rooms, and finally the master bedroom. It wasn’t stupidly huge, but it was perfect. She could see all the flowers that Dan had gotten planted outside through the window. Em had no idea how he managed to get it done but he did and she’d be forever grateful for it. The other thing he did was get a proper mattress for each bedroom. It wasn’t a full bed yet, there weren’t even sheets, but she could actually lay down. As comfortable as the business class seats were, she just wanted to lie down and stretch. Her sneakers came off in a heartbeat and that was about as quickly as Dan was lying on top of her.

"You like it?" Dan whispered as if to not break a spell. His head was on her shoulder while his arms wrapped around her body to pull her as close as possible.

"The mattress? It's amazing, I wonder how I'm gonna get up again. The house is very nice too." She kissed his forehead while her smile grew even wider. "I love it. I really, really love it. It's absolutely perfect, Love. I still think you're insane, but thank you."

"I'm happy you like it. You know you never need to thank me."

"Really? Cause I think I know a way to thank you and bless this place together."

All Em needed was one kiss on her neck and feeling his grin against her skin to get going. Clothes were thrown off and left on the floor, and the luxury of not sharing a wall with anyone else was perfection. The loud moan as Dan finally entered her with one slow push echoed around the near empty room.

Usually on race weekends she was careful to not mark Dan's neck or scratch his back or shoulders. Usually she'd do her best to leave no marks at all unless it was a break but that day she couldn't care less. Her hands were all over his back and holding him as hard as possible. Part of her brain screamed at her that she was fucking everything up and she needed to stop, but Dan's frown as she went to let go and the way he squeezed her made her continue. If he was prepared for any comments and wanted her to keep going then she was going to.

At least now people knew that she was the one responsible for anything. She sucked a small dark mark against his collarbone, watching as the skin reddened and bloomed. She didn't care about it in the moment. The next day she probably would when his shirt moved the wrong way and everyone saw it but right then she couldn't care less. For once her head was quiet, focusing about how warm her Danny was against her, the way his hands made her feel so good. How he was hitting the perfect spots in her, the whispers of how good she was and how she was his best girl, his only girl. The marks he was leaving against her that screamed she was his. His, his, his.

When they finished it was like magic. Like every time he held her tight and kissed as they came down from their highs, the two of them keeping the other there. It was one of her favourite moments with him since that very first time they'd slept together. The world stopped for a few moments, silent and the only people who mattered were them. When she opened her eyes Dan was there, that smile that made her fall head over heels all those years ago on his face as he stole a kiss and made her smile against his lips.

Years ago the next thing in their routine had been one of them - usually Dan - asking to stay the night even when they shouldn't. That part of their routine was long gone. But the comfort and cosiness of the moment was ruined by Em's "oh shit!" and running to the bathroom, too afraid to mess up the brand new mattress that didn't even have sheets on it. The only thing there to clean up was Dan's shirt and she wasn't doing that to him.

When she came back feeling better Dan still kissed down her legs to make her giggle, Em looking at him smiling up at her. She ran her fingers through his curls as she looked down at the love of her life. How did she get so lucky? She didn't deserve him.

It took everything to get up from that mattress. She was jetlagged and tired and wanted to stay there and fall asleep beside him. She was comfortable and didn't want to leave. But they had things to do, shopping first on the list. If they were staying there for a night before moving to the team hotel they needed basic stuff. Dan insisted they didn't need sheets for the mattress, they had toilet paper and paper cups for their celebration and could get takeout. Even while Dan was trying to say nonsense Em was rolling her eyes and pulling clothes out of one of their cases to put on. She made Dan do the same, even as he insisted she looked better without clothes on.

"Do you really want me to go to Target naked, Love?" The wide eyes and rapidly shaking head was all that Em needed for him to get up and shimmy his jeans on.

For most couples a trip to the supermarket was a normal thing. But they weren't a normal couple, or at least not that normal. Usually groceries were delivered, and the occasional times they did something like this was during the winter break in Perth. They'd go some weekday morning when it was quiet and people didn't notice them. She loved it though. It was like going out with an excitable kid who looked at everything and kept stopping. She got to hold his hand and be normal for rare occasions.

So that afternoon it was a rare opportunity for Em to drag him around. It took a pout to convince him it was a good idea, but an oak milk latte from the Starbucks before they started shopping was all the extra incentive he needed to keep going. But as they started wandering Dan was the one who kept stopping and looking. He wanted the perfect glasses, Em got distracted looking at lipsticks for a new perfect pink. Then they spent time deciding on towels and bedding for not just their room but the spares too. After all that a coffee maker and mugs had to be bought, along with the matching plates and bowls. All of that, plus a lamp, cushions, a fake plant, fairy lights, candles, and groceries for that night and the morning that could be frozen when they were leaving ended up in the trunk of the rental car. Em couldn't stop grinning the entire drive back to their house.

London was a mix of things they'd had in both of their apartments, choosing what they preferred and putting them together with new things when they really needed them. Perth, Monaco, and LA were kind of like that, Em turning professionally interior decorated places into actual homes instead of places where they just spent time. But Austin was different. It was a blank canvass where she could start from scratch and turn it into colour and home and happiness. Even if this trip was just a few things to make it better she could take time and decide what they were going to do.

She barely got to put the sheets on the mattress before Dan was dragging her back down, covering her in kisses. It had been since the summer break when they felt like this, able to hold and love each other and Em able to shut her brain up enough to enjoy it. Thye spent the afternoon and evening moving from bed to couch and back again, ordering takeout from the restaurant Dan made sure they were near, before returning to loving each other. Dan held onto her as they fell asleep, Em content and cuddled in.

The next day was when they were supposed to move to the hotel but neither of them really wanted to. The boys landed and they met with them, checking in, but deciding to spend that night in their home before having to go back to the F1 circus. Instead they spent it with Michael and Blake, Em watching the three of them laughing and joking. It was easier to stay a little on the outside of it all and watch, Dan's hand around her waist as they sat in their favourite bar in Austin yet again eating barbecue and Em drinking a coke and stealing sips from Dan's one beer before the race weekend.

Getting out of their uber and being completely alone once the front door closed was a luxury for Em. They were always surrounded by people, she knew that. Dan loved having family and friends around, loved being with everyone. She'd known that since the beginning. It was one of the reasons - besides the obvious - why she was around the boys so much. Dan loved to bring his people around and Em loved watching him be happy and glowing no matter how loud it was. Usually she could put her earplugs in and smile and it was fine. But at the track and in offices and media centres it was more of the same. There were always people, Dan was always busy.

She'd known from the beginning that Dan wasn't always hers. She had to share the man she loved with the rest of the world. And she knew this, she married him knowing it, but it was hard sometimes. She'd gone in with eyes open that especially during race weeks it was a good week to have a couple of hours alone together. The only thing she asked was that they went to bed together. She'd stay up as long as she had to to do it with him. She always fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. Dan always woke her up with a kiss on her forehead if he had to get up before her as a quiet goodbye and a heads up she'd fully wake alone. It was what they did. So one extra night where they got to wake up completely alone felt nearly perfect.

But some nights, even when they were alone, she could tell Dan's head was somewhere else. This was one of those nights. They were curled up to sleep, arms around each other, but Em could see that his eyes were open and his jaw was tense. Even with the way the last few days were nice it wasn't an easy time. Everything seemed to be slowly crumbling around them. Apart from their relationship it seemed like so much was falling apart and it was impossible. She was doing everything she could to keep the man she loved going but Em didn't have much left to give. There were some things she couldn't fix. She couldn't magic up a seat in a team for him no matter how badly she wished she could do it. She couldn't even negotiate with him, because that wasn't her job. Doing it for the McLaren severance was different, that was for their pride and to prove that team hadn't ruined them. It was personal. But talking to other team principals? She couldn't.

The one thing she could do was reach up and push a kiss to his jaw, watching as he looked down at her with sad eyes. She could ask the questions and support him and love him and give him advice.

"Penny for them?" It was quiet until Dan took a deep breath.

"Should I talk to Haas? Guenther sent over a proposal. It's a seat for n-"

"Absolutely not." The vehemence that she came out with worried even her but she kept talking. "That team ruins people and makes them miserable, and as much as Guenther has been decent to me in the paddock they're run ridiculously. Look at what's happening to Mick, he told Mick last week that he might keep the seat but now you're being offered it? They won't listen to you, they won't care about the setup. They'll mess it up and blame you. They did it to Kevin and then begged him to go back. You deserve better than it."

"It might be the only way for me to have a seat next year."

"I'd rather we call it a day and just go home." Em was blinking back tears as Dan held her closer, watching as she got herself together. "I can't spend another year watching you suffer for a team and their stupid car while you're trying to smile. This year has been so hard, Danny. You deserve better than that. You're so much better than that."

"Do you really want that? Do you want to go home?" The words echoed around her head. Home. She still didn't know what it was. Dan was her home, but she couldn't say anywhere really was anymore. But her tears began to fall and she couldn't stop them.

"We lost too much this year, Danny. We lost a baby. We nearly lost us too. We did lose us for a while and we nearly didn't make it back. I don't have anything else to give it. This sport and this team has taken almost everything. It even took my dignity in Spa. We've given it everything. Baby I love you with my whole heart and you know I will do anything for you. You know that." She took a deep breath as she tried to get the courage to ask.

"I know, Baby girl. I know. And I love you just as much. We're us, that's not changing ever." His words and the warm arms around her made her able to say it.

"You can't ask me to watch you go through another year like this one. You can't do that to me. We can't go through another year like this and you know we can't. If we try it's going to break us. Please. If you love me just...please don't. Be a reserve driver or try something else or any other driving, I'd rather watch you do ovals. Please don't make me have to go through watching you suffer like this again."

She broke down after speaking, feeling Dan hold her even tighter than he had before. She'd never said it. She never wanted to tell him not to drive, she adored him and trusted him to do the right thing. But this was terrifying to watch. She didn't know what she could do except ask him not to drive for once.

"Hey Baby, I've got you. It's alright, Emmy. It's alright. It's going to be fine, Baby girl. I promise. You just take deep breaths. Breathe in with me Baby." She followed his exaggerated breathing until she'd calmed down from the panic attack she'd nearly worked herself into yet again. Her fucking brain. She needed to be calm for this.

"I'm so tired, Dan. I'm exhausted and I don't know if I can deal with another year at a team that won't respect you. This year was too much. I can't lose you again. Please don't make me lose you again."

"It won't happen, Emmy. I swear it's not going to. I'm gonna be right here."

"It happened twice."

And that was her fear. They'd basically lost each other last Christmas, and what should have been the final nail in the coffin was Melbourne. They shouldn't be together. They'd fought for so long, they'd promised each other. But she didn't know if she could fight for another year to try not lose him.

"That was different and you didn't lose me. I fucked up but we're right here. Remember that forever promise we made?" He kissed her ring finger, Em smiling through her tears.

"I almost did and it felt like I couldn't breathe. I can't go through it again. Call me selfish but I just can't."

"You're not selfish. You're the exact opposite of selfish, Babe." The pain in Dan's voice made Em feel even worse than she did saying it.

"I feel like I am. I know how much you love racing."

"But I love you more." He punctuated his words with a kiss before continuing. "I'm chasing loving racing again, and I've stopped loving it now. Maybe it's time to let it come back to me. If it works I can try get a seat in 2024. If not I've got you, and we can work it out from there. I can be a househusband. I was thinking about it, y'know? Maybe it's time for me to be a househusband, you get your year. I'll stay home, make breakfast, do laundry, all that. You deserve a year of not doing anything after taking care of everything I've thrown at you."

"You and I both know you'd go insane if you did that. It'd be fun for a week." A watery giggle escaped, Dan smiling at her ability to laugh.

"Maybe two? But it can be your year. I want you to be happy, not just following me around the world while I'm doing it."

"All I wanna do is be with you. I just...I want you to be my Danny for a while. I don't want to have to share you with the world for once. What I really need right now is to wake up on a weekend and not go anywhere. I want us to stay in our bed, not in a hotel unless we're on holiday. I hate myself for being this selfish and asking you, but I need this."

"A weekend in bed not going anywhere sounds really good right now." Dan kissed her nose, brushing the hair out of her face to make sure Em was looking at him. "I'm telling you, you're not selfish."

