Welcome to the place you were looking for, the ✨️ masterlist ✨️. I only write x Female!Reader unless specified otherwise. All of my work is 18+, smut or not, so MDNI. Please comment, reblog, but more importantly, let's enjoy fanfictions like the freaks and weirdos that we are. 💚
| Adrian Chase / Vigilante |
• The Adrian vortex ; Freshly graduated from med school and on the brink of a breakup with your current boyfriend, your best friend – Leota Adebayo – asks you to join her in Evergreen and become part of the 11th Street Kids. Afraid but thrilled at the idea of leaving your hometown behind, you never expected to get so attached so quickly to their quirky yet deadly masked vigilante.
• Body behave ; You live with a condition called vaginismus, which makes intimacy difficult and painful, pushing you away from relationships altogether. That is until you meet the cute busboy at Fennel Fields, Adrian. He shows you nothing but patience, understanding and the kind of love you didn’t realize you needed to let you guard down.
• I won't stop until that boy is mine ; You’ve just moved to Evergreen to continue your work as a vigilante in a new city, quickly settling into a new identity as a waitress at Fennel Fields. That’s where you meet Adrian; your nerdy but adorable coworker. Before you know it, you’re completely obsessed and suddenly he's the center of your world.
• He's a silver lining, climbing on my desire ; It’s that time of the month, the exact moment when you could probably punch a hole in the wall from how badly you want it. Luckily for you, your boyfriend is more than ready to…help you out.
• It'll will be love all through our bodies ; The 11th Street Kids all lived together in a shared loft above the Checkmate building. Adrian was living the dream; being so close to his best friends every day. But now, Leota, Emilia, Chris and John had a new mission: helping him find new hobbies outside of them. And what better way to keep him busy than signing him up on Tinder?
Word Count -> 14.4k (IDK WTH HAPPENED I WAS POSSESSED)
Fic Summary : You've been PR Manager at Bobby Spencer Racing for the past 4 years. The job had its fair share of ups and downs, and the latter was starting to become a reoccurring theme as of late
You're frazzled and on the brink of total burnout when a job offer from a rival racing team lands in your lap, leaving you with a desicion to make.
When Jake — the source of a lot of friction in your work life — finds out, he pulls out all the stops in an attempt to try and get you to stay, leading to a, pulse-racing confession.
Warnings: Minors Do Not Interact. Reader is in her 30's. Your girl did some research on Nascar, but not enough to be an expert, any mistakes or inaccuracies are my own. Reader fakes a minor illness in order to avoid going into work (We've all been there, don't lie). Toilet humour. Tense argument between Reader and Kevin (he does apologize, but I loathe Kevin James). Beth is your wing(wo)man. Confession of feelings. Small time jump for relationship development purposes. Mentions of reader wearing a skirt and heels. Oral sex (m). Praise. Semi-public vaginal sex. Y'all we get bent over the hood of his racecar, I had to do it. Reader is on *insert preferred form of birth control here, doesn't matter — consequences free creampies for all*. Jake may be dumb and reckless, but he takes care of his health and gets regular std tests because I said so. HEA! <3
Note: My readers are written with inclusivity and women of colour in mind, with minimal descriptors or indetifying features, along with actions and intent, everyone is welcome to read 💜
-> Do not be a fucknut! I do not give permission for my fics to be copied or fed into any AI software. <-
A/N: I have not and will not watch this show fully, I tried lmao if any ones characteristics are off then I apologize, all I know is Jake is a himbo and hopefully I've managed to characterize him (and the others) well.
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics.
If you read to the end, please leave a comment or reblog, I welcome feedback 💜
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Working PR for the Bobby Spencer Racing team meant 3 things.
You would almost certainly have to write out a 'heartfelt' apology for Kevin to claim as his own after he makes another post-race offensive blunder live on TV.
Jake would be a frequent problem when it came to his affinity for getting papped while in various compromising positions on a night out celebrating a win — never pictured with the same woman more than once.
That you were constantly questioning whether you were some kind of masochist considering reasons 1 and 2 were in almost-constant tandem.
An email with a lucrative job offer from Hendrick Motorsports has been sitting untouched and unreplied in your inbox for the last day and a half, and you know it's only a matter of time before they start impatiently calling instead to up the ante and push for an answer, sooner rather than later.
It hadn't been like you were trying to get poached by another team, or that you necessarily wanted to leave BSR — let alone to go join their rival team. However, that chronic case of indigestion has been threatening to turn into a stress-induced ulcer for months now, so you couldn't deny that you were at least weighing up your options.
4 long years with your current team wasn't exactly something you could just throw away either. Despite everything, it felt like you were part of a family, a horribly dysfunctional one, albeit.
The looming decision has been hanging over your head since the second you saw the name of the sender and the subject line yesterday around lunchtime.
Somehow you'd managed to get through the rest of the day at headquarters without anyone catching on that something was up with you, counting your blessings over that time you'd bullied Kevin into letting you use one of the defunct upper offices as your own; rundown and outdated since the 1980's, with its gaudy patterned carpet and peeling wallpaper, but it was yours nonetheless.
Today was a different story though. You'd hardly slept a wink overnight, just about drifting off when you'd find yourself yanked awake again by the feeling of impending doom.
Okay, maybe that was a little over dramatic, but when it's 3am and you're staring up at the ceiling, your brain can't seem to tell the difference between needing to engage your fight or flight response, or whether you're about to get up and take an anxious poop over the entire situation.
Either way, there had been no way you were going to be in any fit state to go into the office today, shooting Catherine a text that feigned a sudden bout of sickness, while offering to work from home instead; temporarily granting you solace and space to think, away from the hustle and bustle of the shop.
It had all been going so well.
You'd been able to answer emails (other than that one), chase up squirrelly sponsors, and attempt to put your degree to good use by creating a mock-up for content plans to send on to the teams social media manager before the weekend comes.
Between arduous phone calls, you'd catch yourself doodling on whatever scrap of paper was closest at the time — a habit you'd adopted from your mother while growing up — allowing your mind to wander of its own volition while listening to the demands of yet another disgruntled sponsor who's teetering on the edge of pulling the plug.
As soon as the time on your laptop read 6pm, you were done, mentally clocked-out hours ago anyway, but reveling in the finality of getting to close the lid and set it all aside for the rest of the night, with intentions to go to bed early so you could fall into a comatose state.
It could never just be that simple though, could it?
You'd begun to doze off on the couch, half-way through rewatching your favourite Parks and Rec episode when your buzzer being pressed over and over again jolts you awake.
"If it's those fucking kids from 3C again, I swear to god…" You grumble, tossing the throw off yourself as you get up from the couch and reluctantly head to your door, ready to hear the familiar voices of the triplets who haven't left you alone ever since they found out you worked for BSR, unironically dubbing themselves 'Jake Martin's biggest fans'. You slam your palm on the intercom button, prepared to shoo them off. "Listen, boys, like I told you before, I can't get you any signed merch, and for the last time, no I'm not going to pass on your mom's phone number to Jake!"
What's worse than the annoying pre-teen trio that would love nothing more than to have a philandering NASCAR driver for a step dad?
The man himself being at your door instead.
"Hold on, there really are hot milfs near me right now?! I knew all those computer viruses I got would pay off some day!"
"Jake? What the fuck are you doing here?" Truly, you didn't mean for your tone to come out as harsh as that, but you weren't thrilled about him being here either, truth be told. "Since when did you have my address?"
"Since about an hour ago when I text Beth asking for it?" Beth just made your hitlist, just below Kevin, but a notch above Jake. "Catherine said you were off with the squirts today, and my mom always tells me to chug some ginger ale when I've got the bubble guts before a big race, so I figured I'd swing by and drop some off to you!" Catherine also just made the list.
Your hand leaves the intercom button for a moment so you can utter a string of curses without it reaching Jake's ears.
Once collected enough, you finally reply to that confused little prompt of your name. "So everyone in the shop thinks I've been off shitting my brains out today? Fantastic." That job offer is looking more appealing by the second. "Listen, I appreciate the gesture, Jake, but I'm actually feeling a lot better now, and for the record, I said I was throwing up!"
"Tomato, potato." So confident, and yet so wrong. "It'll just take a sec, c'mon pleeeaase?"
If you don't let him in, you risk the terrible trio spotting him in the foyer, which will undoubtedly lead to Jake being your future neighbour, if those matchmaking kids have anything to do with it —and Jake is extremely weak-willed when it comes to milf's, apparently.
A stretched sigh leaves you as you press the access buzzer. "Fine, come on up."
Your apartment is on the 5th floor of your building and you're keeping a close eye on your watch from the moment you buzz him up, knowing that Jake can never resist a challenge, or the opportunity to prove that he's the definition of peak fitness, mostly to himself.
Sure enough, precisely 2 minutes and 11 seconds later, there's a set of rapid knocks on your door, along with the stifled wheezing cough of a man who'd just sprinted up several flights of stairs and is now desperately attempting to catch his breath before you even have a chance to open the door.
When you open it and find him hunched over with his palms braced on his knees, huffing and puffing, you can't help the way your lips curve with amusement.
"Those are some real steep stairs, huh?" You huff through your nose. "You know this building does have an elevator, right?"
Jake's head lifts, giving you that stupid pout he always does when he thinks you're being mean to him. "I know… that now!"
You roll your eyes, sighing as you step forward to swipe up the grocery bag at his feet. "Well, your good deed for the day is done, Jake. Thanks for the ginger ale, feel free to take the easy way back down."
Just as you're about to retreat back into the peacefully Jake-free zone of your apartment, he pipes up again. "Hold… on!" His hand wedges between the doorframe and the door, stopping you from shutting it on him.
The idiot just risked almost getting some broken fingers and ruining his entire career in one fell swoop, you figure the least you could do is hear him out, begrudgingly opening the door again to his red and sweaty self.
"Whaaaat now, Jake?" Your irritation and impatience flares, unable to hide it.
Ignoring your obvious annoyance, he chooses to push his luck further, sliding his hand up the doorframe while leaning into it, brandishing his signature lopsided flirty smirk that he thinks works on every woman.
"Aren't you gonna… invite me in?" The gall he has right now.
"No?" Short, sweet and utterly over whatever it is he's trying to initiate right now.
"But… I really need to pee… and there was a weird looking pigeon outside!" Jake whines,screwing his face up when he thinks about the unsettling avian.
"So? Maybe don't piss in front of the pigeon? Problem solved."
That should be the end of it, but if Jake Martin is anything, it's persistent. "I swear I'll just pee and go, I know you probably don't want to be away from the toilet for too long yourself anyway."
"I didn't have the squirts!" You protest, sighing wearily as you side-step to let him in. "Fine, but don't take too long, I was about to go to bed."
"Thank fuck! I downed a 32oz super-slushie on the way here!" He darts off down the hall as soon as you give him the green light, yanking open the first door he finds, looking to you for help when he discovers it's just the linen closet, squirming on the spot.
"Last door on the left, I would have told you if you'd asked in the first place!" You call out just in time to see a Jake-shaped blur rush off into the bathroom. "And put the toilet seat down when you're done!"
You're busying yourself with putting away the (unnecessary) ginger ale in the kitchen when you hear the loud and out of tune whistling floating down the hall from the bathroom. You can't even tell what song it is, knowing Jake it's probably some shit he made up in his head on the spot.
Before you know it, he's reappeared, wearing that dimple-popping grin of sheer relief that only an empty bladder can bring. Jake strolls back into the living area while you loiter in the archway to your kitchen, itching for him to just leave so you can sleep off the stress-headache that's starting to form.
"My mom buys the exact same brand of toilet paper as you, crazy world, right?" This fucking guy.
"Yep, so crazy." You couldn't sound any less interested if you tried.
Clearly it goes unnoticed, he's meandering through your space as if he didn't just promise that he'd leave right away after using the toilet.
"Surprised you even had any left, if I'm being honest, especially given the… delicate circumstances." He whispers the last part as if there's anyone around to hear anyway, grimacing.
An irritated groan slips from you before you can even stop it. "Jake, I'm really tired. Could you just…" You lift a weary hand in the direction of the front door, entirely too exhausted to keep up with Jake's incessant need to chit chat.
"Oh! Right, yeah!" Goofy smiling, he starts for the door, doing a double take when he wanders past the coffee table. "Eww, Hendrick?"
The doodles. Shiiiiit.
Your eyes almost bug out of your head when Jake picks up the scrap of paper you'd been mindlessly drawing on earlier, which had apparently turned into you mocking up a new design for their social media logo.
You see Jake's lips twist and curl as he tries to scrape together enough braincells to work out why you'd be sketching something for a rival team. It's okay, you're trained to think fast and come up with excuses!
"That, uh… I was bored and snooping their insta and I thought, 'wow that's dull as fuck, I can do better than that!'." Okay, maybe not your finest work, grasping at 'graphic design is my passion' as a reason for why you'd have a Hendrick logo anywhere near you probably wouldn't fly with the average person.
Luckily for you, Jake is not the average person.
"This is miles better than anything they could come up with." He snorts, seemingly satisfied with your shoddy cover story, abandoning the drawing to the coffee table once more. "Maybe pitch that to Catherine instead? Just with the Bobby Spencer name on it, duh."
