#in a year's time. i will be 28 years old. and the pieces will Finally be falling into place (hopefully!!!!!)

[orcelito]

Did driving practice today. Actually did parallel parking practice this time, even tho I really didn't want to still. Finally got it into my head that I can maybe do this.

SO......

I have scheduled my driving test. For November 13th, 3 weeks from today.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Route To Sin - Eddie Munson

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: eddie decides to go on a roadtrip with you to visit your sister in vegas, when you stop at a themed motel on the way, things quickly take a filthy turn.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: my first eddie munson fic!! i’ve loved this man for two years, i just finally decided to put it on paper lol, please let me know what y’all think!!

TW: dom!eddie, slight brat tamer!eddie, reader has a sister, drug use (weed), food mention, marriage talk, dacryphilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, bathtub sex, oral fixation, unprotected sex (don’t do this), creampie, cowgirl, mirror sex, degradation (brat, whore), porn mention, spanking mention, pet names (doll, babydoll, sweet girl, sweetheart, angel), hair pulling, fem + afab reader, reader gets slightly insecure at the end

Rating: R, 18+

——

A waft of earthy smoke billowed from the open driver’s side window, the familiar smell pulling Eddie’s attention back to the van. You knelt on the bench seat, body stretched across the expanse of the front cab to rest your folded arms against the edge of the window frame, silently watching your boyfriend pump gas. The last of the joint you’d been passing back and forth dangled limply between your pointer and middle finger, careful to avoid dropping the simmering butt and accidentally lighting the whole place up.

“If you keep blowin’ that roach shit my way I’m gonna leave you here.” That signature sarcasm rang heavy in his tone, canines peeking out from under his top lip with the smile he flashed at you.

He shut the fuel door, grabbing the roach out of your hand before snubbing it out against the heel of his boot and tossing it into the ashtray on top of the nearest trash can.

“I gotta go in to pay, do you want anything?” He fumbled with his wallet, pulling the wad of crumpled bills out of the worn leather.

“Get me a slice?” You asked, tilting your head toward the neon in the window that read ‘Pizza: Hot To Go’ in blinking red letters. He nodded, hitting a light jog into the convenience store, wallet chain slapping against his thigh with every step.

When you suggested a roadtrip to visit your sister in Nevada, you hadn’t fully taken into account how long you’d need to be in the van. Hawkins to Vegas wasn’t exactly a short trip, two thousand miles to be exact, and as much as you loved spending time with Eddie, the old, worn out seat of his van was starting to make your tailbone ache. Being 16 hours into a 28 hour drive had you feeling more stressed out than usual, you definitely needed to sleep in a real bed tonight if you hoped to get any relief before your big weekend in Sin City.

Eddie came bounding across the cracked pavement, pizza box in hand and you perked up, his goofy smile illuminated by the final sliver of dusk and the dingy glow of the old gas station sign above.

“I got a whole pie, Rick wasn’t fuckin around when he said that new stuff would make you feel like you’re starving.” He yanked open the door, the metal creaking loudly on its rusty hinge. You took the box from him, setting it on the bench between you as he hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, starting up the van to continue your journey.

“Eddie, can we stop at a motel tonight?” You asked, opening the box to lift a piece of pizza out, folding it down the center and bringing it to his face.

“M’not sure if there’s anything on the way, but we can stop if we see something, doll.” He turned his head, keeping his eyes on the road through his peripheral as he took a bite from the slice in your hand.

‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ by Metallica blared through the speakers either side of the van’s tape deck, vibrations from the heavy bass flowing through the vehicle and melding with the warm haze your high pulled over your mind, your body relaxing into the stained upholstery of the seat. You kicked your bare legs up onto the dashboard, white lacquered toenails pulling Eddie’s eyes off the road briefly. His gaze shifted down to your ankle, then your calf, then landing on your plush thigh, your soft skin peeking out from under your short pajama shorts.

“Eddie, there!” You pointed toward the sign glowing overhead through the dirty windshield, reading ‘Heart’s Desire Motel’ in faded letters atop a large metal heart. His attention was quickly pulled away from your soft skin, pulling the van off the highway and into the small parking lot. The place was quaint, baby pink paint peeling from the siding, with an old ‘vacancy’ sign blinking in the window of the front office. You pulled your sandals on and jumped out of the van, slipping Eddie’s jacket over your shoulders to shield your bare arms from the chill in the night air. Eddie followed quickly behind, catching up to you with ease as you reached the front door.

A small bell rang when you pulled open the office door, the only source of light in the small room being a desk lamp situated behind the front counter. You waited for a moment, hearing a ‘be right with you!’ called from an adjoining space.

“How can I help ya darlin?” A sweet older woman emerged from a back storage space, setting some paperwork down and taking her place behind the counter.