"I feel like I am. I feel like I'm making a decision for everyone. Michael's gonna need a new job, it's a mess."

"I was thinking about telling him I think it's better for our friendship to not work together so that'll be fine. Jack's looking for someone for F2 next year, that might work. But you're not making a decision for everyone, you're telling me how you feel. I told you before. If you asked I'd walk away. We deserve to be happy. You deserve that."

"I love you." She held onto him tightly, desperate to make it clear how much she loved him. She didn't deserve Daniel. Not at all. Somehow he loved her even though she'd made a mess of so much. "It's just one year. Then we can go back. You can keep racing till your forties if you want like Fernando. I don't care if you do."

"You really think I want to race that long? Two or three babies and racing around the world for twenty something weeks a year?"

"Seb is. For now." She wasn't looking forward to saying goodbye to someone who'd always been kind to her.

"Yeah, but I don't think I'll be able to do that after our kids start school. There's a difference between Switzerland and Perth."

"If you want to do it the option will be there. As long as you want to keep racing and you're happy you know I'll support you. We can work around anything else." Em snuggled into him at his words, at the knowledge. He wasn't lying. They'd be happy. She'd make herself be happy.

"We can talk about it then. But Toto and Christian have already been in contact about a reserve role. Christian rang before I even did the video. But I'm focusing on you and me first."

"Thank you," Em breathed out.

"For what?"

"For being you. I just wanna be your girl. I wanna be your girlfriend in public and nothing else. I...I need to be your girl for more than a week, not your assistant. I love my job and I love working but I need this. I need to not think about the fact that I share you with the world for a weekend. I know it's a lot to ask but I need that. Just one year. Can you give me a year?" She felt awful asking, but they were there together. She knew he wouldn't feel bad about her asking.

"With one condition."

"Anything you want."

"Marry me. I'll take a year off as long as you marry me."

"Did you hit your head or something? Want to do it again?"

"We said we were going to do it properly, right? I'd propose and we'd have a wedding with our family and that's what I want for us. A year off and we can plan our wedding. Go wherever we want for our honeymoon. No schedule, no fitting it into a two week gap and a honeymoon over the summer break. Just us and the people we care about. So marry me, Emmy?"

"Yeah. This sounds perfect." She kissed her husband, grinning against him as he held her left hand and kissed the perfect engagement ring he'd given her in August when she'd proposed in LA. Getting to do this their way was more important to them than revealing anything else. It felt right.

The next morning when Blake came over for breakfast before the three of them went to the hotel they spoke to him about their decision. It was easier than Em expected it to be, Blake agreeing with both of them entirely. Dan was burnt out, Em was a mess of a human, they were shadows of who they were just a year before. It made sense.

He didn't admit it, but Em knew Blake was exhausted too. He'd been carrying her and Dan for the last six months on his own, a year away from all of their travelling and chaos would be good for him too. They could recharge and focus and next year Blake could start putting feelers out about potential seats.

The other thing they agreed was Em was taking a leave of absence from work. She hated it. She hated feeling like she couldn't do her job. But she needed to look after herself and both of her boys agreed. As soon as Dan said it she knew he was right, nodding and hugging him. At least they got to tell Blake about planning the wedding, and the hug her big brother gave her was worth everything.

Once they got to the hotel it became the normal race weekend whirlwind. Dan was in media and strategy meetings while Em stayed in her hotel room, Criminal Minds on tv while she smiled at her ring and took down little notes about the wedding they wanted. Blake was there showing her the progress he'd made on hiring the horse for Dan's grand entrance to COTA the following day. Her idiot was actually attending press day on a horse. It was entirely Blake's fault for encouraging it months ago.

When Dan got back they facetimed his parents to give them the news, Em crying as Joe said he was happy to finally get to properly call her their daughter now. It was a good day. She was taking the good day.

The only downside to arriving to the circuit was firstly that she couldn't hold Dan's hand because of the horse, and secondly having to hide her engagement ring. She didn't want to take it off, but it was an unspoken agreement that they weren't telling anyone outside their people until after the season was over. They didn't want McLaren using it for media. She didn't want an instagram post from anyone who was firing her husband congratulating the happy couple. She didn't want that orange team involved in her personal life, so the announcement could wait. The nice part was getting to pet the horse Dan was riding. Before Bluey was saddled up she got to brush him down under his groom's careful eye, and afterwards she brushed him and gave him an apple as a treat. It felt like back in Montana, brushing the horses there and her anxiety disappearing for a gorgeous few moments.

Once that was done she didn't have much to do for the afternoon. Blake was officially taking over what she'd been doing, following Dan from meeting to meeting instead of Em. To avoid even more rumours and speculation she wandered the paddock every hour or so with her iPad in hand, chatting to people she knew and acting like it was normal.

It was a weird relief that not working was a help. She still had her therapy sessions with Mildred every Monday - plus a Thursday one before most race weeks - still had her every two weeks psychiatrist appointments to talk about her medication levels, but it felt like it wasn't working. She felt like she was jumping out of her skin, anxiety a constant in her head. A decent part of her wished she could stay in their hotel rooms on any given weekend, but she had to be there for Dan.

Her weekends were most comfortable when she went from the entrance to Dan's room and back again. Nobody bothered her in there, she hid away while her friends and husband were busy, and she felt awkward sitting in hospitality with people looking at her like she was a dead woman walking. So instead she lay along the massage table pinning things to a pinterest board to start wedding planning. Her plan was to show Dan what she liked and they could decide after.

Between taking notes about not wanting designated seats so it could be a mix of people and looking at flower options she dozed off where she lay. Sleep was at a premium for Em on race weekends, but having something nice to think about helped her doze.

She woke up to Dan's kisses against her forehead, not even opening her eyes but reaching out for Dan to squeeze her hand. It was a quick murmur that he'd be back soon, he just had one more meeting and then they could go. Before she knew it Dan was back, helping her stand and fixing her hair so she didn't look like she'd spent the last hour sleeping. They walked out of the paddock hand in hand, ready for the hotel and to curl up in bed together.

"I wish we could just stay in our house instead of here," Em whispered as she looked out the window to the city view in front of them. It was gorgeous, the room was luxurious. But she wanted their house with the mattress that they didn't even have a bed frame for yet. Dan stood behind her, Em resting her back against his front. She could relax and let her anxiety float away for the next few hours until they had to get up and do it the next day and the next and the next, before the brief reprieve before Mexico.

"Saturday night after Blake's birthday dinner? And next time we're here we can stay there full time."

"That sounds perfect."

Waking up on Friday morning was nearly impossible. The universe knew Em wasn't an early bird, but she felt absolutely drained. She didn't want to think about it, but something was wrong with her. She knew when it took Dan shaking her shoulder to wake her up. Usually kisses against her forehead would wake her but the last week or so it had been harder and harder to wake herself up and move more. The kisses were still there but not enough.

"Morning Baby, hey. Sleep well? I've been trying to wake you for a few minutes." Dan was smiling at her as she blinked blearily at him.

"Jetlag? Mornin'. Do we have five more minutes?"

"We're down to ten, but we've got time." He always woke her a little bit early before they actually had to get up. Usually it was fifteen minutes but she'd burned through that time already.

"Mmm, thank you."

It was quiet for a moment before Dan spoke again. "When's your next blood test for?"

She'd been getting them semi regularly since the first doctor's appointment when she came back, the realisation that her iron and calcium levels were low not helping her mental health. The supplements were helping, but the exhaustion remained.

"Before Christmas? I think?"

"Want me to make a doctor's appointment for after Mexico? I can call when they're open on Monday for you. You're sleeping a lot, I just wanna make sure your iron didn't drop or anything. You haven't really been eating much."

She'd been exhausted and barely eating. Part of it was just not being hungry, part of it was nothing was appetising. Even her usual foods that would always make her want to eat weren't it. Even the snack plates that she'd usually pick at weren't worth it.

"Yeah, ok. Just...don't tell Michael? I don't wanna hear about it from him. I don't want more supplement ideas and stuff."

"I won't even think about it."

She went to move to get up but didn't, too comfy there. "'m sorry 'm so tired. It's just been exhausting the last few weeks."

"We'll go home after Mexico and find out. Maybe you just need a med tweak. Or we can go see a doctor here. Go to a clinic, get an iron test to see if it's something to do with that?"

"Nah, we can wait till we're back. Extra naps will work?"

"You'll be all good, Love. I've got you."

Em didn't want to get out of the bed when she was warm, comfortable, and safe in bed with her husband. She didn't want to go to the paddock, and she definitely didn't want to sit in the orange decorated building while the rest of the team just waited for Dan to fail. Again.

But she didn't have a choice, so she got up and got dressed to go stand beside him. Her makeup hid the circles under her eyes, her hair was pulled back, and her outfit was perfect. She could do this. She could absolutely do this. Before they left the hotel room Dan gave her a hug and the sweetest kiss to make her smile.

They held hands for every second they could going through the paddock. All the way down to the car, on the drive in, and walking through the paddock. Dan held her hand proudly as they went in, getting her to go through the barrier first before following her in and taking her hand again.

Em didn't want to be at the track so early, especially when Dan wasn't even driving for FP1. Palou was in Dan's car for it as a rookie driver test, and while she had nothing against Alex she didn't want to watch him. She didn't care about motorsport. It had taken her years of trying to be interested but she didn't care. She cared about Dan driving and that was it. So instead she stayed in Dan's tiny room in hospitality, reading her kindle. The second the interviews and press conferences were done she switched the tv off and kept reading. Her friends were working and getting Dan ready for the rest of the day but she stayed there.

The nice part was that between chapters and looking at pinterest on her iPad for wedding ideas Dan would come upstairs for the briefest hug. He always came with tea and a smile, a quick kiss and a "miss you". He could go back knowing she was fine there.

"You need to go back to work, you're in the car in twenty minutes," Em told him as he dawdled going back downstairs once he was in his orange race suit.

"What if I don't wanna? I wanna stay here with you." She put her kindle away and stood up to take his hand, ready to go stand in the garage to watch him for the hour.

"I could kidnap you and we can go home? Nobody knows where our house is, we can hide there maybe?"

"Is it kidnapping if I'm your husband?"

"I mean not if you go willingly." Dan laughed and his loud honk made her smile. He was there with her and it was worth it.

"You gonna stay here or wanna come down to the garage with Blake?"

"Garage. You know I'm not gonna miss you in the car, no matter what."

"If you need anything just head out, ok? I'll find you after. Just tell Blake."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." She leaned up to kiss his cheek and watched as Dan smiled at her.

"I always worry. Same way you worry about me. It's what we do."

They were about to walk out when Em pulled him back for a moment, watching as Dan looked at her. "I know weekends at your room here used to be more fun and sexy and great. I...I'm sorry it's not like that anymore. Now it's just a mess and yeah. I wish it was like we used to be. I'm just boring now."

"Baby girl, we're married and in our thirties. We're supposed to be boring."

"I'm being serious."

"I know you are." She looked away but Dan's fingers cupped her chin, pulling her up to look at him. "Look at me Emmy. You are the smartest, funniest, most interesting person in the universe. You're my favourite person. You're my wife and I love you. I don't care if we just sit in silence doing nothing for a week. As long as I'm with you I'm happy and having fun. Nobody does it like us. right?"

"Right. And I love you too. Forever and always."

"And to the moon and to Saturn. Let's go and it's one more driving session to the end of the year."

She walked down holding his hand, kissing his helmet and telling him to go fast and be safe before taking her spot beside Blake. Her headphones went on and she stood there holding Blake's hand as they watched the time tick down.

The worst part of the sessions was having to hide her anxiety, the cameras flashing to her and her name appearing on TV. Emma Smyth, Daniel Ricciardo's partner. It still felt surreal that the world knew it. It was pure anxiety as she stood waiting, taking slow deep breaths as Blake squeezed her hand. It was one more hour until she could hide away again.

She hated seeing him in that car. She'd always trusted the cars he drove, always trusted the teams he had. But not anymore. And it was hard because she knew he didn't trust it either. She hated living with the feeling that he didn't trust the car to perform the same way lap after lap. The feeling kept growing in her chest until he was finally wheeled back in when practice ended. He sent her a wink as he got out of the car, Em's smile returning seeing him there safe. If he could have Dan would have given her a hug but he was immediately surrounded by engineers to give feedback to.