You exhale a long and silent sigh of relief as you watch him move for the door again, making a mental note to yourself to pay attention to what you're plotting when ever you're on a dull phonecall, because God forbid you did something like that again in the office and someone else saw it. You wouldn't be so lucky the next time, that's for sure.
"I'll be sure to do that. Thanks for coming by to drop off the gingerale, Jake, appreciate it."
Just as he's pulling open the door, about to get out of your hair, Jake glances over his shoulder at you where you stand, that goofy edge softened, green eyes lingering on you. "You're back in tomorrow right? Kinda sucked not seeing you around the shop today."
That's not him flirting. For once he's being sincere. It's disarming, enough to fade away the annoyance on your expression.
"Yes, Jake. I'll be back in tomorrow." You reassure gently, bringing the smile back onto his face.
"Good, who else is going to tell Kevin to pull up his pants when his ass crack is out?"
You make a face, chuckling lightly. "Alright, please don't talk about such things before I go to bed, I'll have nightmares!"
Jake beams, lips stretching into that stupidly charming grin, the one that has made a lot of post-race interviewers — men and women alike — trip over their words in front of him.
"My bad! Though it is seared into my brain." He shudders, throwing you a wave over his shoulder. "See you later alligator!" And then he's gone,. The door gingerly clicks shut behind him, probably about to run into his self-confessed fan club on the way out of the complex.
══════════════════
Hendrick were persistent, it was barely 8am and you'd already had yet another email an even bigger salary offer attached. You hadn't even had time to finish off your triple shot espresso before you're already reaching your days quota of feeling harried, all before you've even clocked in.
You should have known it was going to be a shitstorm of a day, based on that alone, along with the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that today was not it.
Your anxieties are seemingly confirmed the moment you step into the shop, when all conversation between the mechanics and the ambling staff members seems to cease all at once.
All eyes landing squarely on you.
Did you spill your coffee on your blouse? Something gross on your face?
Both questions are swiftly answered when you check your appearance in the reflection in a shiny hubcap, casting a look of perplexed unease towards a tittering Chuck.
"I'd hustle up to your office while you still can, Kevin's on a warpatb after hearing the news this morning!" Chuck says, ushering his teams attention back to the car they're working on.
Before you can even question what he's talking about, Kevin's obnoxiously booming voice fills the otherwise silent workspace, briskly walking towards you. Hackles already up and clearly looking for a fight.
"When were you going to tell us?" He asks bluntly without added context, hands planted on his hips.
You're still none-the-wiser, wondering if maybe he'd found out it was you that side-swiped his car in the parking lot last week.
"Tell you what?" The confusion in your voice is real, not that it matters to Kevin when he's got a bee in his bonnet.
"Don't play dumb with me, missy! Hendrick?"
You want the ground to swallow you up there and then. Any attention that had been successfully drawn away by Chuck before has now returned back to you, spanners twisting, pretending not to be eavesdropping.
Thoughts race through your mind, wondering how the fuck anyone found out about it. Maybe Jake had put two and two together and finally achieved a thought?
All you can do is placate, go into damage control mode, do what you do best.
"Kev, look. It's not what you think it is, okay? They approached me, and I haven't even—"
"Oh please!" He huffs, throwing his hands in the air. "You're taking a job with our competitors! You expect me to believe a word out of your mouth? How do we know you haven't just been spying for them this entire time?" The accusation flies from his lips, eyes absurdly narrowed in suspicious slits as if you're a government mole and this is the Pentagon.
"You're being ridiculous, would you just listen to me? They emailed me a few days back with an offer and I haven't replied yet!" You snap in exasperation.
Usually you have a lot more patience for Kevin's bullshit, but it's quite literally hanging on by a thread these days, and the man never knows when to quit.
A stubby finger waves in your face, purposefully riling you up. "Aha! Yet! So you're thinking about it!"
You were hoping to handle this in a civilized manner, but there's only so far you can be pushed before you have to bite back.
"God you love the sound of your own fucking voice don't you?" You swat his hand away, standing a little taller, staring him down with a harsh sneer. "They're trying to poach me and you're acting like I'm the problem here? After everything I've done for this team? After all the times I've bailed you out after you've made yourself look like an idiot on live TV? Oh okay, sure, I'm the asshole for even considering taking a better offer where I wouldn't ever have to deal with your crap again."
No one's even trying to act like they're not listening now, eyes darting back and forth between you and the crew chief like they're locked in to watching a hurried match of ping pong.
"See that's your problem right there! You think you're better than everyone. Acting all high and mighty, walking around like you've got a stick up your ass."
"What? Because I want to work somewhere that actually wants to pay me well, gives me an office where I can plug in my laptop without sparks flying out of the socket? God forbid I don't want to die of a stress-induced stroke at my desk because of something you or Jake did." You counter, scoffing derisively. You're so over it now.
The roll of his eyes pretty much sets everything in stone for you, you're taking that job, and you're going to slash one of his tyre's on your last day, maybe all of them, as a little treat.
"Don't you think you're overreacting a little here? It's literally your job to deal with our hiccups!"
"Hiccups?" Your blood is boiling, you've been here for 4 years, allegedly 'part of a family', but all Kevin seems to see you as is a glorified maid, cleaning up after their messes. "A hiccup would be an issue once in a blue moon, Kevin. Not what I'm dealing with! Whether it's Jake with his third girl of the week or whether it's you being caught with your microphone still on, talking shit about the other teams! Who jokes about pissing in their gas tanks without checking the damn mic?!"
There's a momentary lapse in Kevin's judgement when he smirks about the mid-race banter he'd had. It quickly disappears when you groan loudly out of sheer unbridled frustration.
"Let me guess, time of the month?" He just had to keep going to try and get the last word in, didn't he?
"Excuse me?!" You're on the cusp of just walking out altogether. At least then you wouldn't have to be around this oaf or have to deal with everyone tiptoeing around you for the rest of the day after this.
Kevin's about to dig himself a bigger hole that you'd happily bury him in, but before he can open his big mouth and take the opportunity to do that, the door to the shop swings open behind you and Jake strolls in, bag slung over his shoulder. Apparently none the wiser to the air of obvious tension.
"Guys, awesome news!" Jake doesn't bother with conversation openers or traditional greetings, usually opting to dive right in with whatever thought is plaguing his mind at that very second. He pushes his sunglasses up to rest atop his head as he makes a beeline straight towards you and Kevin. "I stopped to get gas on the way here and this guy sold me this lucky stick for like, $20! Isn't that cool?" He boasts, retrieving it from his pocket and proudly holding up the twig that was very obviously pulled off some random bush moments before Jake got scammed into buying it.
In unison, you and Kevin turn your heads towards Jake, both of you seemingly sharing the same thought, if the matching mix of aggravation and utter perplexity on your faces is anything to go by.
"Did you know?" Kevin asks bluntly.
"Know what? That it was a lucky stick? Not until the dude told me it was blessed by Dolly Parton herself. Then I knew for sure!" Jake beams.
Kevin snatches the stick from his hand, snapping it between two fingers, making Jake whine in protest. "No, idiot! Did you know that we have a traitor on the team? She's going to Hendrick!" He gestures in your direction.
"I never said I was taking the job!" You argue, head whipping in Kevin's direction once more, so fast than you don't see the way Jake's face falls completely, crushed.
"Wait, what? No, hold on. You can't go? I— we need you here!" You do catch the stutter in Jake's voice that time though, and when you divert your gaze back to him, you see him swallow the lump forming in his throat, unwilling to look away from you.
It clearly wasn't Jake that sold you up the river, he didn't have a clue last night.
"Hey!" Catherine's commanding tone cuts through the room like a knife, and suddenly everyone who'd stopped working in the garage, knows how to use a wrench again. "Whats with all the raised voices out here? I was just on the phone to a sponsor and all I could hear the entire time was yelling?"
"Catherine, I'm so sorry. Can we—" You start, hoping to clear the air.
Kevin doesn't give you the chance, butting in. "This one has had a Job offer from Hendrick."
"Oh my god! Could you just for a minute let someone else get a word in edgewise?" You snap.
"I'm not the one who—" Thankfully, Kevin is cut off himself this time when Catherine marches over, slapping a hand over his mouth.
"Since you were the voice I heard the most, you'll be coming in to my office for a chat first." She tells Kevin pointedly before looking at you with a light sigh. "Go get some air, we'll talk about this in a while." There's an inflection to her words that convey understanding, she herself has only been in charge of her father's team for a short time, but Catherine knows what it's like to have to deal with being on the end of one of Kevin's rants.
You watch her whisper scold Kevin as she corrals him towards her office, blinds closing for privacy mere moments after the door slams shut behind them.
"You're really leaving?" A quiet voice beside you gently startles you out of your own racing thoughts, turning to meet Jake's unwavering gaze.
"No… maybe? I-I haven't exactly decided yet. That's why I was off work yesterday, I wasn't sick. I just needed space to think." You exhale deeply, shoulders slumping.
There's a stretching moment of silence between you where neither utters a single word, engulfed in the weight of conflicting emotions; both for two very different reasons.
Jake chews the inside of his cheek, and then without another word he's gone, disappearing off towards the locker room. Moments later you finally unglue yourself from the spot, taking Catherine's advice to go get some air and clear your head, though now your mind is fixed on two things.
The job offer for one, and the longing look in Jake's eye that you thought you saw last night, but you definitely know you saw today.
══════════════════
Catherine's been chewing Kevin out for no less than 10 minutes before Jake takes it upon himself to barge right into her office, much to her dismay.
"No, it's okay! Don't knock, just come right on in!"
Jake ignores the blatant sarcasm, pulling up a chair beside Kevin in front of her desk. "You said you had an open door policy, so…"
"That's not what that means." She grits out, impatiently tapping her pen on the lacquered wood between them.
"Yeah Jake, can't you see we're in the middle of something here?" Kevin counters insincerely, mouthing the words 'save me' when Catherine looks away for a brief moment.
Catherine heaves a sigh, leaning back in the high-backed chair. "Jake whatever it is, it'll have to wait, and if it's about trying to convince me to let you do that naked calender shoot again, like I told you the last time, that email you got was not from the real Ansel Adams. He wasn't that kind of photographer, and he died 40 years ago!" She lists off on her fingers, exasperated over the idea of having to talk Jake out of sending 'test photos' to an obvious scam artist. Again.
"Noooo it's not about that this time!" He waves her off dismissively, leaning forward to rest his elbows on either knee, foot tapping against the carpet pensively. "It's about this whole Hendrick thing. We can't really just let her go, right?"
Green eyes flit between his CEO and his crew chief, silently begging one of them to agree with him.
Kevin speaks up first, still vexxed. "Why not? If she wants to go, just let her go! Obviously she's got a bug up her butt about working here and she was complaining about both of us before you got here! If she wants to be like that, then I don't want her here anyway."
"Kevin." Catherine warns sharply.
"What? Shes obviously not a team player, and Hendrick wouldn't have sent over a job offer if they didn't smell blood in the water in the first place."
Witbout missing a beat, Jake chimes in, brows furrowed. "Or they saw how amazing she is at her job? How can you of all people say she's not a team player? Saved our asses more times than I can count, she stays late on race weekends and she's always the first to jump in and offer to lend a hand when shit goes south!" His impassioned counter-arguement leaves Kevin speechless, probably for the first time today.
"Jake's right." Catherine murmurs, deep in thought. "We can't lose her, especially not to Hendrick. That being said, if she wants to go, then we're going to have to make some changes around here and give her a good enough reason to stay, and a sincere apology." That last part is directed at Kevin specifically, but even Catherine knows she's been letting things slide too much, and considering you'd worked for BSR when her father is as in charge, she can only imagine the things you've seen and done to keep the teams reputation afloat.
Jake shifts in his seat, sitting a little taller, more optimistic than he was minutes prior to coming in here.
Kevin on the other hand is hesitant to admit he's wrong, stubbornly wanting to dig his heels in and double down on just letting you walk away if you don't want to be a part of the team anymore, though deep down he knows everything would fall apart without you, and that everyone around here would be sad to see you go — him included.
"Apology, yeah okay." The older man mutters, scratching at a oil stain on his jeans. The cogs turning in his head, already thinking of ways he can take the first step to make it up to you.
"Actually, I had a couple of ideas." Jake pitches to Catherine. "I just need you to hear me out."
══════════════════
You've been outside for a while now. You'd even broken out your 'open only incase of emergency' pack of cigarettes that live at the bottom go your bag, pensively puffing on one as a way to cope with the stress surrounding your impending decision.
You pace shallowly on the shaded sidewalk, wondering if everyone would hate you for putting yourself first for once. Kevin has made his stance clear on it, Jake seemed more downtrodden than angry.
All you know for sure is that you're going to wring the neck of the person who leaked this, no doubt it had to be someone at Hendrick, looking to make waves.
"Uh-oh." You turn to the sound of Beth's voice, a sympathetic smile tugs at her lips as she wanders over to you. "Stress smoking? IThe last time I saw you do that was when Jake had to take a DNA test."
Beth — for all her quirks — has been your closest ally the entire time you've been with BSR, a real friend and confidant. You feel guilty for not mentioning Hendrick to her, but the day you got that email it was like you were on auto-pilot, still, you know she's the only one who's not going to judge you for it.