“Can we get a room for the night?” You asked cheerily, excited to finally lay down on something that wasn’t a blanket in the back of Eddie’s van. She smiled and nodded, flipping through the room log book, and you took the opportunity to glance at your surroundings. The walls were the same light pink as the exterior, with heart and cupid motifs scattered across them to really hone in on the theming. The kitchy aesthetic was endearing, a reminder of the bygone honeymoon resorts of the 60’s.

“All our double twin rooms are booked for the night so we only have single queen rooms available, is that alright?” She looked between you and Eddie, knowing her question may as well have been rhetorical.

“That’s actually preferred, it’s our wedding night.” Eddie lied to the woman, a shiteating grin stretched across his face when you turned back to him and shoved his shoulder.

“Well in that case I’ll put you up in our honeymoon suite! It’s not much different from our standard rooms, but there’s a heart shaped tub for you two lovebirds to enjoy.” Her face lit up with the sweetest smile and your heart melted, guilt sitting low in your chest knowing it was a lie. You didn’t have the heart to tell her or question why she’d believed it given the way the two of you were dressed, but you shrugged it off, just happy to be able to finally relax.

You took the key from her as Eddie handed her the cash to pay for the room, twirling it between your fingers, a red keychain etched with the same logo as the overhead sign on one side and the room number above a small heart on the other. Eddie shoved his wallet back into his pocket, his arm wrapping around your waist to usher you out of the main office, calling out a ‘thank you’ as you left.

“What the fuck was that?” You grabbed your bag from the back of the van, shooting him a death glare only to be met with that ridiculous smirk he so loved to taunt you with.

“What, you don’t wanna be my bride?” He faux pouted, dark waves falling in his face as you reached for his bag. You over-exaggeratedly rolled your eyes, starting to walk toward the room.

“Guess it’s the atmosphere of this place getting to me, babydoll.” He slammed the door of the van, jogging to catch up with you as you started putting the key in the door lock. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment from how that little nickname made your heart want to burst out of your chest, Eddie always knew exactly how to push your buttons in the best way and this was no exception.

The sight that greeted you beyond the door was like something out of a 70’s porno, wood paneled walls framing crimson velour window trimmings, a matching velvet comforter sprawled across the queen bed. Two poorly painted angels sat perched atop the heart shaped headboard, like prying eyes seeing every depraved act carried out on the altar below. Sure enough, at the far end of the suite was a heart shaped jacuzzi tub, tiled steps leading up and mirrors lining the walls of the corner it was tucked into.

You dropped your bag on top of the mahogany dresser across from the bed, and as you turned on your heel to shut the door behind Eddie, you couldn’t help but burst into a small fit of laughter at the cross hanging above the door frame. The idea that anything happening in this sex den was god-honoring was definitely scoff-worthy.

“What d'ya say we put that thing to use? My back is killing me and I bet those jets would feel killer.” Eddie’s fingertips dug firm indents into the flesh of your hip, a not-so-subtle indication of what his intentions were for the night.

“Whatever you want, daddy.” You winked, taking a step forward until his large hand gripped your forearm.

“What did you just call me?” He questioned, brow quirked in curiosity.

“It’s our wedding night, remember? Don’t you wanna start a family?” Your tone was playful but truthfully something about this place was stirring a feeling so raw inside of you that you weren’t kidding in the slightest.

“If you keep that up you won’t be able to walk in the morning.” Eddie released his grip, slapping your ass as you walked away to turn on the faucet for the tub.

“Won’t need to anyway, I’ll be sitting in your shitty van for 12 more hours.” You knew exactly how to push his buttons, and insulting any of his women (his guitar, his van, and you) was the quickest way to do so.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” He half-snapped at you, digging through his duffle bag in an ill-fated attempt to stop himself from watching the way you wiggled your ass while you bent over the side of the tub, watching the waterline rise.

“What are you gonna do, spank me?” You found yourself deliberately arching your back toward to accentuate the curve of your ass, hoping with every fiber of your being he’d stop what he was doing and manhandle you a little.

“Only if you don’t stop with the bratty attitude.” He glanced over at you and immediately dropped the shirt he was pretending to fold back into his bag, finally giving up on his resistance and approaching you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare thighs. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your pj shorts and underwear, roughly yanking them down to expose your ass.

“Gotta get you outta these if we’re gonna take that bath.” His tone had returned to that lighthearted sarcasm that you loved to hate, and you almost let yourself sink back against him. Instead, you stood upright again, taking the hem of his tattered Iron Maiden shirt in your grip and lifting it up his torso until he pulled it the rest of the way over his head.