By the time Dan was free to leave the circuit it was nearly dark outside. The debriefing took time, and then he had to do partnership stuff that took longer than expected. For this time she decided to be brave and go into hospitality, sitting beside Blake. He kept her distracted by asking questions about things that he really didn't need to ask. For years they'd worked beside each other and it felt totally normal, and even now she wasn't working it felt normal and looked normal. She didn't know what she'd do without him.

Saturday was a day when she had to put her bravest face on because it was Blake's birthday. Despite another day of not wanting to leave the hotel room she got dressed and smiled, following Dan to their best friend's hotel room to give him a giant hug and the presents they'd gotten for him. Her big brother gave her a hug in return, a whispered thank you more than enough for her. She had to hold on for Blake's day. Had to.

She spent practice and qualifying in the garage, holding Blake's hand as usual when they watched Dan get into the car. It had been a happy week in one of their favourite cities, her rings hanging around her neck as she looked on. But instead she watched as the man she loved got out of the car frustrated after Q1, qualifying seventeenth. This stupid team and this stupid car and she had to keep herself together because she didn't want cameras on her.

Dan coming over to say sorry to Blake because he wanted to make his friend proud but didn't broke her heart. It was all Dan ever wanted to do, to make his wife, his friends, his family happy and proud of him. She knew he was aware of the sacrifices people had made to help him, and he was determined to make it worth it. But for nearly all of this two year stint at McLaren it hadn't worked. She'd watched him try. But yet again he was putting a brave face on and a fake smile about how he was going to make up places on Sunday.

She watched him blame himself yet again in front of the media and the world and Em wanted to whisk him away. She wanted to make it all better. He deserved more. She'd seen it with her own eyes, she'd been there when he'd won races. He'd never won them easily. All she wanted was to take him away from the stress and the constant criticism. But she couldn't.

As soon as they were finally alone - after Dan had done media and cooled down with Michael, finally entering his room where Em was waiting. Her arms went straight around him, holding tightly so he could know she was there.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I thought I could get into Q2 for Blake and for you. Make this weekend good for us." She looked up at Dan, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

"It's already a good weekend. You did everything you could, Baby. I don't blame you." Dan just held her tighter, doing everything to keep it together for a few more moments. But then he had to go back to the debrief while Em packed their stuff up. The hotel restaurant was booked for that evening for Blake's birthday. Just the four of them, a chill evening before some of Blake's friends from other teams went to a booking they had in a barbecue place after the race on Sunday. Part of her wished it was just the three of them, pushing that thought away from her head. She loved Michael. She did. He was just difficult to be around lately.

In a shocking turn of events Dan's debriefing didn't take as long as expected. But even with his performance there were fans there to ask for autographs and photos. Em soaked in the love everyone else had for him as he got to glow. Even with that delay they were in the hotel slightly earlier than expected and going straight to their room to get ready.

"We don't have time for a bath, right?" Dan asked, Em kissing his cheek.

"No Baby. We have to be downstairs in half an hour. You have time for a quick shower if you want one."

"Will you come with me? Please?"

It took nothing for Em to agree to go with him, walking into the bathroom and helping Dan to undress as she got her own clothes off. Dan set the shower up while Em stepped in, feeling his arms around her as he got under the showerhead too.

"Can we have a bath tomorrow when we go home?"

"That's the best plan I've heard all week."

Em wanted to spend more time than they had there, trying to get Dan to relax. But instead she carefully washed and conditioned his hair, giving them the love Dan didn't in a normal shower. He did the same for her hair, the apple scent of her shampoo filling the steamy room. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough but they were out, Dan pushing a kiss to the 3 tattoo on her wrist before he let her go.

Five minutes later Em was nearly ready, just running the hairdryer over her so the wet strands didn't dampen her clothes. Once it was mostly dry she was happy, taking Dan's hand to go back downstairs.

Blake and Michael had arrived before the two of them, Em catching the tail end of their whispered conversation with "-my night out, don't do that." all she could hear. As soon as they realised they were there the two men stepped apart as Blake greeted them.

She knew it was serious when Michael didn't make comments about what Dan should order thanks to his race weekend diet. It was even weirder when he didn't say anything about what Em should eat, or how much, or how she should avoid certain foods. She may have been exhausted but she knew it was Blake. The tail end of their conversation was the only evidence she needed to know he'd said something about keeping suggestions quiet.

Em hated to admit it, but it was glorious. She got to watch Dan eat an actual meal that he enjoyed and she was even hungry for the first time in a while. Finishing the whole plate was a challenge but she ate slowly, sipping her drink and putting her fork down when it was finished. The fond look on Dan's face was everything.

The three others at the table looked at her surprised when Em nodded and took a dessert menu. Michael wasn't having one and she didn't want Blake to have his birthday dessert alone. It was easy to pick a strawberry and apple crumble and ask for a second spoon. She ate it carefully in layers, smiling as Dan took a couple of spoonfuls of fruit and left the icecream for her. She ignored the looks Michael gave them as they shared, the plain green tea sat in front of him telling her everything she needed to know.

It was an early night by birthday celebration standards but with the race the next morning they didn't have a choice. It was a hug for Blake and a promise that tomorrow night would involve drinks and dancing and fun. She'd get through it for him, he deserved it.

As soon as the door to their hotel room closed and the latch went on their clothes disappeared to go to bed. The way Dan's arm had been around her waist was all Em needed to know that her husband needed her extra close that night. It was a quick trip to the bathroom to wash their faces and get themselves ready as Em pushed kisses across his face before dragging him to bed.

She really didn't think anything would happen between them, just holding each other and goodnight kisses. Dan had to get sleep before the race, but then his lips moved down her jaw and to her neck, one hand on her ass pulling her in as his knee slipped between her thighs. It was like a flame was lit in her, she needed her husband. She needed to feel him as close as possible. She needed to hear him whisper her name like a prayer, hands holding her tightly and leaving the fingertip bruises that sang she was his and nobody else's to the world. It was electric and everything she could have asked for, groaning Dan's name out as he begged her to tell him everything he made her feel.

Dan helped her up and helped her clean before she went back to bed with him, wrapped up in his arms to sleep. For once on a race night she was able to actually get asleep at a reasonable time, the lub-dub of Dan's heartbeat steady under her ear.

Getting up on race morning was the worst feeling. Em wished she could have stayed in bed. Staying there with a bottle of wine - even if she wasn't meant to be drinking because of her medication - hot water for her favourite tea, some snacks, the latest crappy romance series she was reading on her kindle, and maybe ice cream as she curled up beside Dan in bed would have been the best day. Instead she had to go to a paddock filled with people who wanted photos and autographs from Dan.

If she had her choice she'd stay back in the hotel with her favourite people but she couldn't. She had to make herself look presentable because cameras didn't lie, and she didn't need another "concerned" instagram commenter asking about if she was ok because of a photo where she didn't look perfect. Dan didn't care if her hair was a mess or if she wasn't wearing makeup or if she was in casual clothes, but the world did. So she forced herself up and prettied herself and was ready to leave. It took a deep breath as she held Dan's hand and walked out of the bubble of their hotel room. They were going to their house that night. She could make it work.

The entire drive to the circuit was cuddling under Dan's arm. Holding his hand on the backseat wasn't enough for her. She needed Dan to hold her until they got there and had to let go, and he never ever complained about it.

It was another morning of faking smiles in front of everyone, cameras recording and fans taking photos and calling Dan's name. She'd put her earplugs in before they even reached the circuit to block some of the noise but it didn't fully help. She focused on Dan's warm hand in hers and took deep breaths to keep herself calm. Em ignored the cameras and photographers watching them, instead looking at her husband and at Blake to remind herself she wasn't alone. She focused on Dan's fingers squeezing her hand. He'd promised not to let her go and he wouldn't.

Once she settled down in his driver's room he kissed her goodbye to go to the different race morning duties he had, making sure she was ok. Dan promised to see her as soon as he could and Em sat there and breathed deeply, earplugs replaced with her Beats to match Dan's and music playing. A couple more hours and they were out of there. Dan just had to go around the track and then they were free to go home. Back to their actual house to get changed and celebrate Blake, and go back to sleep on that mattress she'd already fallen in love with.

Dan came back up to get changed, Em standing up to go back to the garage with him. He'd taken the time to come up and give them enough time to see each other and make her feel better before facing the cameras. Usually he was surrounded by Blake and Michael before getting ready but this time it was just the two of them in a moment alone.

When he pulled his shirt off he took the necklace he was wearing off too, handing his rings over to Em to keep safe. She watched him get into the nomex and saw just how slim he was getting. Let the year end. Just let it end. As he stood and stretched he held out his right hand, Em taking it with her left. Just like they had in Baku and Montreal already this year they were going to the garage together. He was walking through the paddock holding her hand and not caring what the world thought. Reason one million why Em loved him.

"Ready to go?" She thought she'd hidden how she was feeling but it was clear from Dan's reaction that she hadn't really.

"You know, right?" Em whispered in response to avoid his question with the one she knew the answer to. They'd tattooed it to keep it front of mind.

"I know, Baby Girl. I love you too." Dan nodded and raised their joined hands to kiss her ring finger. Like always her wedding and engagement ring were on her necklace hiding below her shirt, Dan's joining them for safe keeping for the race. He'd be allowed wear it but that meant publicity and neither of them wanted that.

"Good. Go fast, be safe, and come back to me. Please." She nearly got it out without the final word but Em couldn't help herself, looking up at Dan and trying not to cry. Please be safe. Please come home. She was panicking more and more about what he did.

"I always will."

It was one final kiss and a long hug before they left the room. Blake was standing outside the door waiting for them, clearing a path through the crowd to get them into the garage and away from prying eyes and just where the tv cameras could catch her but nobody else. It was clear he didn't want to leave where she stood, but one nod from their best friend and Dan kissed her on the forehead and went to get into the car.

Em wished he never did.

Qualifying was bad, but finishing second to last was even worse. He'd been overtaken by nearly everyone he qualified ahead of, and he was forever behind a Haas. As much as she adored Mick Dan shouldn't have been down there with him. As soon as he was weighed he came straight to her, the two of them finding a corner to just be for a few moments before the real world had to intrude again. She knew Blake and Michael were making excuses but she didn't care, arms around Dan and holding him tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Emmy. I'm sorry I fucked up and disappointed you." The heartbreak in his voice was too easy to hear and she was so angry that he thought she could be disappointed in him.

"Hey, no. No, Danny. You can never disappoint me. Not ever. Not about a result in a race. I love you. I love my husband. I love my Danny. Fuck this entire circus, I care about you. Not cars on a track."

"I love you too. So fuckin' much. You don't know how much I do."

"I've a slight idea. You're gonna be ok. We're gonna be fine. Three to go."

"Three left. Yeah." He was quiet for a moment and she could feel him taking a deep breath in. "I don't wanna go to media."

"I'll pay the fine if you want. I offered to in Monaco. Whatever makes you happy." She nearly thought he'd take it, but instead she watched as he stood up and pressed his thumb against where he knew their rings hung on her necklace as if for good luck.

"I'll see you after? We can go and pick up our bags from the hotel before we go to dinner with everyone."

"Sounds like a plan, I'll pack up." She went to separate but took her necklace off, unthreading her thin gold wedding ring from the chain before putting it back on. Dan watched as she held it up before handing it over. "For your pinkie. I'm right there with you while you're doing it."

It took everything in her to let Dan leave and go in front of the media. She knew some of the reporters, knew the ones who'd be good to him and wouldn't ask awkward questions that left him with no hope for a good answer. They could leave soon and that was what mattered.

Her brain kept boiling over with revenge plots that she knew in her heart and soul she couldn't let happen. She couldn't destroy McLaren, as much as she wished she could. It would hurt more than help. So instead she focused on putting everything into backpacks. Usually it was done neatly, clothes folded and cables coiled up. This time she just put it all in as fast as she could. She wanted to be out of the room the moment Dan arrived up to say they were free. The TV in the corner was playing an interview with him, and the moment "I don't know how I'm continuing to continue on" came out of his mouth she was so angry. She needed to be out of the circuit.