A gentle chuckle leaves you as you stub the cigarette out on the wall behind you, tossing the butt into the trashcan next to her. "Desperate times call for desperate measures." You pause, glancing over at her. "I guess you heard about Hendrick, huh?"
"I think the entire western hemisphere heard about it with the way Kevin was going on." She sighs, leaning against the cool brick beside you. "Do you know what you're gonna do?"
A simple question shouldn't have you wracking your brain so much, and yet it does.
"Honestly? No. I feel like I'm going to have regrets either way I go."
She hears the self-doubt creeping into your voice, the uncertainty written all over your face, and despite telling herself she wouldn't meddle this time, Beth can see you need a little push.
"First of all, you know whatever you chose to do, I will be in your corner the whole way." Her hand comes up to cover your own, lending a reassuring touch to go with the information she's about to divulge. "So, you know how Bobby always used to tell me off for hanging around outside his office?"
"You mean how you're nosey as hell and need to be in everyone's business?" You counter, huffing out a laugh through your nose.
Beth rolls her eyes lightheartedly. "You say nosey, I say inquisitive! Anyway, listen to this. While Catherine was busy reaming Kev out, Jake stormed into her office."
"What? Why?"
"What do you mean 'What? Why?'." She mimics. "Mostly because he has a big fat crush on you, but also because he talked up a deal to get you to stay, I didn't hear everything, but I did hear the words 'raise' and 'assistant'. You didn't hear that from me though."
You're caught in a loop of relentless chatter in your head, trying to absorb all the information that's just been thrown at you in the last 10 seconds. With no clue where to unpack it all first.
"You're saying Jake went to fight for my corner and ask Catherine to make me an offer?"
Beth nods, a knowing sparkle in her eyes. "The boy is like a love-sick puppy when it comes to you, I don't even want to imagine the moping he'd do around here if you actually left. If it's half as bad as he was yesterday when you weren't here,I think I'll just go ahead and quit too."
"Oh come on, he's not 'lovesick', Jake would flirt with a mop if you threw a dress on it. He's probably just feeling bad because he knows he's contributed to a lot of my problems here."
"Are you kidding me? All he did yesterday was wander around the shop asking if anyone had heard from you and if you were okay. I've never seen him look at anyone else the way he looks at you. Don't get me wrong, he's a dog, but like a dumb Golden Retriever or a Labrador." Her lips twitch into a small smirk.
Despite the warm and fuzzy feeling creeping over you, you're hesitant to let yourself believe that, and you hate that a small part of you wants it to be true. Jake's a sweet guy, but he's also had more 'girlfriends' than you can count.
It's only natural to be wary.
══════════════════
Catherine came and found you after she was done with the men. You hadn't allowed yourself to look for Jake in the shop when she lead you to her office, you weren't sure if you were ready to admit that Beth was right, or what that meant.
It felt like you were in that meeting with her for hours, back and forthing about how you felt in position to BSR. Catherine let you rant if you needed it, she let you get it all out, never butting in, never invalidating how you felt, simply being there as a listening ear and an attentive boss.
Her apologies were sincere and heartfelt, she knows her father could have been a better boss, the senior had wanted to be everyone's friend, but he'd neglected to correct behaviours when it called for it. Catherine made it clear that wasn't how she wanted to run things now, and admittedly since she took over, it was like new life had been breathed into the team.
If this Hendrick offer had come while Bobby was still running the show, you're not sure you'd be so twisted up over making a decision.
Beth's snooping had proven one thing right though, Catherine had proposed a new deal in order to swing favour towards getting you to stay.
You could hire your own fully PR trained assistant to half the workload so you could delegate tasks and relieve yourself of the mounting pressure on your plate, she'd let you sit in on the hiring process and have full say. Along with that, effective immediately and should you chose to remain with BSR, she pitched an ample bump in your salary; which was surprising considering Bobby had always said they didn't have the funds to allocate for that.
It left you reeling and floored. You knew that this was coming from Catherine herself, and you were grateful for that, but also, knowing that Jake had been the one to approach all this? You told yourself he must have only done it because he felt guilty for the way he's acted over the years, or that he's just done it because he wants to get in your pants, but Catherine didn't mention him once the entire time.
A man like Jake Martin doesn't do something like that without boasting credit for it, usually.
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Catherine, the saint that she is, allowed you to take the rest of the day off paid after that talk, giving you the breathing space you really needed to think it all over.
You didn't even need until closing to make up your mind. You drafted an email to Hendrick to turn down their offer at 5.40pm, and by 5.50pm, you were already on a call with Catherine, graciously accepting her proposal.
That night, you slept better than you had in months. You'd realised just how bogged down you'd been, running on fumes and getting by on telling yourself that finding a grey hair every other day was your new normal. Within minutes of your head hitting the pillow you were spark out, and for the first time in a long time, the churning anxiety in your gut wasn't preventing you from getting a good rest.
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When you returned to work the next morning, it felt as if you had a new purpose and outlook; a noticeable spring in your step and a genuine smile on your face when you walked into the shop,one time for once too.
It's oddly quiet on the main floor, not a soul around. Where you should be hearing the humdrum day to day noise of twisting wrenches and whirring drills, there's nothing, which for a Thursday morning is concerning considering practice begins tomorrow.
It's only when you reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your office space that you hear any sign of life. The unmistakable guffaw belonging to Kevin, Chucks voice sounding unusually echoey and the rambling chit chat from several other members of the pit crew.
As you creep up the stairs the scent of fresh paint hits you first, mingling with freshly brewed coffee.
You stop in the doorway to your office, eyes going wide at the scene in front of you. Chuck and a few of his guys are on one side of the room, scraping off the wallpaper that has been there longer than you've been on this earth. On the other, Kevin works in tandem with his half of the team, rolling a fresh lick of paint over the walls that have already been stripped.
No one notices you for a long moment, not until you take a step into the room, catching your heel on the crinkling bottom edge of the plastic cover that had been draped over your desk to protect your things.
Kevin glances over his shoulder, beard and face speckled with flecks of paint. "We were wondering when you'd show up! Might be a little while yet until we're done up here though, still got to get all these walls done before Chuck's brother-in-law comes in later to replace those sockets."
No explanation for this sudden HGTV-like renovation going on, or why Kevin of all people seems to be the one heading it.
"What's all this about?" An airy and awe-filled laugh slips from you, looking between Kevin and Chuck for answers.
"Well, I'm up here because everytime I step into this office, I feel like I'm gonna have a aneurysm looking at this shit." Chuck calls out, busy scratching away at a particularly stubborn patch on the wall. "Kev's up here because he's a jackass."
"Thanks, Chuck." Kevin monotones, setting down his roller.
"You're welcome!"
There's a distinct lack of anger today in Kevin's gait compared to yesterday, and a clear amount of guilt emanating from him as he meets you where you stand, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.
"I owe you an apology... or a hundred."
For a moment you're caught off guard, you've never known Kevin to suck up his pride and apologize for anything, but you will bask in the glory of it.
And you're most certainly not going to let him off that easily.
"Really? For what?" You reply, tone thick with mock innocence, biting back that hint of a smirk that threatens to break out.
He sighs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling tiles as if he'll find the will to live there. "For everything I said yesterday, that you had a stick up your ass, that you were high and mighty, throwing insults at you." His eyes drop to meet your own, nothing but sincerity in his gaze. "Your job is hard enough as it is without having to deal with my bullshit, and you do do a great job of that."
The tension between you seems to settle in an instant, giving way to what can hopefully be a clean slate if Kevin really means what he's saying.
"And?" You prompt, visibly amused now.
"And…" Kevin huffs. "And for the way I reacted to finding out about the whole Hendrick thing. That wasn't right, and I'm sorry. They would have been lucky to have you on their team. You've been an asset here, and I guess I was scared that someone else saw what we've been taking for granted. And again, I'm sorry for everything you've had to put up with on my account. I promise I'll be on my best behaviour from now on. " He pauses momentarily before adding with a sly grin. "Only when the mics are on, mind you. All bets are off otherwise!"
It's like Christmas came early hearing him give a genuine, remorseful apology. You're almost convinced he's been replaced by a shape-shifter with the fully-developed emotionally stable frontal lobe that Kevin had been lacking.
"I guess that's a start. Don't mistake me accepting your apology for being a doormat though, Gibson. I won't hesitate to shove my foot up your ass if I need to." It's a friendly warning, no bite to your words, but the promise of violence if he steps out of line again is very real.
"Yes ma'am, I hear you loud and clear." Kevin mock salutes. "And before you ask, yes we're pulling up the carpet too, it's laminate underneath so you can just go out and buy a bunch of rugs or—"
Rapid, thundering footsteps interrupt him, taking the stairs up two at a time in the excitable way that can only belong to one person.
"Yo, yo, yo! Jake in the house!" He's painfully white. "Hey! You guys started without me?" Jake Gripes, hands on hips in the doorway, backwards cap on, shirtless beneath those denim overalls he insists on wearing around the shop often.
You sneak a glimpse at his biceps, allowing yourself that moment to look before moving to your desk, busying yourself with grabbing some supplies to take down to Beth's office so you can work there for the rest of the day. It was only a look, a peek. Hard to miss when the gun show is openly on display anyway — at least, that's what you tell yourself.
"We told you 7am sharp, and you're over an hour late?" Kevin grumbles, downing the remaining contents of his coffee mug sitting nearby.
"I always get 7 and 8 mixed up! Easily done, right?" Only if your name is Jake Martin. "Anyway, I had to stop at the gas station again on way here again to replace the lucky stick you broke yesterday and look!" The pink tip of his tongue peaks out from between his lips as Jake rifles around in his pocket before presenting a smooth stone in the palm of his hand. "The guy threw in this enchanted rock and because he said I'm a loyal customer, he gave me a discount."
Kevin sputters on his mouthful, choking out a laugh on the spot.
"That's nice, Jake. How much does a pretty pebble like that set you back these days anyway?" Chuck instigates, pausing what he's doing to soak in every second.
Jake turns over the rock in his hand, admiring it. "Well the dude said something like this usually goes for like $50, but he cut me a deal and called it an even $48"
The entire room erupts into laughter around Jake, who's still proudly holding his newest acquisition, total confusion marring his features.
"What's so funny?"
Kevin pats him on the shoulder, wiping away a tear with his free hand. "You, my friend, are dumber than a bag of rocks, and you can't put a price on that."
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You find yourself quietly chuckling for the rest of the day after that, bringing Beth in on the joke when she eyes you from her side of the desk, the two of you falling into fits of uncontrolled laughter the second she hears what happened.
You do feel bad laughing at Jake's expense sometimes, but he's a big boy and he's made it far enough in life that he can be the butt of the joke; not that he notices half the time anyway.
There is one habit you're going to have to work hard to break with this new start though, and that's staying longer after hours. Today was a good day, but you still found yourself waving off Beth's concerns over you wanting to stay on past clock out to catch up on emails ahead of the race weekend.
This time it didn't feel like it was out of obligation or under duress.
Daylight is fading by the time you take out your earbuds and shutdown your laptop for the day, streaks of pinky-orange sky visible through the gaps in the blinds. A beautiful, warm summer night waiting for you outside.
With everything switched off in Beth's office, you step out into the shop, locking her door behind you.
You make it all of 5 steps towards the exit before you're startled by Jake bounding down the stairs, almost colliding with you at the bottom, managing to step back just in time to save yourself.
"Jake! Jesus Christ, you scared me."
"Fuck, I'm so sorry! I heard a door close down here and I thought someone was breaking in, I was about ready to put my karate moves to good use." Has his smile always been that attractive? No, you need to go home and sleep, that's all.
"You know karate?" You ask with a healthy dose of skepticism.
Jake shrugs nonchalantly, biceps bulging when he crosses his arms. Those overalls also appear to be working overtime if the paint smears are anything to go by.
"I took a class once… when I was 12. It's like riding a bike though!"
"Well good thing I'm not an intruder right? I would have been in a for a world of trouble."
The sarcasm goes right over his head and straight to his ego when his smile stretches into a massive, prideful grin.
"What are you still doing here anyway? It's getting late, do you need a ride home?" The sweet concern he holds for you ties your stomach in a knot, and you're suddenly hyper aware that you're alone here with him.
You find any reason you can to shuffle back a step from him, the intimate proximity becoming somewhat overwhelming when it's never felt like that before.
The stretch of your limbs coupled with a fake groan is enough of a cover, though you could have sworn his eyes drifted over your body for a moment there.
"I'm fine, Jake. Just had some work to catch up on, and as much as I appreciate the offer, I'm fine to drive myself home." You smile, shallowly shaking your head. "Though I could ask you the same question, usually you're out of here before anyone else."
"Yeah well, I was busy finishing up in your office." His grin turns coy, his words laced with a secretive edge that makes your eyes narrow suspiciously.
"Busy with what? I thought you guys were done painting up there and stuff hours ago?"
As you try to peer up the stairs, Jake steps in the way, blocking your field of view. "We did, there was just other things that needed taking care of, finishing touches."
Jake holds your scrutinizing gaze, not willing to budge an inch on letting you see what he's been doing up there all evening. Tomorrow you'll come in to find your newly decorated office decked out with furnishings in your favourite colour and photos lining the walls that portray your time with BSR.