Just as he reached to do the same to your tank top, you turned away and reached for the tap again, putting a stop to the stream of running water. He gripped your waist, pulling you back against him before pulling your tank over your head, leaving you fully naked.

“Get in.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver up your spine that had goosebumps rising over your skin. Maybe it was your residual high, or the lovesick atmosphere of your surroundings, but everything felt heightened, your skin more sensitive, his presence behind you more intimidating, his voice more intoxicating.

You ascended the short step and sunk into the bath, the water level rising to not quite cover your chest as you laid back into the left arch of the heart. Eddie watched your every move, eyes glued to your hips to drink in the way your form shifted with every step. He made quick work of removing his jeans, letting the stiff denim pool at his feet as he watched you settle in, your gaze drifting to the waistband of his plaid boxers. He pulled them down at an almost agonizing slow pace, exposing inch after inch of his semi-hard shaft to your waiting eyes until his cock sprung free, the sheer weight of him causing his length to slap against his upper thighs.

You absentmindedly pressed your thighs together, trying to dull the ache between them to no avail. You never truly got used to seeing him fully naked, blushing like a naive virgin every time you had the privilege of seeing him like this. The muscles of his thigh flexed as he took the step up to level with the lip of the tub, towering over you before sinking into the water beside you. He was an Adonis, all toned muscle under a tender layer of plush tissue that made for the perfect sleeping partner, strong and comforting all the same.

“Come here, doll.” He patted his thigh, the water swaying with the movement alongside the low hum of his voice. You rose to your knees, floating to the other side of the tub and straddling his lap, your core sitting dangerously close to his cock. His hands found your hips, calloused fingertips digging into your soft skin with a squeeze before gliding up your sides, his thumbs ghosting over the sides of your breasts almost teasingly while he admired the way water droplets dripped down over your nipples.

“Always so gorgeous.” He groaned, strong hands finally encompassing your breasts, kneading tender flesh as his rough palms gave your stiff peaks the friction they desperately craved.

His touch lit a fire within you, and as much as the way that he looked at you with such admiration made your heart melt, your need was becoming more and more unbearable by the second. You shifted forward, rubbing your folds over the length of his shaft with a hunger, desperate for stimulation.

Before you knew it he had dropped his grip from your chest, threading a hand into your hair to yank your head softly back, drawing a gasp from your throat.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrow. He couldn’t help his sarcastic nature, it just came so naturally to him, and knowing that he had such an immense effect on you gave him the ego boost of the century. You shook your head as much as you could given the grip he held on your tresses, and choked out a soft ‘no’ in response before clearing your throat.

“I-I think I deserve some relief after being in the van all day.” You tried to put up a fight, not quite done riling him up, but your tone was quickly losing all conviction and Eddie could see you slipping further into desperation.

“You don’t deserve anything, you’ve been a pampered little passenger princess for 16 hours while I’ve done all of the work to get us here.” He yanked your hair back even further, craning your neck to look up at the baby pink popcorn ceiling. The sting in your scalp brought tears to your eyes, the liquid breaching your waterline leaving dark mascara trails down your cheeks in its wake.

“You’re being awfully bratty, doll, where’d my sweet girl go?” He cooed, free hand cupping your cheek as he loosened his grip ever so slightly to allow you to look at him.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I’m just so sore.” You sniffled, tears still falling from the shame the disappointment in his tone made you feel.

“Don’t cry baby, just need you to listen, okay?” He dropped his grip on your hair, both hands cupping your face, looking lovingly into your glazed eyes. You could feel his cock growing beneath you, the sight of dark makeup running down your tear stained face serving as the perfect aphrodisiac. He adored seeing you all messy like this, his perfect angel looking like a filthy whore, only for his eyes to see.

“Think we can both get some relief tonight if you’re good, can you be good for me?” You frantically nodded your head. “Yes, I promise!” Your enthusiasm made him laugh low in the back of his throat, that goofy smile returning to his face.

“Need you to use your words and tell me what you want, can you do that?” His tone held sickly sweet condescension and you could feel yourself slipping into that mind numbing headspace, wishing he could just slip into your mind for a moment and see all the dirty things you wanted him to do to you.

“Need you inside, please.” Your words came out barely above a whisper and he knew he wouldn’t get too much more out of you before you devolved into a mewling mess, too lost in your own mind to articulate your thoughts, but he couldn’t help but play with you a little longer.

“Inside where, sweetheart? Here?” He mused, bringing his free hand to your mouth, pointer and middle fingers prodding at your parted lips. You quickly took them in, sucking softly on his digits as you shook your head no, oral fixation too strong to pass up the opportunity to have any part of him in your mouth.