Everything was nearly done when she heard it. The remote was in her right hand to switch the TV off when Zak Brown's face appeared on it talking about Dan's performance and how he wasn't performing. She knew but seeing him talk about personal problems made her want to scream.

Em remembered Dan's description of his anger that day in Baku when the photo of them was made public. The way everything took over because the woman he loved was hurt and he couldn't change it. He had to control himself because Em needed him. And that evening in Austin she felt the exact same way, but this time there was nobody else to stop her. Without a second thought her fist made contact with the metal door hiding her from the world, a sickening crunch heard as she made contact.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Em clutched her hand to her chest as she stared at the dent in the metal door of the drivers room. She hadn’t meant to do that. It was supposed to be a little hit just to get her frustration out. Instead she couldn’t bend her fingers and she wanted to cry.

The fucking race and Zak Brown opening his fucking mouth because he couldn’t stand that the attention wasn’t on McLaren for one damn weekend. But no he had to say the cost cap penalty wasn’t enough and talk shit about Dan and if it was his face or the door at least his face wouldn’t have hurt so much.

“Ems? You ok?” She looked up to see Blake walk into the room as concern spread across his face. “TimTam what happened?”

“Punched the door.” He moved her hand and she groaned while a tear fell. “Fuck that hurts.”

“I want Michael to look, I think you might have broken it.”

“I’ll be fine till we get to Mexico. I just need to get out of here. Please Blakey.”

She nearly got through to him and convinced him to stay quiet until the door opened and Dan and Michael arrived in.

“Emmy?”

“She punched the door, her hand’s swelling up and it’s already starting to bruise. I think she might—“

“Don’t say it. Just don’t.” She was hanging on by a thread. Someone actually saying it was broken would make her lose every moment of composure she had left.

“Let me take a look.” Dan held her waist as Michael got her to twist her wrist. Flexing her fingers was completely out of the question and even in the ten minutes since it happened it was clear that her hand was swelling quickly.

“Looks like a boxers fracture Wriggle, but you need an X-ray. It might be the finger beside it too. Hospital.”

“I can’t go to the hospital. If I get spotted? If someone realises I’m there? It’s more bad fucking publicity. I’ll be fine.” She rambled for another minute before Dan stopped her with a kiss.

“Give us a sec?” Blake and Michael left the room to let them be alone and Em looked up at Dan. “You need to go, Baby. You need to. I don’t want my wife getting any more injured. I’ll go with you and we’ll be in and out and it’ll be fine. But please. I need to make sure you’re ok.”

“Fine.”

She didn't know how they managed to get out of the circuit without attracting more attention but she would forever be happy about it. Blake found a hotel near their house and pulled up, Dan walking in with her wearing a Ric3 hat to try avoid attention. He had to fill in the paperwork because she couldn't balance the clipboard with her injured hand. Em grinned watching Dan put her married name on the sheet and marking himself as her husband. The hospital needed to know it.

The triage was miserable and she was called back with Dan, leaving Michael and Blake behind. They did the same tests before and then asked Dan to leave the room for a few moments to go out to the waiting area. Her anxiety was ratcheting up as he left after the confirmation that she'd broken a bone in her hand, the medical staff asking her exactly how it had happened and if she was protecting herself. She didn't understand why they were asking until it was too late and Em was left alone in a room with a doctor and nurse.

"You can tell us what's going on. We can protect you." Her exhausted and anxious brain didn't make the connection.

"Protect me from what? A door I won't see again because this was Dan's last race there for...possibly forever? I'm not going to punch it again. I just want to get fixed up and go home."

"Is home safe for you, Mrs Ricciardo?"

They didn't ask that. They didn't. They couldn't. Home was the only safe place she had left in the world. Whether it was the farm, the apartment in London or one of the ridiculous places they called home it was safe for her. Anywhere that wasn't another Hilton hotel room was safe. Lying down with her husband and feeling him hold her was the best thing she had going for her. That was what she needed, to curl up with Dan on their mattress and have him hold her and tell her it was going to be ok.

"Home is my safe place. I've got my home and my husband and my family. Why are you asking this? Where's my husband? Why did you make him leave?"

"We think it might be better for you to-" The soft voice of the nurse made her angry. They were trying to convince her that something was wrong and as little as Em believed in her brain right then she knew Dan was right. He was the glue holding her together.

"You don't know me. You don't know what's best for me. You have no idea. I want my husband. Please. I just want my Danny. why isn't he here?"

"Ma'am, we're just trying to protect you." Em shuffled back on the bed, away from the nurse who had medication in her hand.

"Are you not listening to me? There's nobody to protect me from! I told you already, I punched a door in COTA. My husband didn't do anything, I'm the one who made a stupid mistake. Go ask anyone out there or my therapist or my psychiatrist, my husband isn't a violent man. Danny wouldn't hurt a fly. Why aren't you listening to me? Isn't that supposed to be your job to listen?" The yelling in her head was getting even worse, she didn't want to be there. She wanted Danny and could feel the tears pricking against her eyelids as she shut her eyes. She just wanted Danny.

"Mrs Ricciardo, please. Let-"

"Don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me. I want my hand fixed, and if you think you're touching me you're only doing it in front of my husband or brother. I'm not doing it without them here."

She felt ridiculous. She was like a child throwing a tantrum but her head was screaming. She felt like her skin was on fire, the questions and insinuations about Dan making it even harder to think. Her broken hand was held against her chest as she brought her knees up, good arm wrapping around her legs.

The medical staff moved away from her and Em focused her breathing. She could do it. She'd be ok. If they didn't let her go she could run the second the door was open. She couldn't stay. The boys were outside and she knew they wouldn't leave her alone. They were just sitting outside and she could go out to them once the doctor was gone. All Em could do was try to hold herself together until she could go back outside.

When Dan came back out Blake could tell something was seriously wrong. His best mate was shaking his head, worry and fear spread across his features.

"DR?"

"They think I'm hurting her. They think I'm hurting Emmy. My Emmy? I...they think I broke her hand. The doctor all but wrestled me out of the room. She was crying and they made me leave. They might want to keep her in. I heard someone mention a psych consult for her room. B I can't. She can't." The guilt rushed through Blake's veins at the mention. They knew how fragile Em was. It was obvious that she'd barely made it through the weekend, they all knew that she was barely keeping herself together. But he thought Dan needed him more and left her alone and this had happened.

"It's gonna be ok. She's not staying here. It's not happening." He didn't know where the conviction came from but it did. "They came over and said they needed her insurance information. I have some stuff but you need all of it. Plus pay whatever they need before she comes out and you have to tell her whatever the treatment costs. I'll be here for when she comes back."

"Yeah. Yeah. Thanks. Both of you, I dunno what we'd do. She has to get out."

"She will. Go." He watched Dan be directed to a back office before sitting down and thinking who he could call. Who had the pull here? He wasn't sure.

"Maybe it's better she stays here. Em needs help. Travelling isn't helping. She can get better and Dan can focus on racing and after the season's over she can come back." Blake didn't believe what he'd heard.

"Take that back."

"We both know she's struggling. And you won't let me help her physically at least. Maybe this is a good thing." Michael sounded so sure and that felt like a kick in the teeth.

"We're in Texas. Austin's the good part of it but this state is dangerous for women. Add to that do you really think he'd focus? After how he was when she left. And the one person who calms her down is Dan. Why do you think I keep changing his schedule to give them five minutes?"

"But if she needs-"

"No. Just fucking no. You're fired." Dan had been considering it but after this? Once the season was up he was done. So done.

"Huh?"

"We'll talk about it later. But go back to the hotel. I don't know where we're staying tonight but just go. I don't want you anywhere near her. Not a fucking chance. Get out and stay away." Michael stood to leave as Dan came back, confused.

"What happened?"

"He's going back to the hotel. Remember we were talking about him leaving at the end of the year? I told him."

"But..." Blake didn't want to do it. Didn't want to shove another thing on his best mate's plate. He couldn't.

"He thinks Em might be better staying. He's worried about her too. I told him to go back to the hotel, it's stressful."

"If it was London or Perth I might say yes. She's been sleepy, she's been miserable. Getting out of bed is impossible. But not here, I can't leave her in the States. We just need to get to Abu Dhabi. We can get her there?" He was nearly begging and Blake nodded. Whatever it took he was getting them through the next four weeks. However he could.

"Mr Ricciardo?" An unfamiliar nurse came over and Blake stood at the same time Dan did. "Your wife needs painkillers and a cast. They want to get a psychiatrist down for her but there's nobody on call tonight. I'm assuming from what she said she has one?"

"Yeah. And a therapist. It's been helping but this year has been bad." Understatement of the fucking year as far as Blake was concerned.

"I'm a fan, I know what's happening. I've got an ortho to wrap her hand and get you both out but she won't let anyone in unless it's you or her brother? I don't want them seeing you there, is her brother here?"

"That's me." He watched her take in the clear differences between him and Em, the accents being the most prominent.

"Parent trapped or something? As long as she says you are that's what matters. Come back and we can get her out in ten."

"Deal." He followed her straight back, terrified to see how Em was when he got to the room.

Em was ready to fight anyone when she saw the door open, a new nurse walking in with an IV kit in her hand. But Blake was standing right behind her and Em thought she could breathe again.

"B?"

"Hey Timmy." He came straight over and took her right hand, squeezing once and it was like the crushing weight on her chest lifted slightly.

"Where's...I don't know where Dan is? A doctor took him out to ask him questions and they think he hurt me and they don't believe me? I told them. I told them what I did but they didn't believe me."

"It's ok Emmy, calm down. I'm right here, I told them it was you who hit the door. It's fine. Dan's fine, he's out there filling in forms and billing stuff so he asked me to come back to stay with you. You know what American hospitals are like." She started to calm until the bill hit her. This was going to be insane and he shouldn't have to pay it.

"No, no it's gonna be so exp-"

"You think that health insurance we have doesn't cover America? He just has to give details. As soon as you came on full time he added you to the health insurance. It's all good."

"Thanks Blakey."

"Any time, Timtam. But you need to let the nurse do it, ok? It's just a painkiller so they can set your cast. There's a new doctor who isn't a dick outside. But they can't do it unless you've got fluids and a painkiller cause it'll hurt."

"I dunno what I can take with my medication. I don't want to feel fuzzy." Tears of frustration were there about to fall. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to go back to when she didn't need to talk because Dan knew what she meant. It was too much.

"Do you trust me?"

"You know I do." It was the honest truth. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone, even herself.

"Then let her give you this so you can get fixed up and we can go home. It's all good."

The only reason she agreed was because Blake asked her. He was safe. He was always safe. He was the reason she came back in the end, the reason she agreed to go to Monaco and see Dan again. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and she knew that. So she took a deep breath and squeezed his good hand as the needle went into her elbow, the nurse showing her the bag of saline and the bottle of IV paracetamol before it was hooked up.

Blake held her while they went through everything, a thick white cast wrapped around her hand feeling heavy as she sat there. He kept telling her how brave she was and how good she was doing while Em just sat looked at the floor. Once she was ready to leave he helped her up and put his hoodie around her, the nurse smiling and wishing her well.

If Blake didn't have an arm around her shoulders she would have fallen when she saw Dan outside. His eyes were red, face in a frown and he just looked defeated. He hadn't looked like that since they'd gotten the call that his contract was being ended. Her husband sat in an empty corner of the hospital waiting room with a cap on trying to be unnoticed, totally lost in his thoughts. It wasn't until Blake called him that he realised they were there, standing up and arms immediately going around her. Em felt like she could finally, finally breathe again.

"Can we go home? Please?" She whispered against his chest. The terror that someone would hear and not let her leave was all encompassing.

"Let's get out of here. I finished all the paperwork, they said you were just finishing up. We're all good, let's go home."

"Can we stop for pizza? I want cheese pizza and they said I need to eat." Dan had his arm around her directing her out, agreeing that they'd stop. "Wait. Where's Michael?"

"He went back to the hotel to pack, it's all good. Let's head." Blake led the way to the car so they could finally leave. Em slid into the back seat, Dan across from her and holding her hand.