Jake was thankful that Beth had talked you into going for an extended lunch hour, which gave him enough time to go pick up everything he needed to make today happen, all paid for out of Jake's pocket in the hopes that he'll get to see that smile that he craves so much.
You reluctantly back down when you realize he's not going to budge.
"Have I ever told you that you're a pain in my ass?"
He doesn't miss the teasing lilt this time around, rewarding you with a breathy laugh that makes your knees go weak.
"At least once a week. Oh and hey, since I didn't have a chance to say it earlier, I'm really glad you decided to stay. I mean it, it would have sucked not having you around, even if I do understand why you wanted to go."
The skill he has for going from a charming bastard to being able to soften you around the edges in mere seconds, is irritating. All you can do is hope he doesn't catch it in your body language or the way you look at him; eerily similar to the way he's looking back at you right now.
Just keep your shields up, you didn't let Kevin off lightly, and Jake has given you just as much grief in terms of burdening your workload over the years.
"No, I know, this place would have been in ruins without me holding it all together." You're only half joking, sometimes you do wonder.
Jake groans, nodding firmly in agreement. "That's pretty much what I said when—" He abruptly trails off, and from your own deductions, you can gather he was about to blab about what he did for you. Somehow managing to keep it all in, that night, at least. "Anyway, I need to say sorry, for everything honestly. I know you must think I'm pretty stupid and reckless for how I act sometimes, and I get that, I'm impulsive and I don't always think things through. That shouldn't have been on you to work on making me look good."
You can infer what he means without probing. The women, the partying; all in the public eye where gossip spreads like wildfire through social media these days after one ill-timed photo.
If you were being brutally honest with yourself, there have been times where you questioned whether Jake was really having any fun, it didn't really look like it, not in the pictures you've had to clear up rumours on the tail end of.
It's been more noticeable in the last year or so when you've studied the photos where he's had a blank and glazed over stare while looking right into the camera pointing at him, as if he doesn't even acknowledge the beautiful woman hanging off his arm.
Gone are the days where you'd be chasing reporters out of your inbox looking for a comment on a risqué shot of Jake with his tongue in someone's mouth on a night out or his hand up a skirt. Everything he's done recently has been relatively tame, all things considered. It almost seems like he's going through the motions, more than anything.
"You're young and you're a NASCAR driver. I think it's only natural that you'd go off the rails sometimes, and that's not me giving you a free pass, by the way. I'm just saying. You're human, you fuck up, you recognize that. Now put the work into making that apology stick. You're already half way there."
"You're too good to me. To us." The quiet sincerity in his tone makes your chest ache, and you wish he'd pry his eyes away from your face for a second. "I, uh… I appreciate you, you know? And I swear, I'm done with all that shit. You won't have to worry about covering for me like that again."
He sounds so sure, so certain.
You on the other hand, are not.
"Okay, sure. Let's maybe get this race weekend out of the way before you start making any kind of sweeping declaration."
Jake's brows knit together, sighing. "I mean it, I don't want to be that guy anymore, and I've known that for a while now."
The finality to his words leaves no room for doubt, but you're going to try anyway with one last burning question.
"Why?"
You know already. Of course you do.
You see it in the way he's looking at you right now, like you hung the moon. You see it in the way his shoulders are set and tense as if he's holding himself back from just grabbing you. You see it in the way he let's his eyes drop to your lips, and the way his throat bobs when he stares a second too long.
All you need is for Jake to say it out loud.
The usually confident and cocky ladies-man that you know well, now can't seem to begin to form words. Jake's face flushes a deep shade of red as he opens and closes his mouth, nothing but sputtered little sounds coming out.
Your pulse rapidly spikes when he moves closer. Only an inch or so, but it's enough, and this time you don't want to give yourself breathing room, staying rooted to the spot.
"I… I met someone." He pauses to suck in a breath, you've never seen him this nervous, not even before a big race. "And I don't know when or how, but somewhere down the line I realised that every time she was around, I'd be smiling so much my cheeks would hurt at the end of the day. I just… I realised I'd been missing something, and I'm done trying to ignore that."
It's weird to see him like this, all stuttery and simpering, but you'd be lying to yourself I'd you said it didn't feel good knowing that you were the one that could drive him to this.
It emboldens you in a way. You step into Jake's personal space, revelling in the way he clumsily backs into the bannister, huffing out a shy laugh when he catches himself on it.
"You have a girlfriend we don't know about?" You're purposefully pushing the envelope, wanting to see just how Jake Martin crumbles under pressure.
"No!" He answers quickly, hastily shaking his head. When Jake sees the subtle upturn at the corner of your mouth, he groans. "Oh okay, so you know I'm talking about you and you're just trying to torture me?"
"You caught on quicker than I thought you would." The taunting quip comes with a shameless smirk, drawing him in with an inviting gaze that masks your own trepidation.
You see some of that confidence return in him in the form of a lopsided grin. "Alright, I get it. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed. I know I'm pretty dumb at the best of times."
"That's accurate, pretty, but dumb."
"All I heard was you think I'm pretty."
"Oh, I do. That doesn't negate the dumb part though."
There it is, the sweet melodic laughter that Jake longs to hear all the time. The sound that makes it hard for him to breathe or think straight.
His hand trembles just the slightest when he lifts it to your face, hesitating to let himself give in. Mossy green eyes flit between your own, silently questioning whether or not this is what you actually want and need from him.
Only you could make Jake feel so uncertain of himself.
"If any of this is too much…" He murmurs, letting his fingers graze your soft jawline. "Then just tell me. I really don't want to fuck this up."
You bring a hand up to wrap around his wrist, fingers gently locking around him, feeling the pounding pulse beneath your touch. You lean into his palm as you guide it closer, leaving no ambiguity on your end. His touch is careful, warm, savouring. A thumb rough with dried on paint stroking over the apple of your cheek.
"Then I'm going to need you to show me just how serious you are about all these claims I'm hearing." The prompting words hadn't meant to come out so honeyed, but they did, and you can't take them back now. Not that you'd want to.
The lilt in your words makes his dick twitch beneath his overalls, but as much as he'd love to just lunge at you and kiss you stupid there and then, Jake has a point to prove — to you and to himself.
He draws your face towards his own, slow and purposeful, letting his other hand wander to your hip, fingers splayed out over the curve.
Jake watches your eyes close in anticipation of what's to come, but he doesn't move, not when he's preoccupied with drinking you in. He soaks in every inch of you, every wrinkle, every imperfection. He smiles when you get that impatient crinkle between your brows, knowing that he's about to kiss it away.
For Jake, the night before practice usually consists of toiling away the hours in the gym or at home, mindlessly gaming. Anything to take his mind off the nerves playing havoc with his thoughts. Right now though, the only thing making him nervous is you. You've single-handedly stripped away the facade and turned him into the kind of guy who fumbles a first kiss.
It's shameful, he's oveethinking. His lips are pressed too lightly against your own. When you tilt left, he also tilts left and bumps into the corner of your mouth instead. At least the airy chuckle it draws out of you reassures him that you're not mad.
This isn't how Jake had hoped things would go, but he's not about to let the jitters get the better of him or set the tone.
Your thumb absentmindedly caresses his inner wrist, keeping his hand glued to the aids of your face, ensuring he doesn't stop or pull back; a wordless encouraging plea.
Undeterred by his first clumsy attempt, Jake tries again. His hand slips from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you closer against him as his lips slant over your own. Unhurried, savouring, more focused on hearing more of those quiet sighs from you than being in his own head.
Your free hand had stayed limp at your side until now, unsure what to do with it or where to touch. It finds new purpose when you drape an arm lazily around the back of his neck, fingers lightly stroking through the hair at the nape, running upwards beneath his cap.
You feel the subtle shakyness in his breath against your lips, the goosebumps you felt beneath your touch. You're lightheaded in the best way possible, allowing yourself to melt into him now.
It occurs to you all at once that you're kissing Jake — someone who until only a couple of days prior, was a man you hadn't ever thought about having like this. And now he's all you can think about.
Jake was being serious when he said he didn't want to be that guy anymore, you know that. You can feel it in the way he holds you, just tight enough as if he never wants to let you go, the racing thud of his heart beneath his ribs that you can feel against your own chest; he's in pure disbelief that this is even happening, or that he could ever get so lucky that you'd feel the same way, and he's going to do everything in his power to not mess this up.
Jake Martin might be a fool, but he knows when he has a good thing going, and you coming into his life 4 years ago was about the best thing that could ever happen to him.
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A lot had changed in the months following your decision to stay with BSR. Kevin had stuck to his promise on behaving trackside, you hadn't even had to cast a glare in his direction once, and with your newly hired assistant tailing you, it meant you were free to focus on more pressing things.
Truly, your focus was on work, most of the time. You didn't feel that battle in your head anymore, or the tiresome and never-ending loop of just wanting to bury head in the sand between team scandals.
As for you and Jake?
Of course he'd been on his best behaviour, the idiot was smitten with you, but the two of you just wanted to enjoy exploring whatever this was that was unfolding before you could even think of sharing any kind of relationship status upgrade with the rest of the team.
With the exception of Beth, who had a nose like a bloodhound and caught a whiff of your perfume on Jake one morning, saw the hickey on his neck and decided to play detective — catching the two of you in a lunch hour makeout session in the lockeroom.
Maybe the two of you are a HR departments worst nightmare right now. In that honeymoon phase where neither of you can keep your hands off each other, pushing your luck to see how far things can go with the risk of being caught.
Things heating up off track had seemed to give Jake a reason to push himself even more when he was behind the wheel too, it had been like a fire was lit beneath him and the last few weekends had seen new personal bests set in practice, and a dominating presence during races. When asked about what's suddenly got him so motivated, he'd respond with the practiced answer you'd supplied and rehearsed with him on a rare lazy morning in bed.
Truthfully, knowing that you were up in the stands cheering him as not only part of the team, but as someone who's quickly become very important to him — and that was all the drive he needed.
That and the looks on the Hendrick crew faces was priceless when Jake would get to watch the footage back as he left their driver's in the dust, they'd never even suspect that he was the mastermind behind getting you to stay; and now he gets to rub it in their faces too.
Each exceptional race seemed to bolster his confidence more and more, and the Jake that would once spend the night partying after, would now rather celebrate with you — usually naked and buried between your thighs.
You really don't know how the two of you have managed to keep things on the sly for so long, and whether anyone actually suspects anything or not is one thing, but you'll gladly reap the benefits of it while it remains private. Jake's even sonehow maintained not bumping into the triplet fanclub in your building while sneaking in and out for visits.
Yes, the two of you were very much enjoying being tangled up in this secret, especially when it meant getting to push the limit.
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The decision to stay late tonight was a ploy on your part. The skirt you'd worn today may or may not have also been part of your plan too, and it seemed to work like a charm considering every time you'd walk by Jake you'd catch him practically drooling with his mouth agape like some lustful cartoon wolf.
You'd become fixated on the idea of getting Jake to defile his racecar by doing filthy, nasty things to with you — in it or on it — and today was the day you'd chosen to carry out the steps that would lead you to getting what you want.
It hadn't really taken much effort on your part, Jake was after all, a simple man. As much as you adore him, it was fun to watch him squirm all day long, catching him subtly readjusting himself more than once throughout the day.
Up in your office alone, you pretended to work while you knew Jake would be hanging around somewhere nearby outside the shop; hopeful that you'd come out soon so he could bundle you in his car and take you home to finally get some relief from the on-off hard on he's been battling with for hours.
While the potential idea of giving him road-head sounded like fun, you were determined to see out your plot, knowing that he'd eventually cave and text you to ask you if you were going to be done any time soon.
Sure enough that came pretty quickly, in the form of a desperate WhatsApp message with a picture of his lap attached, the visible outline of his cock straining against his jeans, making your pussy clench around nothing.
Jake: Baby, when are u going 2 be done with ur work? U have no idea what u were doing 2 me today walking around in that skirt. I swear I almost crashed taking the car out 4 a spin around the track bc all the blood in my brain had rushed to my dick. I need u. ;)
Phase 1 of your plan had been a cakewalk, thanks to Jake and his temperance; or severe lack there of when it came to you.
Phase 2 was just a case of letting yourself into Catherine's office to turn off the security cameras, which was easy enough when you knew the code to her door was set to her dad's birthday. Was it technically breaking and entering? Maybe, but you weren't exactly in your right mind, and this seemed like the only way you were ever going to get to fulfill this little fantasy of yours.
Once you were sure you weren't going to hard launch your relationship with a security footage sex-tape, you wandered back out into the shop, tapping out a quick and inviting message to Jake; just suggestive enough to have him tripping over himself to come find you.
You tossed your phone aside onto one of the workbenches nearby before taking your place, leaning on the hood of his car, legs outstretched in front of you. It wasn't long before you heard the double doors at the front of the shop rattling, the pull door being pushed by an over-eager Jake who's been here more than long enough to know how those doors operate.
When he finally uses the last remains of any rational thought and stops wrestling with the door, rushing inside all flushed in the face — eyes landing on you and that lascivious smirk you're wearing.