She didn't remember much of the drive back to the house. She knew they stopped for pizza, Blake getting back in the car with boxes. There was a conversation about what the official story would be, how they'd tell people she'd broken her hand. Honestly she didn't care. She didn't want to give a shit about telling people what she was doing or how she'd been hurt but she didn't have a choice in that anymore. The world got to know everything about her.

When they made it inside Dan brought her to their room, helping her get her jeans and bra off and instead putting on cosy pjs. Blake had seen her in worse, this didn't matter to her. Instead he brought her back to the kitchen where Blake had shared their food out.

She made herself eat two slices and it was enough, after that Em curled into Dan and held onto him so tightly she thought she'd burst. The painkillers had dulled her hand to a throb and she just wanted to sleep. There was talk of moving a flight and sorting stuff and she didn't care. She just wanted to sleep.

But there was a voice in the back of her head getting louder and louder. Dan wiped her face down with micellar water and helped her into bed, pulling her close once he'd stripped down. Her ring was still on his pinkie and it made her smile.

But she'd tied him down to a crazy wife who couldn't keep her shit together. She'd given him the option in Montreal. Chloe had told her about a walk up Mont Royale where you could see the city laid out beneath you. She'd said it to Dan then, that he could leave. She wouldn't blame him for leaving then. He could go and be happy and find someone who deserved him.

He didn't sign up for a girlfriend with mental health problems. Who was having a breakdown and ruining their lives. Who had days where speaking was too much for her, the words wouldn't come.

It had happened since she was a kid. Maybe not exactly like this but she'd always had to find coping mechanisms and now it didn't work. It wasn't her fault as a kid when her parents wouldn't help her and when she was in uni and couldn't afford anything apart from the six sessions from her uni gave her of therapy. But it definitely wasn't Dan's responsibility.

He deserved to be happy, he deserved to be with someone who loved him and wanted him to take a reserve role or the job with Haas. He deserved a happy wife and life and a family that she didn't know if she could give him. She didn't know if her anxiety would ruin them. It was so much.

So she was going to tell him he could leave. He deserved the world and maybe she wasn't the one to give it to him. She couldn't pull him out of drowning and she'd pull him down with her. She was going to ruin him and his reputation and his life, and she couldn't do that to him. She couldn't hurt him the way her mental health had hurt her. Anyone in their right mind would have walked away from her by then, but with the stress no wonder Dan didn't. Everyone else had left. Her parents, her extended family, her friends, her boyfriend. But Dan had been emotional and she'd proposed to him and it was so wrong. She'd basically forced him into it. It was a stupid, stupid decision and she'd ruined his life by doing it. So she was letting him go for his own good. He'd be happy to.

"Baby? Emmy you're crying. Do you need more painkillers? What's going on?" She hadn't realised she was crying. She didn't even mean to. Em took a deep breath before saying the words that were going to ruin her.

"I won't blame you. Y'know. If you want to leave. We've only been married for nine weeks, you can leave. No fault divorce, we leave with what we came in with. I don't want anything. You deserve better than a broken wife who can't keep herself together. I don't want to hold you back. I don't want anything. I can go."

The room was silent and Em could feel her heart break the longer the silence went on. It was over. Married for nine weeks to the love of her life and she had just ended it. In the same room he'd proposed to her so they could get married properly less than a week ago. How had she said yes then? She went to move out of the bed but Dan's iron grip kept hold of her.

"Don't ever say that. Never. Never ever. You are the only woman I want in my life. You're not broken, Emmy. You are here and whole and alive and beside me. I can't lose you. Please don't ask me that. Please don't ask me to leave you because I can't. I'd walk away from all of this before I lose you. You're my wife, Emmy. I promised I love you. I'm not leaving."

"You're not leaving?"

"No. I'm not going anywhere. Never. The day I got to put that ring on your finger was the best day of my life. I love you. The same way you love all of me for some reason. We're gonna fly to Mexico in a few days and we're gonna make you feel better. It's gonna take time, but we're going to be here. It's going to work. I promise. Come and sleep, Love. I'm not going anywhere."

Em curled into him, pushing a kiss against his chest. Sleep didn't come easily to her, but the noise of Dan's heartbeat and the warmth of him against her let her finally sleep.

@dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav @neiich @luckyladycreator2 @scotlynaurora @belledawnidk

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x oc #call it what you want fic #ciwyw writing #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo oneshot #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #formula one fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula one oneshot #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic

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larkandkatydid · 7 months

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Horror About the American West

(definitions of all nouns in that description are flexible)

Angela Carter, American Ghosts and Old World Wonders. This is a UK only release, but in the 21st century, anyone can get ahold of it. Every story is great, but John Ford's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore was life-changing.

Victor LaVelle, Lone Women. Beautiful, hautning imagery of the vast Montanta wildnerness but alos just the perfect scary story set-up: A woman shows up with a trunk that's securely locked and that she won't allow anyone to open....

Alma Katsu, The Hunger. A mildy trashy fictionalization of the Donner Party but has some great creepy scenes.

Claire Vaye Watkins, Battleborn. Is this collection of literary short stories technically horror? Probably not, but Claire Vay Watkisn herself is an icornic horror archetype that shows up in Scream V, Nightmare on Elm Street VI and specifically the semi-obscure Harlan Ellison novella, The Resurgance of Miss Ankle-Strap Wedge, so everything she does counts as horror. But most importantly, the cosmic horror of all these stories is the Nevada desert, which will kill you impersonally.

V. Castro, Queen of the Cicadas/La Reina de Las Chicharras: What if a novel had the balls-to-the-wall gruesome energy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Wouldn't that aboslutely rule?

Tananarive Due, The Good House. This book takes place in the far west coast of Washington State, which is a different, wetter kind of "west" than everything else on this list, but I just adore this book. Due is the closet thing we have to a new Stephen King or Stephen Spielberg in terms of her ability to create these richly realized characters who feel like they have full lives off the page. This books gave me the same feelings of love and catharthis that I felt reading The Shining for the very first time.

Stephen Graham Jones, Growing Up Dead in Texas: This is one of Jones' experimental books that are less fun and accessible than his big hits, but it's one that I think of often. It's a critique of a particular kind of true cime memoir, a refusal to turn one's marginalized childhood into a digestible story for the This American Life crowd. It's an ambitious, post-modern work.

Stephen King, 1922: An underrated King novella that hit all his best notes of grim misogyny, rural isolation and Tales From the Crypt gross-outs.

Gillian Flynn, Dark Places. Not as literary as Sharp Objects, not as tight as Gone Girl, but special and beloved to me. This is a tale of the Farm Aid/ Satanic Panic 1980s and really wallows in the isolation and misery of the great plains, .

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ghouljams · 4 months

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I love the idea of this random small town in the middle of nowhere that’s just overrun with former military and their darlings, especially with ones belonging to rival factions. I can just imagine the first time the 141 or Alejandro & Rudy see Graves out and about, like you could cut the tension in the general vicinity with a knife. Idk but as someone who works in a rural farming community this particular AU is one of my favorites, it’s just comforting and familiar

The absolute devastation that happens at the first Ag hall meeting when the 141 and the shadow company show up...

It's lucky everyone's farms are fairly far apart and Graves' PBR career has him on the road a lot. Everyone tries to be polite, but... there's only so polite you can be to the people that betrayed you. Although I don't know how familiar Ale, Rudy, and the 141 would be with individual shadows, so as long as no one talks about what they were doing before cowboy-ing they're fine. (and I doubt anyone is super forthcoming about their time in the forces)

I do love that this small town has an overabundance of just... beautiful singles. Like what happened there? Combination of darlings moving to town to avoid something or growing up there and sticking around? I'm sure someone makes a comment about it. So many new farmers and ranchers too, this place is definitely on a watch list.

The government gets some new dangerous asset and they need to hide them somewhere? Idk just send them to that weird town in Texas for a few months, they'll probably end up married with children by the time we need them to do any work(and we can use their new family as leverage)

#ghoul speaks #cowboy au

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missathlete31 · 3 months

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Okay so Jake brings the Daggers back to Texas with him to show them the little ranch he owns. While there, a cold front comes in setting up a possible record number of tornados a few towns over. Half the team wants to go chasing but Jake has bad memories of storms growing up. When he was little an F5 hit his family’s farm killing his grandfather when it snatched him right in front of a young Jake. Fearful of storms ever since Hangman is adamant the team stay as far away from twisters as possible.

But suddenly these storms seem to change their direction, heading right for them. Jake is now forced to keep his team safe while battling his past.

What happens when the chasers become the chased?

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #top gun au #dagger squad #twisters #just playing around

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growinginsa · 1 year

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#homesteadng #books #nerd #growing your own food #sustainability #gardening #canning #farming #preserving #vegetables #ball canning #backyard garden #texas gardening

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chelseypprimrose · 10 months

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Farmer Wants a Mistress / farmer!negan x richbrat!reader / 18+ / AU

Summary: Living the good life since you married into money, you’ve become desensitised to the more simple ‘live off the land’ lifestyle of your sister. Her husband Negan sets out to teach a harsh lesson for you not to be so judgemental.

Warnings: infidelity, brat!reader, smut, rough sex elements, use of “hayseed hick” which are derogatory terms for a farmer, degrading terms, outside/forest sex, spitting, choking, negan is a warning in its self, mean!negan, slapping, dumbification (slightly), oral (male receiving), slight hint of dacryphilia

A/N: i need sedating, this GIF, oh my good LORD. fyi, i do not condone anyone looking down on another person for their profession/how much they work or earn, this is purely fiction and the needed attitude for the brat character/reader! also i’m telling you now, reader is a BRAT, like ‘Wild Child’ Poppy Moore level of brat, if that isn’t your thing, this probably isn’t the fic for you! 🤍

“god, i don’t know why i even let you drag me here, we are in the middle of nowhere.” you huffed, using the inflight magazine you’d taken from the flight to fan yourself off, unaccustomed to the sweltering heat of texas this time of year. your sister’s grip of the steering wheel got tighter, trying to hold her tongue at your obvious annoyance.

“i’m so sorry it’s such a inconvenience for you to visit your only sister, which by the way, you only do once a year.” she sniped back, rolling her eyes. adjusting your sunglasses on your nose, you stared out at the crop farmlands as you drove past, a vast difference to the city skyscrapers you were used to back home. “look, i’m just not the biggest fan of farms, or farm animals. they smell and it’s just too much work! why you ever let yourself marry into this, i’ll never understand.” you quipped back, throwing the magazine down into your lap as it wasn’t doing anything to help your rising body temperature.

like she had said, you only ever made the journey from new york to texas once a year to visit your sisters side of the family, granted it was only the two of them. her and her farmer husband, Negan, born into a farmer family himself, he’d taken over the land once his parents had moved on, settling for a smaller place, unable to keep working due to age. him and your sister had married a year after you and your own husband had, the two men couldn’t have been more different if they tried.

your own husband was a banker, giving you a penthouse apartment, what seemed like a unlimited supply of money and multiple trips away every year to the most luxurious resorts and locations. growing up poor and then overnight having more money than you knew what to do with had changed you, you wouldn’t deny that.

you couldn’t remember the last time you had bought anything that wasn’t designer, having your hair done monthly and various spa weekends, keeping yourself in tip top condition. you and her led very separate and different lives, you couldn’t help but feel like she’d got the short end of the deal, slaving away on a godawful ranch seven days a week.

she finally pulled up to the front of the farm, the slightly open window forcing you to smell the various animals that were loitering around outside of the barn next to the rustic-styled house. the exposed white wood of the front porch, multi-coloured chicken wind chime made of bamboo hung off the plinth of the patio, making small clinking noises from the slight wind that gathered up the dust of the grain. all these elements together started to remind you that you were far from your own home comforts of proper electricity and pleasant smells.

you opened your door, being careful not to step in the mud that was right under your feet, your stiletto heel digging into the soft ground. walking around to the back of the car, you opened the trunk, taking out your louis vuitton suitcase, stopping in your tracks when you realised you didn’t want to put it on the muddy ground. “have you got something you can take these in on?” you questioned, your sister looking at you in disbelief.