══════════════════
It had been a frantic battle of hungry, claiming mouths. Hands roaming all over each other's bodies, groping at whatever parts of each other you could get to over your clothes. Jake had been on you within seconds, pressing you back against the side of his car, sneaking a hand beneath your skirt to knead at the supple meat of your inner thigh.
Your entire body felt like it was on fire. Jake had been itching to yank your panties off and fuck you silly from the second he'd laid eyes on you in that skirt this morning, and it showed in the way he'd been rushing through foreplay, desperate to be inside you.
That was until you flipped the script and tore your lips away from his own to whisper your obscene desires into his ear, spoken in that breathy purr that Jake's never able to say no to.
Now you're on your knees for him, the divoted metal flooring beneath you kissing your skin, cooling your legs while the rest of your body burns for the man above you.
You chance a glance up through your lashes. All you're doing is lazily sweeping your tongue over the tip of his cock and he's already gone, leant back against the car, one arm stretched out resting on the roof while his free hand caresses the back of your neck.
"Holy f-fuck baby." Jakes eyes are fixed on you, watching with parted lips that utter those sweetly groaned curses.
One hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other gripping at the denim loosely hanging around his thighs, squeezing your own together in an attempt to get some relief from the throb you feel between them.
You're not hurrying now, not while you've got him like this, despite the incessant ache and the rapidly dampening lace.
Swirling and lapping, alternating with slow strokes of your tongue up and down his velvety shaft, tracing over the delicious upward curve when you lick your way back up to the thick, flushed head.
You finally decide to stop tormenting him, only a little though. Your lips part, teasing the sensitive underside of his tip with your lower lip first, making him judder slightly with a quivering exhale. When you take him into your mouth, you're stingy with it, purposefully only allowing yourself to suck on the first inch of him while the hand wrapped around his girth steadily starts to move.
It's all driving Jake to insanity. He's panting above you, head tipping back as both his big hands land either side of your face,cupping and caressing you between them.
"Such a fucking tease." Jake rasps. "Fuck me, you're too good at this."
The gravely praise goes straight between your legs, panties clinging to your outer lips.
You move your hand away from his thigh to shove it beneath your skirt, moaning filthily around his cock when your fingers find your swollen clit over the lace.
The salty pre-cum dripping onto your tongue only serves to spur you on further, bobbing your head up and down, taking another inch and another, hollowing your cheeks as you lewdly slurp on him.
Jake's chin drops to his chest, gazing down at you to take everything in. Your hand up your skirt, playing with yourself while you get him off, the way your ass is curved in the air behind you, your tits heaving beneath your shirt. Couple all that with the sight of your warm and wet mouth slobbering on him, spit dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, and it's all too much.
"B-baby… Oh god. Look at you, you look so beautiful like this." He grits, biting back a shuddering groan when you add a little more suction. "Fuck, fuck, fuck… If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum so fucking fast." You can already tell by the way Jake's hips are jumping, making you gag around him, ellicting that broken croak from him that you could never tire of hearing.
You could keep going if you wanted to, suck him off until he's spilling down your throat, but you had more in mind for tonight.
Jake let's out a quiet hiss when you pull off his cock with a wet pop, pressing a teasing little kiss to the tip before you pull back to look up at him, lips twitching slyly. You drop your hand away from him all at once,stilling the other sandwiched between your thighs.
"Coming from the guy who once bragged about being consistent, but not always fast, huh?" You muse, seductively swiping away the saliva the corners of your lips with your thumb.
Before you can even attempt to rise from your knees, Jake's moving, hauling you up onto your feet by your arms, grabbing hold of you the moment you're back to full height. His kiss borders on manic; frought with pent up need, fumbling hastily with the buttons on your shirt.
Impatient lips tear away from your own, ducking down to kiss and suck at the swell of your breasts as soon as they're freed. One hand kneads and gropes over your bra while the other splays out over the small of your back, holding you tight against him while you arch and sigh.
Jake hums against your heated skin as he tugs the cups down over your tits, guiding one into his mouth to lave his tongue back and forth over your nipple, coaxing it to peak.
Your hands are all tangled up in his hair, gripping and tugging at the ends, delightedly moaning his name as his rigid cock grinds against your soft stomach.
Abruptly and without warning, he's spun you in his arms, manhandling you to bend over the hood of the car. Your palms fly out to press flat against the white carbon fiber as he nudges your feet apart with his own.
Jake's hands run up the backs of your thighs as he mouths his way down your spine, grasping at handfuls of your ass before flipping your skirt up, teasing his thumbs beneath the lacy band sitting on your hips.
"This is what you want, hmm?" He grunts, playfully pinging the elastic, grinning salaciously when you yelp and swat blindly at him behind you.
"Mm-hmm. A lot of scheming went into this, you know?"
"I don't think you needed to scheme too hard, babe." He remarks, leaning back slightly to admire the drenched lace sticking to you. "If you tell me to jump, I can guarantee I'd ask 'how high?'"
The breathy huff of laughter you let out tapers off into a small gasp when he hooks your panties to the side, tap tap tapping the head of his cock against your needy clit.
"Careful not to… damage the car. Imagine trying to explain that one away."
"The car can take a little pounding." Jake murmurs, barely keeping it together as he rolls his hips forward shallowly, collecting your slick, smearing it all over his rigid length. "The question is, can you take it?"
You're already so worked up, just sucking his cock soaked you enough, but now you're verging on embarrassingly drenched. You feel it coating the creases of your inner thighs.
Instead of answering with words, you answer with your actions. Folding your upper body over the hood with your ass arched high and that's all the confirmation Jake needs.
He teases his cock through your folds twice more, achingly slow before notching himself against you, green eyes fixed on the space between your bodies as he pushes into you just a single inch. Jake grips your hips when your wanton moan hits his ears, unable to stop himself from groaning with you as the curved tip disappears inside your welcoming heat.
He'll never get bored of the feeling of you wrapping around him, walls clutching tightly as he breaches you.
In a shallow inch, only to withdraw, transfixed on the way your cunt tremors in response to the loss of him; repeating the languid thrusts over and over again for his own self-gratifying needs as you gripe at him for more.
Jake doesn't make you wait, he could never say no to you, not when you sound so gorgeously greedy for what only he can give you.
A hand slides around to your stomach as he sinks deeper into you, thick thighs pushing against the curve of your ass as he bottoms out. His lips descend to the back of your neck, mouthing at every inch of skin he can find.
"You feel so good. I wish you could see how pretty you look wrapped around my cock like this too."
His honeyed words make you dizzy with desire, elongating your upper body over the hood, breath catching in your throat when your sensitive nipples make contact with the pleasantly cool carbon fiber surface. You find yourself getting lost in the idea of letting him film himself fucking you at some point. Maybe you'll suggest it as an incentive to get him through the last few months of the racing season, wanting to see exactly what he's seeing.
You give an experimental roll of your hips back into him when he holds still a moment too long for your liking, knowing he's probably a mess of gritted teeth and pinched brows trying his hardest not to blow his load already.
Jake can't exactly miss a blatant hint like that, despite the hazy feeling washing over him there and then. His fingers fan out over your stomach while white knuckling the lace waistband in his spare hand, using it for leverage as he starts to move.
Slow and steady strokes to build up to a purposeful rhythm, leaning over you, getting to watch the way your head lolls and your hips arch; the rippling skin as the globes of your ass slap against his thighs, bucking into you while he pulls you back into him.
The two of you are a whining, grunting mess of skin against skin. You're so wet you can hear it with every plunge of his cock, sucking him in with the most pornographic slurp you've ever heard yourself make while being fucked.
Your breathing quickens, short and sharp gasps leaving your lips as the air gets knocked from your lungs as his pace picks up, delivering devestatingly deep punches.
Jake stutters out a string of filthy curse words behind you when he feels your inner walls starting to spasm, but he knows he needs to up his game if you're going to reach your peak with him.
Reluctantly, and only for a moment, he pulls out. His glistening cock bobbing heavily between his legs as he guides your pliant body by your hips, urging you to turn over so you're able to see him and most importantly, he's able to see you.
You're both moving on autopilot, grasping at each other as if it pains both of you to be apart.
You're sprawled out over the hood now, laid back upon it looking so perfectly fucked out already.
Jake grips one of your thighs, throwing a leg over his shoulder as he guides himself back into you, getting to see your face screw up so beautifully when he's fully buried in you again, earning a kerning cry from you when he continues that same pace he'd built up to.
His arms shake either side of your waist with the effort it's taking to not just slump against you, but he needs to witness exactly what he's doing to you.
Your nails find purchase in his sweat-saturated forearm, indenting crescents into his skin.
The mixing scents of sex and gasoline providing you with a high that you wish you would never end.
"Jake!" He knows that sound, the breathless way you moan his name, the one that makes his rhythm falter for the briefest moment as he fights back his bodies urge to spill into you before he's even bought you to ecstasy.
Bracing himself on the forearm you cling to, he slips his free hand between your bodies, snapping the lace away from your swollen sex to find your clit, rapidly circling the engorged bud as he fucks into you with new purpose, truly testing the limits of the suspension on his racecar.
It's not long before he has you right where he wants you, head thrown back as rapturous ecstasy washes over you.
You squeeze at your own bouncing breast as you babble out incoherent praise, plucking your nipple between your fingers just for that extra added high as you reach the plateau and the point of no return.
The white hot heat in your loins hits you so fast you lose all ability to form a coherent thought, all you know is the elated feeling of all the tension leaving your body all at once as your wrecked cries echo out and drive Jake straight off the edge with you.
He tries his hardest to stay in control, he really does, but when you sound like that, when you look like that, when you feel like that as you gush around him? It's hopeless, and he's gone within milliseconds of your own release.
Jake cums with an almost pained shout of your name, turning his head towards your calf draped over his shoulder, mouthing at it dumbly as his cock pulses and jerks inside you. The hot and sticky spurts paint your insides, mixing with your own milky release as his trembling thrusts slow to a gradual stop, ensuring both of you are thoroughly drained before allowing himself to slump his body in a heap over your own.
You're in that lazy, blissful inbetween state where the world stops and dwindles down to the existence of just you and Jake. Your fingers gently rake through his sweat-dampened hair as he buries his face in your neck, hot panting breath fanning over your skin, racing heartbeats in sync.
He doesn't dare to move, not even when his spend starts leaking out around the edges where his cock begins to soften inside you; too lost in the moment to even fathom it. You don't mind. You're completely boneless right now anyway, even if he did try to move you'd probably stop him.
It's a long and peaceful moment of just holding and caressing each other before either of you have regained enough brain power to form words. Jake breaks the silence first, placing a tender kiss to the thrumming pulse in your neck before lifting his head up to gaze down at you — all gooey eyes and lopsided smiles.
"You okay?" He raises a hand to your dewy cheek, brushing his fingers lightly over your skin.
He always gets so sweet with you after sex, it's the serious side of him not many people get to see, and you feel lucky that you're on the receiving end of it.
You give a languid nod, unable to stop the way your lips curve in response to how he's looking at you right now.
"Mm-hmm. Though my leg is starting to cramp"
"Oh shit sorry! Here let me." As Jake scurries to lower your leg off his shoulder, you exhale a small huff of laughter.He barely let's his eyes drift from your face for a single moment, lips stretching wider when he hears your amusement. "Do you need anything? I think I've got a towel in my locker? I can go grab it so we can get you cleaned up?" He really is adorable when he's fawning over you.
You still your fingers in his mussed hair, holding him in place to stop him from going anywhere. "No. We can stay like this a little longer. Please?"
That soft tone of yours makes him melt, and it's right there in that moment, when you've got that sparkle in your eyes, that you are simply the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and that he is head over heels in love with you. He just needs to bide his time to admit it when the timing is right.
"I'm not going anywhere, baby." Jake murmurs lowly, taking one last long look at you before ducking down to capture your lips with his own.
══════════════════
The two of you had ensured no trace of your sordid antics had been left behind the night before, meticulously cleaning up every spilled drop of evidence off the hood of his car before leaving together for the night — indulging in another round in your shower before you collapsed together in bed for the evening.
The least favourite part of Jake's day is when he has to leave early and head back to his place to get ready for the day ahead. If he showed up at the shop in yesterday's clothes that would arose suspicions too much, and he's not sure Beth would be able to keep a straight face the entire time he's being grilled on who he'd been with the night before.
He holds you by the hips in the doorway to your apartment, kissing you slow, wanting the tingle of your lips on his own to last the entire day… or at least until the two of you can find a spare moment to sneak off somewhere, which usually occurs within the first few hours of the day.
It takes all his willpower to pull away from you, sighing as if it's not just going to be a matter of hours before he sew's you again.
"What?" You half chuckle, adjusting the skewed collar of his jacket for him.
"I'll miss you." Jake pouts, dead serious.
You hold back your amusement this time, just barely. "You'll literally see me again in like 2 hours, dummy." There's nothing but affectionate jabbing in your tone, and truth be told, it's getting harder for you to ignore the way you long for him too, even in those brief periods of time.
"I know!" He laments, groaning over dramatically as he shoves his cap on his head to hide the wild, unbrushed morning hair. "Still, it feels like a long time between now and then."
This love-sick sappy man in your doorway can't be the same Jake Martin you met 4 years ago. It's not really, not when he's settling into a man you could see yourself having a future with; not that you'd admit that out loud right now.
You figure the least you could do is throw him a bone though, put him out of his onesided pining misery. When you loop your arms around his neck, Jake's face lights up in an instant.
"I'll miss you too, for the record."
And you really meant it.
That morning was the start of something real for the both of you. When the 3C triplets caught the two of you canoodling and asked in awe if Jake was your boyfriend, all you had to do was take one look at his hopeful expression, and the word 'yes' came naturally.
══════════════════
It wouldn't be until years down the line when Jake revealed to you the extent of what he'd done to keep you in his life. You knew parts of it, but not about how he'd given up half of his own salary to put towards Catherine bumping up your own wages.
In hindsight, it was probably the smartest thing Jake had ever done given his track record with frivolous spending — which to this day you're still finding yourself pulling him away from the odd gas station weirdo offering to sell him random shit from the ground on the premise of it being lucky.
While you might be able to stop him from pissing away his money on useless junk, you hadn't been there to stop him from buying you that ring he'd had his eye on for the last few months.
Now it's just sitting pristine in its velvet box in the back of his sock drawer while he waits for the perfect time to ask you the single-most important question of his entire life.
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Additional authors note: Thank you so much if you read all of this! I think this is one of my favourite fics that I've written to date and I hope you enjoyed it too 💜 Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated.
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✨️ Frenchie's story time about her time at Montreal CC and meeting the cast of Peacemaker ✨️
Sorry if it's long, but I wanna keep this post as some kind of reminder/souvenir of the event for myself! I might update it from time to time if I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering something new lmfao.
First and foremost, sadly no Freddie Stroma at the con, BUT Robert Patrick, Nhut Lee, Steve Agee and Sol Rodriguez were amazing guests.
FRIDAY, there was a Q&A panel and here are my notes/what I remember:
• Robert Patrick is funny af lmfao
• I know Steve Agee is very tall and Nhut Lee a small king, but they were sitting next to each other and the height difference was astonishing to witness.
• Sol Rodriguez is STUNNING.
• A few people asked Robert Patrick about Terminator 2 (I mean, of course) and he acknowledges that this role typecasted him as a villain, but that he embraces it.
• He confirmed Auggie Smith is dead dead.
• They pretty much said they didn't heard anything about a Peacemaker S3 or a Checkmate series, but they're waiting eagerly for it.
• Nhut said his hardest scene to film was the first he actually shot for S1; the scene where Peacemaker is tied to a chair and Judomaster was flipping cheetos at him. Because of his helmet and the crunch of the chips, he couldn't hear what John Cena's lines (and he improvises a lot) so he had to time when he was eating to hear him.
• Sol's favorite funniest scene was Economos spitting in Fleury's face.
• Steve said a sequel for The Suicide Squad wasn't impossible.
• They said all their parents were very supportive of their ambition of becoming actor. Although, Steve admitted that his parents were afraid for him of going to Hollywood and Nhut was surprised his parents were supportive since he's a child of immigrants (he laughed when he said that lmfao).
• Steve's hardest scene to film was the one from S1 last episode in which Economos explains the reason why he dye his beard.
• Steve met James Gunn through Shawnee Smith (yes, the Amanda from the Saw franchise) and they've been bestie since then.
SATURDAY, we went to meet Nhut and Sol at their tables and there was nobody in line so we had all of them for ourselves.
For context, my friend and I do pole dancing and we came to the conclusion that the Peacemaker soundtrack basically sounds like a stripper playlist and we thought "oh shit, we're asking them for their stripping songs to add it to our playlist".
We were women on a mission, but anywayyyyy
• Nhut is so fucking sweet and gentle and fucking adorable.
• He loves James Gunn's movie Slither.
• He told us how freezing it was to film in Canada in winter (understandable).
• He told us him, Sol and Steve often have movie nights together and that they should watch James' filmography.
• He now wants a Judomaster scene where he kicks people's ass while pole dancing lmfao. He told us he'll ask James.
• I feel like I'm repeating myself, but Sol is also fucking amazing. She really has a ''we're besties'' vibe going on.
• She was so fucking into the fact my friend and I were doing pole dancing (Nhut was also).
• For real, the conversation was fucking wild. We talked about stripping, going to karaoke together and get on the table and just do our thing lmfao.
• Sol literally followed my friend on Insta, I'm telling you, it was crazy.
• Sol and Nhut asked us to do some pole choreo and post a video of it on Insta and tagged them.
• Sol's stripping song was Pour It Up by Rihanna and Nhut's were Toxic by Britney Spears and Lose Yourself by Eminem.
• We took a picture with both of them with the vibe being ''trying to be cunty''.
SUNDAY, we went to meet Steven because we didn't see him the day before. There were like two people in front of us, so not a big wait.
• ALTHOUGH, while we were waiting, Nhut saw us and waved at us, all smiley. Then Sol also saw us and she was so excited!!
• Steve was really nice and was really surprise by our stripper question lmfaooooo
• We didn't interacted that much with him cuz some people were waiting behind us.
• But I took an ugly selfie with him and I'm repeating myself, but he is so fucking tall. We had to work hard to make that selfie happens.
• Steve's stripping song is Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard because of course it is.
• We went back to talk to Sol because my friend is in love with her.
• She was still so nice to us.
• My friend took a picture with her lifting her up, it was cute af.
• Then we had to go so we told her and Nhut bye and until next time.
• We unfortunately didn't meet Robert Patrick, but I'm pretty sure he would've been a blast and really into our stripper question.
I'm probably forgetting a lot and might update this list as time goes on. If you have a chance to meet any of the cast, go for it, it was so much fun, they were so nice and you can tell by the way that they interact with each other that they're friends for real.
But anywayyyyy, I think we made an ✨️ impression ✨️ for real lmfao
Some personal shit, but I guess I need to let it out.
Have you ever have a "friend" (or should I say an acquaintance) where you thought at first you'd get along pretty well and become good friends, but after meeting with them a second and a third time, you don't feel it at all?
And not because the said person turns out to be some horrible monster, you just...don't feel the connection you should have to form a solid friendship.
You feel like you're performing in front of them and it exhaust you so fucking bad.
But the problem is, that person seems to really like you, but only that performing aspect of you, not the real you.
Crazy, but it never happened to me before and I legit do not know what to do.
How do you "break up" a friendship? "It's not you, it's me?" lmfaooo
Plot Summary: After the disaster that was Everlasting, Adam was in need of a new project, one that he could control and throw himself into in order to try and distract himself from just how derailed his life had gotten. Buying the vineyard in Napa Valley was the first step, rebuilding it and bringing it to its former glory was the next; hiring your construction company to help him.
General warning: Adults Only. MDNI.
Chapter One - Sour Grapes. Warnings: Reader is in her 30's. Financial struggles. Mentions of parental loss and sickness/being a caregiver. Insulting the British (I'm British, it's encouraged tbh). Adam's a serial womanizer
Chapter Two - Breaking Ground. Warnings: Adam thinks PG Tips is the best tea (boy, you're rich, I know you can afford Yorkshire tea). Mentions of reader being evicted from her apartment/sleeping in her office. Mentions of parental death anniversary. Reader reluctantly accepting comfort. Adam's sex tape gets passed around, slight smut when reader watches it. Reader deep dives on Adam and finds out about his chequered past. Reader rejects Adam. Small argument.
A/N: I'm still struggling to pick back up with my writing a bit, bear with me <3 and even though I did want to finish this entire fic before posting, I thought I'd post the chapters I do have since they're just sitting in the docs anyway and I love what I have so far for this.
Note: My readers are written with inclusivity and women of colour in mind, with minimal descriptors or indetifying features, along with actions and intent, however everyone can read and enjoy. 💜
-> Do not be a fucknut! I do not give permission for my fics to be copied or fed into any AI software <-
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From The Ground Up Masterlist || Chapters 3 - 4 || Chapter 5 || Optional Epilogue
If you read to the end, please leave a comment or reblog, it would mean a lot to me — feedback welcome 💜
Chapter 1 - Sour Grapes
Sick of the constant humiliation ritual that was his life, and after the absolute shitshow that was Everlasting, Adam took a break from the public eye. The mental toll that whole experience had put on him and the fallout from the season ender was enough to make him want to move to the middle of no where and be in complete solitude from the outside world and prying paparazzi.
So that's what he did, with the remainder of his trust fund money and a sizeable business loan, Adam bought the vineyard he'd always been dreaming of…
... Well, not entirely.
He had a list of requirements:
Must be based in California - Check.
Must be at least 100 acres worth of land - Not quite, it was only 75, but who exactly is going to know?
Must have a beautiful view - That depends on what your individual definition of beautiful is. If you mean sprawling countryside and greenery, yes! However, Adam's vineyard was located beside a dairy farm, and the cows are quite cute! When they're not leaving piles of shit near the perimeter fence, that is.
It was certainly a fixer upper when Adam bought it too, the winery was dilapidated and falling apart, the soil quality was awful, and with all the unforseen costs of buying the place, the money had swiftly burned a hole in his pocket, not leaving much in his budget for renovations.
There was no way that he was going to ask his father for any help, this belonged to Adam alone, he didn't need more reminders from the man that he was an absolute failure in life, he already knew that.
No, this was his time to prove something to himself, and to the world, that he could go it alone.
So, with a tight budget, and nothing but a distant dream, he made a quick internet search for a cheap construction company, and yours was top of the list.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Up to your eyeballs in bills, rent overdue so you could ensure you had enough in the business account to pay your workers this month, all you could hear in the back of your mind whenever your card would decline at the supermarket was the echo of your dad's death bed words, begging you not to screw up the family business.
You didn't know squat about construction, and the extent of your knowledge on DIY went as far as watching a YouTube tutorial on how to put up a shelf or putting together shit from IKEA. It had dawned on you about three days after your dad's passing that maybe this was a bad idea and that you weren't cut out to run a business like this, and perhaps you could sell your ownership to one of your cousins?
That couldn't happen though, you weren't a quitter, and despite the fact that you'd had no desire to go into construction yourself when you were old enough — a decision that your dad was disappointed about, but supported — your childhood memories were filled with days spent on site with him, getting to sit in the bulldozer or blaring out fake orders on the megaphone, you still have that picture of you at 5 years old, perched on your dad's lap, a toothy grin on your face, partially obscured by the hardhat that was 10 sizes too big for you.
You're doing it for that little girl, and for the man who raised you alone while juggling an entire business.
You'd see it through somehow.
When the call came through, you were rushing out of your apartment building, a stale slice of toast clenched between your teeth as you're rushing past the building managers office on your way out of the door.
Frantically fishing for your ringing cellphone in your pocket as you dart to your truck, you answer hastily, bringing the phone to your ear as you fumble with your keys, mumbled by the mouthful of toast.
"Hullogh?"
"I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch what you just said? I think it might be a bad line maybe?" A man with a strong British accent queries on the other end, making you swallow the barely chewed toast.
"I'm sorry, can you hear me now?" Getting into your truck, you toss the keys into the cup holder for safe keeping.
"Ah yes, that's much better, you have a really lovely voice."
This makes you pause, who is this man? And why is fish and chips flirting down the phone with you?
"Uhhh, thanks? Who is this exactly?"
"Oh! My apologies, I suppose I should have lead with that. I'm Adam, Adam Cromwell?" There's a weird pause, as if he's expecting you to recognize the name. "I'm looking to hire a construction company to do some work for me?"
Ding ding ding, you're a business owner, dummy.
Turn on the charm, you really do need the money. "Well that's great! And by the way? Your voice isn't half bad either, nice accent." Alright, he probably gets that all the time, but flattery is all you have right now.
"Is that so? Well, lovely, how about you put me through to your boss and maybe afterwards I give you a call back so we can chat some more amongst ourselves, hm?"
Your expression morphs into confusion, brows knitted together. "My boss?"
"Well yes? You are the secretary, I assume? I'm quite fond of secretaries mysel—"
Before he can even finish getting his smarmy words in, you hang up, tossing your cellphone into the back seat with a disgusted groan. "Fucking pig, he hears a woman's voice and thinks I'm the secretary?! This is my company, you crumpet eating twat." You shout out loud as if he could hear you, shoving the keys into the ignition and starting your now rage-fueled drive to the site.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The decades old AC rattles and whirrs loudly above head, calls and shouts outside from the crew are barely audible over all the machinery noises. You don't remember the last time you didn't go home with a headache after work.
Head buried in neglected paperwork, jaw in a permanent clenched state from stress and now annoyance that's still brewing inside you after this morning's call with the misogynistic Brit, you don't even hear the knocking at the door to your office.
Eventually it swings open and one of the longer-term crew members is there —Sam— poking his head around the door, greying beard coated in dust that had been kicked up from manual labor. "Hey, kid! Your boyfriends here to see you."
Sighing, you set down your pen and close your laptop, throwing a puzzled look at the man in the doorway. "First of all, I told you not to call me that anymore. Secondly, I don't have a boyfriend."
"Really? Kinda seems like you do."
"Man, what the fuck are you talking ab—"
Stepping aside to let someone in, that's when you first lay eyes on him, tall with well groomed blonde-brown hair, a charming smile and a strong jawline, a sharp dresser too; no one shows up to a construction site wearing loafers and a dress shirt. He has a bunch of flowers in his hand, an ostentatiously large bouquet with a random assortment in.