“jesus christ doll, it’s goddamn mud! it’ll wash off, don’t get your panties in a twist.” you whipped your head around to the bellowing deep voice, eyes setting on him as he made his way over to the car. you moved one of your hands off the handle of the suitcase to your hip to jaunt it out at him. “oh i’m sorry! let me just put my bag, that’s probably worth more than your house, on the dirty ground. i take pride in my possessions Negan.” you retorted, your sister sighing in defeat, taking the bag from your hand and walking with it towards the house. you took your sunglasses off your face, Negan now stood right next to you, his arm leaning on the side of the car, looking at you. dressed in his usual brown cowboy hat, opened mustard yellow flannel shirt with a slightly off white tank top underneath, cargo trousers with a thick black belt to keep them up. the long, black leather pendant sitting just above his naval.

“i always love when the city mouse comes to visit, you ready for a week in hell, princess?” he laughed, rolling around a toothpick between his pearly white teeth. not that you had anything against the man before he married your sister but he absolutely revelled in mocking you whenever you came to stay, you imagined he saw you nothing more than a spoiled little girl, not understanding that you just preferred the finer things, even if you were a bit of a snob when it came to his way of life. not that you really cared for his opinion on you. you’d imagine that if circumstances had been different, you would have been attracted to such a handsome man, if only he’d change that usual cowboy get up for a nice three piece suit.

“if it isn’t the hayseed hick himself, how are you darling?” you threw your insults right back at him, this was just how you communicated with each other, both of you had tongues as sharp as swords. you grabbed your other bag from inside the trunk of the car, moving to take it to the house before his large hand grasped over yours that was on the leather handle. “let me take it, wouldn’t want you to break a nail, princess.” Negan laughed, before using his other hand to close the trunk firmly, causing you to jump slightly out of its way. you followed closely behind him, Negan taking wide strides, his hips moving slightly as his forearm muscles tensed from the weight of your bag in his hand.

“did you pack for the month or something? jesus christ.” he managed to huff out, even with how strong he was, it felt like you’d put rocks in your bag. “not all of us can just take a toothbrush and clean boxers on holiday with us, Negan. not that you’d know much about that, furthest you ever go is the farmers market, is it not?” you bit back, using your hands to push your hair back out of your face, having to put your sunglasses back over your eyes to avoid the harsh dust from getting into your retinas. you pushed past him, walking up the steps to enter the house, a small grimace on your face as you remembered how much your sisters place looked like Dorothy’s house from the Wizard of Oz.

it was honestly like you’d gone through a time machine back to the 1900’s, your sister didn’t even have a TV in the place, no wi-fi or good working signal. Negan followed up behind you, almost denting your case with how harshly he’d placed it near the staircase. “jeez, be careful with that would you!” you exclaimed, picking it back up off the ground, starting to make your way up the stairs, heels making it a difficult feat. Negan started to laugh at you struggling, causing you to turn around to give him a death glare. “i’m glad this is funny to you, most men would be gentlemanly and help a lady with her bags.”

“i would doll, but i don’t see a lady here.” he continued laughing at you, your mouth dropped wide at his rude statement, slightly growling you stomped the rest of the way up the stairs to your assigned room you always stayed in when you came here. god, you couldn’t wait for this week to be over but it was only the start.

“god honey, i know you don’t like the way they do things but this is your sister! she’s family, you have to respect their lifestyle. you are a guest in their house.” you rolled your eyes, your husband clearly wasn’t getting how annoyed and stressed out you were. “i’m honestly trying! you come here and get woken up by a damn cockerel at five am in the morning and see if your still saying the same thing then!” you crossed your arms over your chest with your phone held up to your ear, angrily pacing back and forth on the porch, the only place you could get one bar of signal. it was no use telling your husband the grievances as he’d only been here once and he always seemed to forget how hellish that week had been for him, how he sighed a breath of relief once you got on the plane home.

“you’ve only got a couple more days until you’ll be back here with me, i’ll set you up a appointment with the spa, give you some time to relax, okay?” you smiled, almost jumping with glee. “oh thank you! god knows i’ll need it after being around all these horrid animals.”

“goddamn it!” you turned your head towards a very angry Negan, the hosepipe he’d been using had sprayed all over the front of his clothes, causing the wet fabric to stick against his abdomen. he grabbed the bottom, whipping it over his head, using his strong hands to wring the water from the top. the veins in his arm were in full motion, you could see his muscles flexing, his toned abdomen now on display. the light of the sun caught his frame just right, the hot temperature making the light sheen of sweat mix with the water he’d just got all over his torso. you couldn’t take your eyes off his body, like a mirage in the desert. you’d never found yourself looking at him this way, his dirty mouth turning you off him from the very second he opened it but silent like this, he was a vision.

he could feel a pair of eyes on him, his gaze shooting up to look towards you. “honey? honey? are you still there?” you snapped back into reality, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in your throat. you turned your back to Negan with a quickness, heat reaching your cheeks as you realised you’d been caught gazing at him. “yeah, i’m here.” you answered your husband.

Negan softly chuckled to himself, already coming up with a rolodex of new material to tease you with.

two days, two days was all you had left to endure before you could take your leave and go back to new york. while you’d like to say you’d had a pleasant experience, that would be far from the truth. your sister had convinced you to do some grunt work while you’d been here and out of sheer boredom due to the lack of entertainment here, you’d begrudgingly agreed.

this had resulted in being bitten by a chicken when trying to retrieve its eggs, causing Negan to nearly die with laughter as you yelped out, a small trail of blood seeping from your finger. he’d took your delicate hand in his rough one to assess the damage, claiming you were being a big baby about it, giving a small kiss to it which made you freeze up at his inappropriate action. you felt it was more just to make you feel more embarrassed, knowing he loved to do things to antagonise you even further. you’d yanked your hand out of his, giving a small noise of disgust before stomping away from him to get a plaster.

you’d been given the more easy task of brushing the horses, claiming you didn’t want to get bitten again and your sister swore the horses were completely domesticated and not prone to acts of aggression.

you’d nearly finished when you saw Negan coming over to you, that small arrogance in the way he sauntered around this place. “any more injures happen today doll?” he asked, leaning on the barn doorway, that usual toothpick in his mouth. you sighed, dropping the brush back in the tack box and crossing your arms over your chest. “no, nothing for you to make fun of me today, i’m afraid.” he pushed himself off the doorframe, taking a couple steps towards you. “come on doll, let’s go for a ride. i need to go and get more firewood from the forest, live a little. i tell you, having the wind blowing past you when you are on the back of these magnificent animals, no feeling like it in the world.” your eyebrow raised a little, you were actually considering it for a good while.

you sighed, not like you had anything better to do. “okay fine! only if you do the actual work. i don’t feel like getting my hands dirty.” you agreed, letting him walk past you to get the riding saddles and strapping them to the horse. he did it with ease, stepping up with his large boot to get his foot into the stirrup, his long leg being thrown over the horses back. he put out his arm to help pull you up on the horse behind him, you’d hadn’t realised how close your groin would have been to his back with you sitting behind him, the feeling making your body betray you with how good it felt to be so close to him.

he started at a slow pace, guiding the horse out of the open stable door, setting off for the wood that you could see vaguely in the distance at the back of the farmland. you’d been holding onto the metal bar that was at the back of the saddle before Negan let out a laugh. “hold on doll!” your face contorted into confusion before Negan gently applied pressure into the horse with his leg causing it to accelerate into a fast gallop. you slightly squealed, taking your hands off the bar and threw your arms around his torso, nearly in death grip, scared of coming off the animal with how much bouncing around you were doing. your hands linked around the front of him, you could feel the hard abdomen muscles underneath his tank top, you knew he’d done this on purpose to either annoy you or try and get you to come off the horse.

the leather underneath you kept rubbing against your core, the bouncing causing your clit to keep hitting the seat, a small wetness gathering on the material of your panties underneath your flowy dress. well, at least horse riding was good for something, you thought to yourself.

you’d finally got into the wood, Negan bringing the horse to a stop, dismounting with you still on the back, tying the reign to a small stump of a tree. “can you help me get off please?” you asked, looking down at how far you were above the ground, getting a little nervous at getting off by yourself. “move your legs to the side and jump down, don’t worry doll, i’ll catch you.” he reassured you, his arms coming out, his fingers moving in a ‘come here’ motion, that stupid grin on his face at your obvious nervousness.

you brought your right leg to the other side of the horse, your palms digging into the saddle, you made no move to jump off, slightly worried about Negan actually catching you. he huffed, grabbing you by your thighs, causing you to let out a slight scream before he pulled you off the horse, his hands sliding from your thighs, trailing up your bodies sides as you slipped down from the height.

your legs were now wide open, your feet finally meeting the ground, Negan’s hands still placed on your waist as you looked up at him. you realised he was still touching you, before you pushed his hands off you, smoothing out your dress. “thank you but i was just about to jump down myself, i didn’t need you to manhandle me, farmer boy.” you snapped, walking away from him to pet the animal. he slightly chuckled, while moving to grab the axe from the satchel that was strapped to the horse.

“sure you were, princess.”

you’d been here for around half a hour, helping Negan by putting the chunks of firewood in the bag on the back of the horse. your hands were red from gripping the wood, trying to avoid getting any splinters, causing you to be quite slow at packing it away.

“you do know, you could go a bit faster doll, we’ll be out here until nightfall if not.” you rolled your eyes at his taunting. “i don’t want any further injuries thank you.”

he growled, obviously annoyed at how unwilling you were to pick up the pace. “look, you might be able to sit around doing absolutely nothing back in your fancy palace at home but i’d rather not get my ass chomped by whatever creature could be lurking in this place, so just pick up the pace, please.” you scoffed, turning around to face him, he had the axe in both hands, his hip slightly twisted to face you. “no, you look! i don’t know what kind of impression you’ve gathered in your head of me, but.. yes i don’t do much work, yes i’d rather play the pretty housewife than go out and bend over backwards for work. if that makes me lazy, then so be it. i can’t help i have a taste for a easier way of life.”

it was now his turn to scoff at you, he threw the axe down to the ground, taking large footsteps towards you, you back yourself up against a tall tree behind you, the sharp bark of it digging into your skin a little. he towered over you before bringing his face closer to yours, his arm just above and slightly to the side of your head, resting on the tree.

“you mean your pretty little life of faking orgasms for your dear clueless husband? faking pleasure so you can continue to use him for his precious fucking money, that the easier way of life you are talking about?” he taunted, you screwed your face up in anger, how dare he?!

“excuse me? how dare you make your false assumptions about my marriage?! who do you think you are?!” you shouted out at him, taking your hands off the bark of the tree to try and push him away from you. not even moving him a inch due to his strong frame, he grabbed your wrists, forcing your hands above your head, digging them into the rough surface.

“oh give me a fucking break sweetheart, you think i didn’t notice the way you looked at me the other day. looked like a damn fucking dog in heat, you need a proper man like me to teach you some fucking manners. the way you look down at me from your ivory tower, i’ve kept the peace for your sisters sake but now i’m getting fucking tired of it, princess.”

“i don’t know what the hell you are talking about! like i’d ever look at your hillbilly ass like that, Negan, you must be joking!” you slowly laughed, truth not really following your words and he could tell. he gave a gravely laugh back, he moved his hand off your wrist, now applying more pressure with the remaining one so you couldn’t move. he moved his other under the skirt of your dress, fingertips brushing your inner thigh.

“let’s take a wager doll, if your panties ain’t fucking soaking for me right now, i’ll let you go. if they are? well, you’re going to get a lesson in basic southern hospitality from good ol’ Negan, let’s see shall we?” you tried to come up with some sort of smart mouth retort, the pure lust in his tone had you silent. his fingertips finally moving over the lace of your panties, his mouth moving to a wide grin when he did indeed find that the material was absolutely soaking wet.

“well, well, well? would you look at that?” he moved the lace to the side, now running his fingers up and down your folds, his fingertips now slick with your juices.

“don’t fucking flatter yourself, farmer boy. i just haven’t had any in months.”

the hand he used to hold your arms quickly pulled off, a slight slap to your cheek, the skin underneath turning red at the motion before he grasped your chin roughly.