Do you have a boyfriend?? Did you get black out drunk at a bar last week and fuck a clingy businessman?
All your questions are answered when he opens his mouth and speaks. "Hello, it's Adam, we spoke on the phone this morning?"
Immediately your confusion shifts, irritation flaring again. "Great, if you've come to see the Boss, he's in the can, might be a while, he had gas station sushi for lunch" You quip, noting the teasing whistle from Sam as he leaves you alone with Adam.
He takes a tentative step closer to your desk, free hand raised in a placating gesture. "Okay, I deserve this cold shoulder treatment, I was an arsehole, I shouldn't have presumed, though you didn't actually hang up, I heard you, and I have to say, as much as I do love crumpets, I also know when to apologise."
While his lopsided smile is easy on the eye, you're not won over that easily.
"How the fuck did you even know where to find me? Don't tell me the accent comes with a free James Bond cosplay."
His laugh shouldn't sound so good to you, you're pissed at him. "No unfortunately it doesn't, but I do know how to use social media and the business Instagram said your crew was currently here soooooo…"
"So you thought stalking was the next best thing?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it stalking? It's not like I'm showing up outside your house, but if you'd like to play hard to get?"
Holding up your hand to stop him, you've had just about enough of the charm offensive. "Great, so you came here to apologize, you've done that, you can take your flowers with you though on your way out, I'm more of a booze and chocolate kinda gal anyway."
"Wow, you really are a tough nut to crack. Okay, I'm a knob, I can admit that." Ignoring your insistence that he leaves, Adam instead takes a seat in front of your desk, setting the flowers down on the corner of it. "I'm going to cut to the chase here, I need you."
"Ohhhh that's real classy, hitting on me over the phone wasn't enough, so you're doing it in person now too?"
"You're actually infuriating, let me finish, please? I'm not flirting this time, I'm here to hire you and your crew. I own a vineyard, well, sort of. I own the land, the entire place is buggered and I need to rebuild it from the ground up, I can pay a deposit up front, liase with the architects and have them speak with you."
Your eyebrows shoot up half an inch, he's rich rich, and you just maxed out your last business credit card this morning on new materials, you're already relying on the money from finishing this job in order to be able to pay wages, and though he's a new name on your list of people you want to run over with a bulldozer, you have to prioritize the family business first.
"How big is the property?" You quiz, grabbing a scrap piece of paper, ready to jot down a quote.
"Almost 100 acres! 75 to be precise." He admits reluctantly, as if it were damaging to do so. "I just need the place leveled and rebuilt, winery, guest house overlooking the vineyard, the whole nine yards."
Eyeing him suspiciously, stopping your note taking for a moment. "I'm more in the business of apartment complexes, houses, schools, that kind of thing, this isn't exactly in our wheelhouse here…"
"Oh no, I know, I researched the company history when I found you on Google, quite impressive, I must say, kudos to your father for keeping a generations old family business going, very admirable." At the mention of your dad, your heart aches, it's been almost a year already and still any time he's bought up, you have to fight off the urge to cry. "And I'm deeply sorry about his passing, he sounds like he was a wonderful man." The honest sincerity catches you off guard, he's a perfect stranger and yet there's something in the way he holds your gaze that makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world.
"Thanks, he uh, he'd probably have told you to fuck off back to England if I'm being totally honest." You half chuckle, feeling just a fraction less murderous towards him now.
That stupid handsome smile of his makes an appearance once more, you wish he'd stop doing that. "Deserved, honestly, but I'm not speaking with your father right now, am I? I'm speaking with you, and I'd really appreciate it if you could at least consider it and perhaps work out a quote so I know exactly how long I'm going to have to scream into a pillow for?"
Charming prick. It's almost like he could sense the urgent need for money radiating off you, perhaps that's just your general vibe these days, desperate and frazzled has a certain look to it.
"I don't need to think on it, we'll do it. As for a number, I'll need time to work that one out, overhead fees, contracter fees. You just have your architect draw up plans and send them over to me and I can work out a ballpark figure for you, it's not going to be cheap though."
"Well aware, but I am truly looking forward to working with you, and about before? When I thought you were a secretary? I'm sorry about that, that was rude and sexist of me to make any kind of assumptions. Truce?"
He extends his hand over your desk, careful to avoid the stacks of paperwork and half empty coffee cups. For a moment you want to swat his hand away, tell him you still think he's a dick, but you don't.
Slipping your hand into his own, you're struck by the firm, but careful grasp as you shake hands, the warmth of his palm against your own jolts you, years of being a care-giver to your father clearly left you more touch starved than you thought if you're internally swooning over this.
Unsurprisingly, you're the first one to break the handshake. "Truce, I guess, but don't think this doesn't mean I'm not going to find somewhere to tack on a couple of zero's onto my fee, y'know, for damages." You quip, smiling wryly at him.
Adam stands, chuckling and smirking over the desk at you, clearly not taking your threat of compensation seriously. "You do that, I'll be in touch soon, it was very nice to meet you, and a little bit terrifying at the same time."
Don't smile at that, don't give him the satisfaction of thinking that he's funny.
You do anyway, waiting until his back is turned as he makes his way out of your office, but not before he looks over his shoulder one more time and catches you in the act.
"Hey! You forgot to take—" You don't get to finish your sentence before he's out of the door, leaving you alone, with a beautiful boquet of flowers perched on the corner of your desk.
Chapter 2 - Breaking Ground
Work on Adam's vineyard started almost immediately after he and his architect had drawn up and settled on the plans, it was going to be a big job that was going to take roughly 18 months or so to complete, give or take a month here and there for adverse weather conditions — or if you end up strangling that man with your bare hands.
He was just always there.
There was absolutely no need for him to be hanging around a construction site like he was, but Adam lived on the grounds too in a trailer, and no, it wasn't the kind you'd find at a regular trailer park either, of course not, even that looked like it had its own zip code, just a massive wealth-flaunting eyesore.
You weren't even safe from him in your office, the one place you can seek solitude and lock yourself away under the guise of catching up on paperwork, but really you were taking a power nap or reading one of those smutty novels you enjoy so much.
But, no! Those little moments of peace had gone out the window when he started to take it upon himself to deliver cups of tea to everyone on site, including you, despite the numerous times you'd told him it tasted like dishwater.
"That is PG Tips, you aren't going to find a better cup of tea than that." Adam states proudly.
"If that's the best England has to offer, then I have to say you're all doomed."
He scoffs, watching as you reluctantly sip from the cup anyway, grimacing at the taste. "You know what your problem is?"
Setting the tea down with a sigh, you lean back in your chair. "No, but I'm sure you're about to enlighten me."
"You've just become accustomed to that piss water you call coffee, I mean, christ, look at that thing." He gestures to the coffee maker on the other side of your office. "It looks like it was made around the same time coffee was discovered."
"Yeah? And it makes a perfectly good cup of coffee, which is more than I can say for you as this… swill." You wrinkle your nose up at the cup on your desk again, the tan-coloured beverage barely touched.
"God, you really are impossible to please, aren't you?"
"Really? You've come to that conclusion just because I don't like your stupid tea? I'm sorry, I didn't realize his royal highness was that sensitive about it."
"Oh, snarky now too? Very cute." You wish he wouldn't grin at you like that, or lean on the desk in that certain way that makes his biceps strain against his sleeves.
"No, no really, I'm truly sorry to have offended you, I know you're used to having your butler bring you tea all day long in your castle, so I guess you doing all this is your way of trying to replicate that."
What are you doing? This is awfully close to crossing a line, you don't shit where you eat, he's only flirting with you because you're the closest woman within his proximity anyway.
Adam's smile is so wide now, his cheeks must hurt. "Actually, Simon only serves tea twice a day, any other time I have to walk from one end of the castle to the other, it's exhausting."
"Yeah, sounds about right for a guy who's trailer looks like it could house a family of 5."
"I'm sorry, just because I'm 'slumming it' currently, shouldn't mean that I don't get to do that in style."
You roll your eyes, finding any excuse to busy yourself, grabbing the nearest stack of invoices, thumbing through them as if you're suddenly busy. "Great, well if you insist on playing tea boy while we're here, then I'm going to need you to wear a hard hat if you're going to be wandering around on my building site."
"And ruin my hair? I'll pass." He really is pissing you off now.
Your gaze sharpens, glancing back up at him to see a hint of smug pride that says he knows he's pushing his luck. "It wasn't a suggestion, OSHA will have my ass if you get injured all because you're trying to prove a point."
"Listen sweetheart…" Adam's eyes stay locked with your own, challenging you to break eye contact first. "… It might be your building site, but it's my property. I know the risks, I quite enjoy it when there are risks involved, actually."
There's something in the cadence of his words that makes your blood run a little hotter, and in that moment you decide he's the most annoying man you've ever met.
No one says a word for what feels like the longest 20 seconds of your life, staring each other down like a couple of predators vying for the same prey.
Saved by the bell, his cellphone begins to ring in his pocket. You can tell he's reluctant to break the moment, to give you the satisfaction, but he does anyway.
Adam leaves your office with the phone glued to his ear, turning back to throw you a wink. Outside you can hear the raucous jeers and shouts from your crew outside, thanking him for the hot drinks. Those double-crossing shits.
"He's about as charming as an ingrown toenail." You scoff, thinking out loud as you grab the mug of tea he'd left for you, pushing up from your desk to go tip the remainder into the neglected cacti plant that sits in the corner of your office.
For some reason, unknown even to you, you don't tip the contents away into the plant pot.
Instead you find yourself drinking the entire thing, begrudgingly coming to the conclusion that actually, it's not half bad.
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Summer turns to autumn all too quickly, the days become shorter and wetter, the crisp chill in the air nips at any exposed slither of skin first thing in the morning when the crew begin to arrive on site.
Things had gone from bad to worse for you in the last 3 months, despite the generous down payment of a deposit for this job with Adam, you were still struggling to make ends meet. All the overdue bills had to be paid off first, the credit debt that you'd amassed in the last 12 months just trying to adjust to this new life of yours. While it meant you no longer had those hanging over your head, the rest of the money was earmarked for labor expenses and materials, leaving you back at square one with barely anything left in your pocket.
Your landlord had gotten sick of the excuses, they'd been understanding to a point after your dad died, but when you came home to an eviction notice taped to your door last month, it hadn't come as a huge surprise to you.
Broke and broken seemed to be your forte at this point.
The couch in your office was anything but comfortable, but so far you'd been managing to get away with staying there, if Adam had noticed your car on the grounds after hours, he hadn't said anything about it, or maybe he did notice and just didn't care. Either way, you were getting by sleeping there, showering at your gym, eating a diet consisting of dinners you could throw in the microwave in the office, breakfasts from a nearby fast food place and sandwiches shared at lunch that had been lovingly prepared by Sam's wife.
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From the moment you'd opened your eyes, you wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, pretend the day wasn't happening, curl up into a ball and ignore the ache in your chest and the empty feeling left there.
You'd been dreading this day, all the plans you had made to honour the memory of your dad were just unobtainable right now. You wanted to scatter his ashes at the beach today, but the pelting rain outside and your car almost on empty means you're not going anywhere, not when you can't even afford the full tank it would take to get there.
At least you we're keeping his business alive, just barely, anyway.
You'd given the guys the day off in lieu, your dad was just as much a friend to all of them as he was a boss, and you knew he'd rather they spent their day at the bar keeping his memory alive while they exchange drunken stories about him, rather than having the poor bastards working out in the miserable weather outside that day.
Determined to at least do something other than wallow on the first anniversary of his death, you pulled up the maps app on your phone, in search of the nearest river to Adam's vineyard instead.
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Miserable, freezing cold and soaked to the bone, you'd trecked in the mud and rain almost 3 miles to get here. If the weather wasn't so shit, it would absolutely be a beauty spot, a wide, open river surrounded by trees, with hiking paths either side of the embankment, you could practically picture your dad up here, fishing rod in hand, on a day where the weather isn't as depressing as your general mood is right now.
Sitting on the boggy riverbank, jacket huddled over the urn, you let the rain and wind whip at your face, your hood no longer serving it's purpose of keeping you dry when the rest of you is drenched anyway.
"Yeah, I know, you don't need to tell me, this was a dumb idea." Looking upwards towards the dark clouds, each drop of rain feeling like a pinch against your painfully cold cheeks. "Sorry dad, this isn't the send off I pictured for you, wanted to take you to the beach, find the spot where you proposed to mom… I can't even do that right."
Head bowed once more, you bring your knees up, hugging them closer to you as a chill runs through you.
"Maybe next year, huh? I'll pick a better day, scatter you on the beach so you can be with—"
"Who are you talking to?"
A chipper voice several feet away makes you jump out of your skin, hand clutched to your chest as you whip your head in their direction.
Of course it would be him.
You've seen his stupid face every day for the last 106 days, why wouldn't he appear on a day like today? You're only trying to have a personal moment and mourn alone!
He's dressed in running gear, shorts and shirt hugging his body like a second skin, his hair curling in places, plastered to his head in others.
"No one. Myself. What are you doing here?" You answer too quickly, uncaring if he grows suspicious of you.
"This place is on my running route, it's stunning up here. Usually, anyway." Adam half chuckles, pushing back his sodden hair with a swipe of his hand. "Are you okay? I can keep you company if you wan—"
"No!" The response comes out more abrupt than you intended, already overwhelmed as it is, the last thing you need is Mr.Tea-and-biscuits making it worse.
The upbeat expression falls away from his face, replaced by something more conflicted, you don't have the time or energy to feel bad about upsetting him right now though.
"Alright, I suppose I'll leave you to it then." He replies tersely, pushing off into a jog once more.
You don't know why, or what possessed you to do it, but as he jogs by you, you find yourself unable to stop yourself from watching him. Not in some perverse, ogling way, just lingering on his retreating form. It makes something inside you ache, like the need for any kind of human contact today outweighs the stubborn pride you hold.
"Wait." It's said once, only just loud enough for him to hear you, by now you've looked away again, casting your eyes back to the choppy free-flowing river in front of you.
Adam says nothing, you only know he's coming closer when you hear the sounds of squelching footsteps in the mud, and a heavy sigh a few feet away when he quietly sits down nearby.
"It's today, isn't it?"
You don't have to look at him to know what he's talking about, he has that same sympathetic tone in his voice that everyone has had with you ever since your dad died. It used to piss you off, somehow it hadn't occurred to you that losing a parent in your 30's would mean that people would treat you with kid-gloves, tiptoeing around the subject as if you hadn't had 3 years to get used to the idea of being an orphan in the first place when he was unwell.
"It is." Dropping your gaze downwards you place a hand on top of your jacket, the urn beneath bone-dry. "I was going to scatter his ashes today, I've been meaning to, but, one way or another life has gotten in the way, and I guess it's out of the window now anyway." You laugh, mirthless.
Feeling his eyes on you makes you uncomfortable, being perceived in a vulnerable moment like this isn't what you wanted, by now, you wanted to be neck deep in cheap beer after saying goodbye to your dad on the beach, but you'd have to settle for throwing yourself a pity party instead.
"You picked a rather shit day for it didn't you?" There's a light teasing in his tone, it's enough to make you feel a twitch of a smile pull at your lips.
"I was trying to be sentimental about it, you know? Honour him on the day he died, or whatever?"
"And how's that working out for you?"
"Terribly, pretty sure I gave myself trench foot walking up here, I can't feel my fingers, and I'm sitting with Britain's answer to a Prince William rip off. This one's for you, dad." Chuckling lightly, you pat the urn, hugging it closer to your body as if you were trying to keep the contents warm.
"I'm offended actually, I've met William and he's a total cunt, although that also sums up most of the monarchy to be quite honest."
The laugh that pulls from you is unexpected, bursting out of you before you have a chance to smother it.
When you finally do look over at Adam, he's grinning like a Cheshire cat, his own laughter is a warm and soothing melody that makes your palms sweat.
"Somehow, I believe you. My apologies."
"Accepted. Ouch, you're mean when you're sad. You're mean when you're happy too, actually."
"So just plain mean?"
"Well, when you put it like that."
The back and forthing the two of you have has grown to be something you reluctantly enjoy, not that you'd ever admit it out loud though.
"God, he really would hate you." You sigh, smiling down at the lump beneath your jacket. Finally, the rain is beginning to ease up and there's a break in the clouds where the sun is trying to break through.
"Well, my own father doesn't even like me, so it's hardly surprising that anyone else's wouldn't either."
Noting the self-wallowing edge in his words makes you grimace, you'd been running on assumptions about Adam, one of them being that perhaps his project with the vineyard was being funded by a wealthy parent. Apparently, you were wrong.
"Okay, none of that. Today's my day remember, yoo-hoo, dead dad." Unzipping the jacket, you gesture to his urn, attempting to reinject some much needed levity into the moment.
It works, you see him attempt to hold back his amusement, lips twisting and twitching, stifling the smile.
"Fair play, excellent use of the dead dad pass."
And then there's a beat, a stretching silence where you think he's going to say something that's sure to annoy you in some shape or form.
To your surprise though, he doesn't. The next words out of his mouth were ones you'd heard so many times over the last year, each time they sounded hollow or scripted, as if everyone who'd said it to you was on empathy auto-pilot.
But with him, it never felt insincere.
"I might not have known your father, from what I read about him, he sounds like he was a great man, and I don't mean it lightly when I say that I think he would be very proud of you."
And even as much as you don't want to, even as much as you will it not to happen, it happens anyway, tears on your waterline forming almost instantaneously, swiping them away with a knuckled finger and a watery smile.
Adam makes no attempt to move, no sudden shifting closer to you or an unnecessary hug you didn't ask for, and you're grateful to him for that.
"Thank you." You sincerely meant it too.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
That day has been etched in your memory for weeks, how Adam sat with you until the clouds had cleared and the sun finally began to shine, just keeping you company, talking about everything and nothing.
You didn't scatter your dad's ashes that day, choosing to wait until a time you can take him to the beach to be with your mom, and leave the memory of the anniversary of his death as something separate.
Every time you thought about that day, the first thing you'd picture is Adam's smile, the warmth and infectious energy it held in it.
Then you think about how when the both of you finally got back up, ready to leave, he slipped in the mud and fell ass first into a puddle, you'd laughed until your sides hurt, and despite his original protests at you taking pleasure in his misfortune, he did eventually laugh with you, the two of you walking back to the vineyard together soaking wet and muddy – him more than you though.
Adam didn't know about your living situation, you'd made up some excuse about needing to be in the office that day to catch up on paperwork in order to distract yourself, and he bought it. You knew that excuse wouldn't fly for the next 15 months of this job though.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
It's almost lunch time when you get back into the office, fresh off of doing quality checks inside the winery, it's starting to take shape, all the rotting old features that couldn't be saved are gone, the ones that could be saved like the original wooden beams and stained glass windows only needed a touch up here and there.
Ground has broken on getting the main house and guest houses built on the far west side of the vineyard, foundations laid and steel supports in place, the view from what will be Adam's home overlooks a down slope hill with sprawling views of the valley and the same river where the two of you spoke that day, spanning the entire vista.
Something had been off with the crew though, tittering and whispers amongst the younger guys, the apprentices who'd only been on the job for a handful of months, you hate having to go 'boss mode', but when you found a group of them standing around doing fuck all for the thousandth time that day, laughing at some dumb video on one of their phones, you had to put your foot down and yell at them to get their asses back to work.
Despite the hiccup, your day was going well, the fresh cup of tea waiting for you on your desk was just the cherry on top, bringing a smile to your face that you didn't even mean to do.
Around 5 minutes into replying to emails to suppliers, you get a new email come through from an email you don't recognize with a subject line that simply states 'Adam Cromwell – An Everlasting impression'.
All internet awareness seemed to go out of the window, despite the little voice in the back of your head telling you not to, you opened the email, temptation winning that day.
So many links greeted you, ones to news articles about the 'Playboy heir to the Cromwell Hospitality Group', photos of him on the arm of different girls, most of them taken in the very same week, smearing headlines about him stumbling drunk out of clubs in the early hours.
Gossip articles published in the last couple of years about some shitty reality TV show he appeared on and all the scandals he was involved in on that too. Sexting a scorned ex-fiancée while on the show, being left at the alter on live TV.
Who the fuck was this man?!
Attached to the email was a video. One that you should definitely not watch, titled 'Adam and the hotter Middleton sister'.
You did though, much to your immediate regret you did click on the video, caught in some sort of downward spiral of curiosity that makes you wish you had better willpower.
As soon as you open the video, moans and groans play through the laptop speakers, grainy cellphone footage making you squint to so you can make out what exactly you're seeing.
A darkened bedroom lit up by one singular table lamp, and two writhing figures on the bed, a dark haired woman facing away from the camera in the lap of a man, being guided down by the hips as the man beneath her fucks up into her, making her airy cries of pleasure only get louder.
Please don't be him, please don't let this actually be him.
Face obscured, buried in the crook of her neck as he grips palmfuls of her ass, pulling her down harder onto his cock. You keep telling yourself it really could be anyone, you really should stop watching, convincing yourself that it's just a coincidence that the guys hair colour is similar.
And then he lifts his head, staring right at the camera with this shit eating grin and a hunger in his eyes that makes your stomach flip.
It's Adam.
You've never hit pause on a video so fast, his face frozen in that singular moment, as if he's staring at you right through the screen.
Staring blankly at the screen as you attempt to process the onslaught of information that you just received and the things you saw, sitting in pure shock and silence for the longest time before there's heavy rushing footsteps on the ground outside your office and the door swings open, Adam running inside wide eyed and in a panic.
Dragging a hand over his face, he rounds your desk towards you and you slam the laptop shut.
"Please God, tell me you didn't watch—"
He's too close, he's doing damage control, he's only here to save face.
"The video of you and allegedly Princess Kate's sister? Yeah I saw it."
Swiftly, you get up from your desk, needing that space between you and him, aimlessly wandering away from him, it's pointless though, following behind you like a puppy as he fumbles over explaining himself.
"Okay, first of all, it wasn't her, it was someone else, and before you say 'that doesn't make it any better', I know! I'm not trying to make it better, but I need just need to explain!"
A hand gently catches your wrist, stopping you in place, while another guides you by the shoulder to face him, meeting the desperate worrisome gaze that stands before you.
"You don't have to explain anything to me."
"Yes, I do, I had that tape released on purpose to protect someone else and I spun a lie or two in the process to ensure that their secret didn't get out!"
"I don't know why you even care what I think, Adam, I'm not judging you for having what sounds like a very active sex life, I just didn't know this was who you were."
The hand on your shoulder slips down your arm, gathering your free wrist in his hand to match the other. His touch should repulse you right now, given everything you read about him and his past, you shouldn't feel the prickle of goosebumps all over your body from his touch alone.
"Were. Past tense. I'm not him anymore, I did a lot of stupid things in my 20's, the girls, the booze, that bloody TV show. I regret a lot of it as it is and I never intended for you to find out about any of it like this. Please, just stop looking at me like that…"
It's only then that you realise just how deeply you're frowning, and that your jaw has been clenched this whole time.
"Well how else am I supposed to look at you? How do you want me to look at you?"
"I-I want you to look at me like you're not disappointed in me, as if I haven't had enough of that in my life. I know I'm a disappointment, to my family, to my exes, to the world. That's why I give a shit! I care about your opinion on me, I care about what you think of how I live my life, I care about…"
Don't say it. Don't say it. Do not say it.
"… I care about you." He said it.
Somewhere between those words leaving his mouth and your eyes softening, the space between you has lessened until the two of you are practically nose to nose, palms sliding up to the back of your biceps, tenderly holding you close.
Your pulse thrums, heart hammering in your chest so hard you're sure he can hear it, and you're sure you can hear his own.
Only once more does he repeat himself, whispering those same words, willing you to listen. "I care about you."
Adams lips miss their target, you'd moved at the last second, turning your head just a fraction, mere moments before they collide with your cheek. The warmth of his kiss stains your skin, permeating through you, blooming in your chest, unwanted and alarming.
In a flash, the moment is gone, tarnished by your rejection.
Adam's hands fall away from you, leaving you reeling with the loss of his touch. Now it's his turn to distance himself, stepping back just enough so you can finally hear yourself think.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No, you shouldn't have." You interuppt, cooly putting him in his place, even if you know that you wanted to kiss him too.
Adam looks completely crestfallen, shoulders slumped, eyes cast down to the floor. A shell of his usual confident self.
"Right. I uh… I think one of the younger lads on your crew might be behind this, if you wouldn't mind having a word, see if you can find out who it was? I know it's already public information, but I am trying to put my past behind me as much as possible."
When those glossy green eyes meet your own again, you're internally screaming at yourself for messing things up, he's a good guy, you want to give him a chance, but you're just too far gone to even think about letting yourself be happy, not to mention the nagging voice in the back of your mind that tells you he'd only hurt you anyway.
"Yeah, of course, I'll nip it in the bud. This wasn't okay. Just because you've already been made out to be some public 'playboy manwhore' doesn't mean I'll let this shit fly."
"I'm sorry? 'Playboy manwhore'? Is that really what you think of me?" Adam rears back, a glower marring his expression, making you regret ever opening your mouth.
Still, he's already upset with you, and you're sure you've fucked things up for good, why not bury the remains of whatever was here? The two of you would never work, you're from two different worlds.
"Well if the shoe fits, Adam. I'm just calling it like I see it. Daddy didn't love you enough so you buy your way through life instead, is that it?" The poisonous words spill from your mouth, you can't do a thing to stop them, even if you tried.
"You know what? Think what you want of me, so much for not judging me. Fuck you." He hisses back, anger turning to hurt and back to anger again, all in the blink of an eye.
The door slamming shut behind him echoes in your ears for hours after the altercation, along with your words on repeat and the words you'd left unspoken before you decided to self-sabotage, speaking them out loud to an empty room instead.
"I care about you too."
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If you read this far, please leave a comment and reblog, it would mean a lot to me — feedback welcome 💜
Adam Cromwell Taglist || From The Ground Up Masterlist || Chapter 3 & 4 - Palete Cleanser/Punch Drunk || Chapter 5 - Foundation Repair || Optional Epilogue - Full Bodied