“you still never fucking learn do you, you fucking slut. wet over your sisters husband, ain’t so prim and proper now, are you? now i think the only way to finally shut you up is to stuff that pretty fucking mouth with my dick, get on your fucking knees.”

his voice dark, you swallowed hard to be rid of the lump in your throat. he whipped you around so his back was now against the tree, pushing down on your shoulders to get you to your knees, his large frame now looking even more scary looking up at him. he unbuckled his belt, undoing the button of his cargos to pull out his impressively large and already hard cock.

you cried out, small tears leaving your eyes at his size, it was bigger than you’d had before and the thought of it being inside you, scared you to death while also causing your panties to get even wetter.

he laughed, grasping your hair roughly into a painful, makeshift ponytail. “keep those tears coming princess, just makes you even sexier, down there on your knees for me, now open that fucking slutty mouth, i’ve got a present for you.” he grasped the base of his dick, his fingers pulling your hair even more as he guided his cock towards your mouth. you reluctantly opened as wide as you could, the salty precum meeting your tastebuds.

“goddamn! ain’t that the prettiest sight i’ve ever seen!” Negan grunted out, his hips rocking forward to force more of his cock down your throat, the whimpers coming from you making him hiss in pleasure. your spit gathered at the base of him, getting caught in the soft hair there. he was enjoying the sight of you softly crying on your knees for him.

he kept himself buried at the back of your throat, keeping you struggling to breathe, coughing and gagging around his length, Negan throwing his head back at how good your mouth felt wrapped around him like he was. your mouth bobbed up and down against him, you tongue tracing the underside of his length, as he rolled his hips, looking down at you, savouring seeing you completely obedient to his control.

he pulled himself out of your mouth, finally letting you breathe, your throat and jaw burning with the force he’d had held you at.

he forced you up by your hair, moving you over to a large, jagged rock, your back forced against the cold surface.

“spread those pretty legs for me, slut. i want to see how wet you are for me.”

you moved your legs open for him, your feet coming to rest on the side of the rock, knees bent. Negan pulled your dress up to bunch around your torso, he yanked the top of it down, exposing your tits to the cold forest air. he grasped one in his hand, flicking your nipple, giving it a harsh slap afterwards. you yelped at the pleasurable pain of it, your breathing becoming ragged and unsteady. moving your panties to the side again as he had before, he gathered saliva and spat right on your core, the dirtiness of the action causing you to moan. giving a slap to your pussy, you whimpered at the pain that shot through your chest, head thrown back before he threw your leg over his shoulder, pulling your head back by your hair to meet his eyes.

“none of that doll, i want you to look at me while i stretch this pretty pussy out. look at it squeezing for me, begging for me.”

Negan hardened his grasp on your leg, holding on to it, he released your hair to run a finger up your pussy, your juices collecting on them as he bought them up to his mouth, sucking on them.

“you taste fucking divine princess, i’d eat this pretty little pussy all day but you don’t deserve that do you? you need putting in your place, this ain’t meant to be enjoyable for you, now is it?”

he lined up at your opening, letting no time go to waste before he entered you, filling you up to the hilt. you softly moaned when his hips snapped against yours, tightening yourself around his length, the pleasure nearly too much for you to handle. your back scraping against the uncomfortable rock, knowing you’d have cuts afterwards but you were too focused on the situation at hand.

“goddamn princess, absolutely squeezing me, this is what you wanted isn’t it. you may not respect my lifestyle but you couldn’t wait for me to teach you a fucking lesson could you?”

you could only moan, his hand that wasn’t on your leg coming down to wrap around your throat, thumb pressing down on your windpipe, restricting your breathing. it would have scared you, but in a funny way you trusted Negan to guide you through the experiment of a intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.

his thrusts built up in not only speed but aggression as well, your body contorted into a curve as he pulled you to meet your lips in a rough kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, biting on your lower lip as his hand still wrapped your throat. your arms gripping onto his broad shoulders, pressing down your nails into his tanned skin.

“i can feel how wet you are, you slut. come on princess, i want to feel you soak my fucking cock.”

your mind was hazy, absolutely cock-drunk from this man, never had you had such pleasure in your marriage, never realising how much the thought of being used would light such a unknown fire inside you.

“nega-negan i’m going to cum, please, can i cum?” you begged, your voice almost stopped as he rammed into you, the pressure on your throat causing your begging to come out as a broken set of words. the thought of something or someone coming along and seeing your sisters husband and you in such a precarious position made your mind run at a thousand miles a hour.

“go on you slut, come all over my cock, i wanna see those pretty eyes roll back into that empty fucking head of yours.”

that was all the permission you needed as you let yourself go, your body trembling, overwhelming pleasure as the shame of what you just allowed your sisters husband to do to you washed over your brain. it was the first time you’d ever squirted in your life, your juices dripping over Negan’s cock as he followed close behind you to his own release.

he came himself with a loud grunt, small whimper mixed in as well. “yeah, let me fill that tight pussy up, want myself dripping down your thighs for the rest of the day princess.”

he let go of your throat, you both trying to catch your breath, your task being harder than his as his choking had almost cut off your circulation. he leaned against your leg, watching as his seed started to slowly spill out of you, laughing at the sight.

“that is fucking gorgeous, look at that! have you learnt your lesson doll?” you weakly nodded, your eyes meeting his.

maybe you could stretch to a couple more visits a year.

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shewhoworshipscarlin · 3 months

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Anderson Bonner

Prominent Texas landowner and businessman Anderson Bonner was born enslaved in Alabama around 1839. Not much is known about his younger years. Family history states that Bonner was given as a wedding present to the daughter of his former master, who moved him from Alabama to Arkansas. Anderson may have been “refugeed” in Texas during the Civil War when nearly 100,000 enslaved people from neighboring states were forcibly brought there by slaveholders to avoid the Union Army freeing them as it gradually occupied more of the Confederacy. If Bonner was in Texas by 1865, he—like other Lone Star state enslaved people—gained his freedom when Union General Gordon Granger and Union Troops under his command arrived in Galveston on June 19, 1865 and pronounced the end of slavery. That announcement became the basis for the Juneteenth holiday.

Sometime in 1865 Bonner married a woman known only as Eliza. Over time the couple had ten children, Anderson Jr, Newton, William, Ed, John, Andy, Mary, Martha, Charlie and Nash. Bonner arrived in Dallas, Texas, around 1870 with his brother Louis, and sister Caroline and they worked on a farm in the White Rock Creek area. Bonner by this time had acquired modest wealth. The 1870 Census lists his financial worth at $275 or approximately $5,456 in 2020 dollars. On August 10, 1874 Bonner purchased sixty acres of land, signing the deed with an “X”, as he never learned to read or write. He soon began leasing his land and the houses on it to cotton growing sharecroppers. With the money he earned, he bought more land. Bonner eventually amassed over two thousand acres of land in what is now North Dallas and the Dallas suburb of Richardson. The Medical City Dallas Hospital now sits on what was once the Bonner farm and the North Central Expressway divides Bonner’s original property.

Census records in 1900 reveal that six of the ten Bonner children still lived on the Bonner farm. Cotton, corn, and fruits were grown on the family farm worked mostly by Bonner, his children, and sharecroppers. Bonner’s sister, Caroline married into the Fields family, and one of her children married into the Giddings family, both prominent African American families of Dallas in the late 19th Century. In 1903, Eliza was killed in a oil lamp explosion in the family home. Sixty-four-year-old Bonner then married a woman named Lucinda, but the couple had no children.

Anderson Bonner passed away at the age of 82 in 1920. He was buried in White Rock Colored Union Cemetery (now White Rock Garden of Memories Cemetery), in Addison county. His descendants established the Anderson Bonner Endowment Scholarship that helps support Richardson Public School students who attend Prairie View A&M University. The first public school for black children in the North Dallas, the Vickery and Hillcrest school was renamed the Anderson Bonner School before its closing in 1955. The city of Dallas officially named the park west of Medical City Hospital, Anderson Bonner Park in 1976. The park consists of 44.1 acres of Bonner’s original land.

#historical #black history month #land owner #formerly enslaved

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rotten-corpses-blog · 10 months

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Slasher men with a southern reader

Hey! so something is up with my tumblr, I started writing someone's request, saved it to drafts and now its gone...

So I wrote this, because i'm a little southern girlie (Help i'm dying down here) If, you aren't southern, or are and don't have the same experience as me, that's ok. I'm writing this from what I delt with as a kid living in the Southern United States.

Characters: JD, Billy Loomis, Stu Matcher..... Content Warning: mentions of bigotry, and republicans, poverty and food insecurity mentions

JD is actually from Texas, so I don’t think he would really have a problem with any accents or anything of that nature.

Depending on where you are from in the south is also important, he understands Texas culture… not any other parts of the south. (yes there is different culture depending on where you are, some parts use different words and phrases than others, food is also different)

He would be understanding about family who have… different political opinions and all that.

He gets the poverty and food insecurity, because he saw that stuff traveling around from place to place.

Billy

Billy is from California, he grew up with none of the stuff you did so he’s not going to get it, he’s not an asshole, you just have to explain it.

He probably won’t understand any type of southern accent, even if you feel it’s mild, he still can’t understand you sometimes.

After awhile he will pick up on some of your speech patterns and start saying y’all and ain’t

If you grew up in poverty, he will kinda be weirded out. He’s a rich kid from California and has never experienced, or maybe ever saw poverty.

If your family is anything like mine, they will bitch and moan about him being from California. He doesn’t see it as a big deal, it’s not like they have to learn a new language.

He will be kinda shocked when he meets them. “Y/N… your uncle is crazy!” “No, he’s just like that, don’t worry Billy.”

Stu

If you thought Billy was bad, Stu is worse.

Not only will he not understand anything, he most likely grew up thinking all southern people were cowboys or farmers.

He grows to love southern food and will ask you to make him something almost everyday.

He’s even richer, so he seriously thought for a while that everyone had houses like his and designer clothes.

Again, he’s a Cali boy. You couldn’t pay him to set foot on a farm or anything like that. “Y/N, we pay people to do our yard work, That’s why it looks so good!”

He loves your conservative relatives, he thinks they are so funny. I mean, we all love a good conspiracy theory on and again.

#jason dean x reader #billy loomis fluff #stu macher smut #billy loomis #billy loomis x you #yandere billy loomis x reader #yandere billy loomis #billy loomis smut #billy loomis x reader

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thatgoblin · 4 months

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Summary: When John goes on a cattle run, you and Simon get some time to get closer.

Warnings: Past sexual harassment, smooches, cuddles.

“What is she doing?” I mumbled, watching the movie on the TV. “How is that even comfortable to stand like that in heels?”

“I don’t think it is comfortable, Sweetheart,” Simon said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in my lap. “It probably feels like she’s walking on glass. The woman deserves an Oscar for acting through the pain.”

“Really.”

Simon was the only one home with me for a week and a half. John had to haul some cattle across the damn country with a friend, only known as Soap from what I had gathered, of theirs to make sure they got the best prices from a buyer in Texas. I hated that he’d be gone for so long, but I also knew that it meant we’d get a big paycheck and would keep bills at bay another month or two longer. That was something no one really talked about with ranches and farms. There were so many bills ranging from utilities to taxes that you’d think we were making bank with the herefords that we sold. If anything it just barely got us by.

But that was the other thing about owning and working a ranch or a farm. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it because it was what you loved. It was because we loved the life we were living that the money didn’t matter so long as we could make our bills on time. It didn’t leave much room for big vacations or big toys that some, much larger, ranchers had. We didn’t need those though. We were happy spending our evenings together in front of the TV after a long day of working while laying with each other.

It had been nearly three weeks since I’d arrived and I had settled even more. There was no more hiding emotions or ducking affection. I talked out my feelings and even gave my own touches of affection. In getting more comfortable with the two Alphas, I began to let down my guard more and more. To the point that we even walked around in towels. Only towels.

I wasn’t ready to take that next step of plain ol’ nudity, but I did enjoy watching John in his towel that skirted above his knees. He was strong and hairy, his arms and legs covered in dark sandy hair that didn’t do a thing to hide the very solid muscles that let him easily carry Simon around as much as he liked. My favorite part was his belly. It wasn’t flat or chiseled, but a healthy bit of roundness to it while having soft hair trail down to his groin. He looked breathtaking with his freckles from being out in the sun so much, as well as a few scars kissing over his belly and back. On warmer nights like that night, before fall was really taking hold, they’d both sit on the sofa with no shirt on while I was in short shorts and a tank top.

And Simon. That man was much larger than his clothes made him look. Covered in tattoos, not just his arms, he was nearly completely covered from his ankles to his neck His arms and legs were just as thick as John’s were, giving them equal power to pick me up to throw me on their shoulders. I always complained and swatted at them, but I actually didn’t mind. Not that I’d tell either of them that. While emotions were more readily displayed, I was not ready to actually work with my attraction to them. They were handsome Alphas and I was lucky they were just as sweet and caring, but I had never had a romantic partner, let alone kissed anyone.

Until I figured out how to actually go about flirting, I was not going to pursue anything else.

“Do lines like those really work?” I asked, staring at the TV with a frown as an actor gave an actress some cheesy pick up line that she giggled at.

“They might get a laugh at least,” Simon said. “But they don’t really work. I’m sure you’ve heard your fair share of bullshit lines growing up from the Alphas and Betas.”

“I guess,” I said, not really remembering any lines like in the TV show. Usually it had been along the lines of the kids making fun of me for being an Omega, but I would then beat the snot out of them. When I got older, the teasing turned sexual and there wasn’t much courting happening till after high school. Even then, most of the time the Alphas and Betas that tried would just come up to me to say they thought I would be a good Omega for their pack and that we should mate. There wasn’t a lot of romance like the TV shows.

“What’s the worst line you’d ever gotten when someone tried to court you?” Simon asked, turning from the TV to look at me. He shifted in his seat fully to face me, propping his face up on his fist with his elbow on the back of the couch.

“Uh. . . Probably the one I got from Matt Keller in my freshman year of college,” I said. “He basically just told me he wanted to see my stomach swell with his babies.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon groaned, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I broke his nose,” I said with a smirk.

“Good. He deserved worse, but at least you gave him a taste of it,” Simon said with a nod. “Was there any courting that you thought maybe someone could actually be a decent person?”

“Not really. It was a small town and I was the only Omega. Not a lot of people really cared how I felt or what I wanted, so I just ignored just about every person who tried to “court” me because it wasn’t really courting. It was just a proposition to be a mate or the Omega of a pack, which neither interested me and I made sure everyone knew it. Not that it stopped them from continually trying,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t get to go to house parties or prom or sleepovers because I wasn’t allowed to. Partially because my parents didn’t want me to come home knocked up and partially because none of the other parents wanted me around. I always caused trouble by getting in fights, even if it was to defend myself. They didn’t see it as being a proper Omega.”

“So, no magical kiss with a prom date under the stars while necking in the front seat of your El Camino?” Simon asked with a raised brow.

“That’s strangely specific, but no. I did not. I stayed at home and worked on school. It was all I had really and I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to take it away,” I said. “I wanted to work on my dad’s cattle ranch. I wanted to run it, so I didn’t really make time for finding actually good romance or friendships really. . . That’s kinda sad, isn’t it?”

“Naw,” Simon said with a chuckle. “Things have changed. Despite your experience in the small town sphere, Omegas have more freedom of open choices in the bigger cities around the world. You would be able to go to college without Matt Keller giving you that horrific pick up line. Which means, no awkward flirting and courting that is.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, setting the bowl of mostly corn kernels on the floor before moving to put a foot in his lap and letting him do the same with me. Well, my foot was in his lap, half his leg was in mine. The man was long. “No cheesy one-liners from you or John about how you can make my night wild?” I asked with a giggle as I began to rub his foot while he rubbed mine.

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen our wild nights,” Simon said with a smirk. “The most wild we get is changing our sleep spots.”

“Then am I really missing out on anything?” I asked. “I mean, we kinda skipped the whole courting process. Save for being bonded and legally married, there’s not a lot of reason to use those one liners.”

“Would you really want them anyways?” He asked.

“Not really,” I said after a moment of thought. “I’d rather have this honestly. It’s easier and feels like a more solid foundation than just courting a few weeks then bonding. At least this way, I actually get to know you and John and you get to know me. We’re not strangers just forced together because of our sex organs. . . Even if it did kind of start out that way.”

“Do you like what we have going on?” Simon asked, his fingers working my arch. “This whole situation of us together without the sex organs part?”

“I do. I mean, it helps that I don’t have heats, but I figured before this you and John. . . You know, ‘took care of each other’ for that stuff,” I said, looking down at Simon’s foot as my cheeks heated up a bit.

“Now what do you mean by that?” Simon asked, snickering as he tickled the sole of my foot a moment. I nearly kicked him in the face as I gasped and glared.

“Do NOT do that, Simon Riley,” I snapped, jerking my foot back hard. “You know I’m ticklish as hell on my feet! And you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to need you to explain this one to me,” Simon said, giving me a devilish smirk, letting me settle my leg before going back to rubbing my foot. For as serious as he could be sometimes, Simon was a bit of a teaser that would always get me when I wasn’t expecting it.

“You’re seriously making me do this?” I asked with a huff as he wiggled his foot in my hand. “Fine. I assumed before I moved in that you and John. . . Did stuff. . .”

“Like?” Simon asked, egging me on.

“Like sex, okay?” I grunted, rolling my eyes. “I figured you two had sex with each other before this.”

“Was that so hard?” He asked with a grin. “And yes, for the record we did. Still do when you’re busy with something and we’re alone.”

“What!?” I cried. “How!?”

“Well, when one Alpha and another Alpha love each other VERY much-”

“Oh shut up, I know how sex works,” I said, slapping his calf playfully. “I meant how are you having sex and I’m not noticing?”

“You are surprisingly good at focusing on chores and don’t seem to question us spending a lot of time in the barn with the horses,” Simon said with a chuckle.

I sat there in stunned silence as Simon grinned at me. It took a moment for me to soak in the realization of how dopey I felt that I had missed that giant indicator. It all added up and I was none the wiser till Simon had to spell it out for me.

“In case you’re wondering, we made sure that we could work around you till you were ready or if you’d ever be ready,” Simon said, his fingers digging into the ball of my foot to get my attention.

“Ready? For what?” I asked, suddenly finding myself lost and flustered.

“You really don’t know how to flirt or have a conversation about this stuff, do you?” He asked as I kept staring at him with a slight frown.

“About sex? Absolutely not, I was lucky I learned anything from sex ed in school. . . and that’s not what you’re talking about,” I said, groaning as Simon laughed at me finally catching up. “Look, I’m not on the up and up about sex and romance, give me a break.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be nice,” Simon said with a hum. “But as I was saying, we were working around you. We didn’t want to force anything or make you uncomfortable. That didn’t mean we were going to go celibate though.”

“Understandable, if not reminding me how oblivious I can be sometimes,” I said with a nod.

“No problem,” Simon said with a hum. “But now I’m curious, have you ever had sex or fooled around before?” He asked.

“Absolutely not,” I said with a snort. “I never understood the appeal of it the way it was shown to me. Rough and claiming, just doing it because of the excuse that it was a base instinct for everyone. I mean, I never wanted to be with someone like that. Someone that only wanted the knot and didn’t care about much else in sex. I’ve read more sex positive books about Omegas and figuring out what worked for them, but I just. . . I didn’t feel safe to experiment with anyone, let alone kiss anyone.”

“Well, if it helps, I know two Alphas who would happily volunteer to help you experiment,” Simon said, raising a brow and smirking. Oh no. Oh fuck no. That was a face of his that I could not look at without blushing because it was plain as day that he was getting ready to get cheeky with John or me.

“I’m sure you do,” I said, clearing my throat to look away towards the TV. My hands idly kept working his foot, but Simon’s hands were being evil. They slowly slid up my calf and began pulling me towards him. I was determined to ignore him though, sitting up straight and rigid as he managed to pull me halfway into his lap after pulling his own foot away. “Can I help you, sir? I’m trying to watch TV,” I said, as he settled me with my back to his chest, keeping my gaze forward and not on Simon.

“I just want to give my friend a hug,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to his bare chest. The skin to skin contact felt nice and before I realized it, I was turning my head to scent his chest as I purred. “Have you really never been kissed before?”

“I mean, by relatives,” I said.

“I meant romantically,” Simon sighed softly, looking down and nosing at my hair.

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at him. “Never been kissed. Most I’ve done is with you and John by sleeping in the same bed and holding hands.”

“Would you like to be kissed?” He asked. I had to think about that. It was everywhere on TV, in schools with young couples, people on dates, but I didn’t know if I wanted it.

“What’s it like? Romantically?” I asked, moving to sit in his lap side saddle so I could see him.

“It’s like you’re closer than a hug,” he said, his thumb stroking my arm as he took a moment to think of his words. “It feels nice. It’s as if you’re connecting to the person on a deeper level. It’s hard to describe really.”

“Closer than a hug, but not as close as sex,” I said, trying to help.

“Basically. It’s something you have to experience for yourself. I know that some of my favorite memories of me and John are us kissing. Just kissing. Nothing leading up to anything, just us curled up together like this and kissing. One time we were in line for a concert in the rain and we did our best to wait it out, but the bar closed it off because they were at capacity,” Simon said, looking at the TV as he remembered the details of that night. He had a smile on his face, a fondness of the story he was telling coming through. “We were mad because we had been in line for so long and were on a short leave between our military work, but after a minute it didn’t matter because the place was quickly shut down for being over crowded. Even if we had made it in, we would have still been kicked out.

So, we cut our losses and ran back to the truck. We were both soaking wet and it had to be nearly freezing. After we get into the truck and I turn it on, our heavy breathing fogs up the windows so we have to wait for the heat to kick in. John said something about it being a sign, but I just blew it off. He was more cautious back then. We were. . . Hell, I think we were 23 or so when this happened. I asked him what kind of sign it was. He said it was a sign that we were supposed to be together. Apparently concerts getting canceled and freezing rain meant long love signs,” Simon chuckled.

“We got the truck going, we defrosted, so we headed out. We were probably about 10 minutes from home when the truck slid into a ditch. I was going maybe 20 miles an hour, but the curve of the road had us sliding so slowly that we just sat there holding on as we came to a stop. John said it was another sign, I said he was being stupid, but as we were about to pull back out a lorry truck came sliding past us, barely missing the truck then kept going. John and I sat there for nearly half an hour till the rain had stopped and a salt truck drove by. I managed to get us back on the road and made it home safely.”

“Where’s the kiss?” I asked, frowning. I had been waiting for that part specifically. Was it a rain drenched kiss or maybe one by the fireplace where they laid together to warm up? I was invested and needed to know. “You were telling a story about you and John kissing.”

“Was I?” Simon asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re a horrible man,” I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. He laughed, shaking his head at me before continuing the story.

“We got home, walked inside, looked at each other for a moment before we held each other close. It was our first real date and our first real brush with death off the battlefield,” Simon said after a few beats of silence. I knew they were retired military, it wasn’t hard to figure that out after seeing dog tags and the gear they had with them. But I never asked about their time in the service or pushed about it. I thought that if they wanted to talk about it, they would. “We kissed each other when we laid in bed, holding on to one another like we might drift away. There had been kisses before, but that one. . . That was our first kiss as a couple. We were together for the first time officially and weren’t hiding it.”

“That’s really sweet,” I said, smiling at him. “It was a relief for you both, then. The kiss, that is. After everything, you could still kiss one another.”

“I guess you’re right,” Simon said, that fondness back in his face. “I kiss him good morning and goodnight every day, but those small moments are my favorite.”

“I want that,” I said, looking forward as I rested my head on his chest. “Small moments of connection with someone. I want that.”

“That’s something that John and I can offer you, if you want it from us,” Simon said, nuzzling the top of my head. “We want to give you that. We want to be that for you.”

It was another door to step through, a choice to make on where I wanted this relationship to go. I wanted it. I wanted them.

Looking up, I nosed at Simon’s cheek as I moved to straddle his lap. We went slow, his arms holding me as I shook a little. Scared and excited as we just shared the same space.

“I’ve gotcha, Sweetheart,” Simon said softly before he pressed his lips to mine.

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