“If that’s not what you want then you need to tell me, don’t be greedy.” He pulled his fingers from your lips with a pop, his tone falling an octave. Your eyes widened, nodding in acknowledgment, willing to do anything to please him at this point.

“I-I need you down here, please.” You took his wrist in your shaky hand, guiding him down to dip into the warm water, lifting your hips slightly so his hand could fit in the tight space between your bodies, pressing his fingertips to the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. You stopped, releasing his wrist, not wanting to break any unknown rule and let him take the reins from there. He brought the heel of his palm up to rut firmly against your clit, drawing quiet whimpers as you did your best to stay still.

“What do you want here, doll? My fingers, or something else?” He teased, dipping two of his fingers inside only up to the first knuckle, the slight stimulation almost torturous as he scissored his fingers inside, stretching open the first inch of your cunt.

“God, something else, please.” You sighed, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“What then?” He stopped his movements, withdrawing his hand and you groaned from the lack of friction.

“Your cock, Eddie, please just let me ride you.” You swore you were trying to be good, but you were starting to feel like you’d lose your mind if you didn’t get the stimulation you were in desperate need of and you didn’t care how impatient you sounded.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He laughed, his hands gripping your hips to guide you up just enough for his cock to stand upright in the water, the tip bumping against your weeping cunt. “Whenever you’re ready, babydoll. You want it so bad, you’re gonna do the work.”

You took his hint, bringing your hand beneath you to grip his member, finally sinking slowly down onto him until you could feel him in your stomach, the all too anticipated stretch making you cry out in relief after his teasing. He groaned, running a hand through his curls as he settled back against the edge of the tub, watching you start to slowly grind your hips, just feeling how full he made you feel.

After a few minutes you lifted your hips once more, starting a steady pace bouncing on his lap, the head of his cock rubbing against the tender patch of nerves deep inside your cunt, velvety walls engulfing him with every movement. The water surrounding you started to roll like waves, splashing against the sides of the tub, threatening to spill out onto the tile surrounding it. You took notice, slowly your movements to lessen the potential mess, and Eddie sighed.

“We’ll clean it up later baby, just let go.” He reassured you, secretly just as desperate as you were to get off. He didn’t care about a little clean up, let alone wiping some water off the floor.

You were hesitant but returned to your previous pace, angling your hips back to really allow his cock to hit the sensitive place inside you, euphoria slowly building in your core. Your gaze slowly shifted from his face and when you caught the sight of yourself in the mirrors surrounding the tub you gasped, the lewd image of your makeup stained face and your tits bouncing with every movement of your hips was something almost pornographic, really living up to the atmosphere of the room.

Eddie caught where your eyes had shifted to and groaned, throwing his head back to properly watch you get off to your own reflection.

“Look at yourself, bouncing on my cock like a desperate whore, making such a mess.” His hand came down to press against your lower stomach, his thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit until you were a moaning mess, your thighs burning with the almost brutal pace you were now maintaining.

“Want you to make me a daddy.” He moaned, his breaths becoming more labored. His statement broke you from your trance, your gaze falling back to his as you searched his eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but you found none, he wasn’t kidding.

“Can I knock you up, babydoll?” He reiterated the sentiment, increasing the pressure on your clit and feeling you pulse around him, your orgasm dangerously close.

“I need an answer before you or I can cum sweetheart.” He was panting, straining to prevent himself from finishing, and you did everything you could to pull yourself together enough to answer.

“Yes, Eddie, please!” You maimed, tears threatening your waterline from how close you were to the edge.

“Say it.” He groaned, locking eyes with you one last time.

“Please cum inside me daddy, please!” You cried out, tipping over the edge with one last slam of your hips, pleasure rolling over you in tandem with the waves of the water around you, your walls contracting over and over around him until his warmth spread throughout your cunt. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly against you until the aftershocks stopped wracking your body, relaxing on his lap.

“You okay angel?” His voice was strained but sweet as ever, always concerned about your wellbeing above anything else.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, smiling silently against his neck.

Once you were fully recovered, you raised off of him, both of you wincing at the loss momentarily before sinking under the now lukewarm water for one final rinse. You began to step out, Eddie right behind you to grab your waist when your foot almost slipped out from under you because of the slick tile.

“Careful babydoll, don’t want you to slip.” He held you firm as you stepped down, making sure you were safe on the ground level before following you out, handing you one of the fresh towels from the pile next to the tub. He wiped up the excess water off the ground as you dried yourself off, and you didn’t know if it was the cold air or the rational part of your brain turning back on, but something started to eat at you as you watched your boyfriend dry himself off.

“Is it okay that I called you that?” The worry in your voice almost made Eddie’s heart break into a million pieces, and he quickly wrapped the towel around his hips before taking you into his arms.

“I loved it, babydoll, I promise I would tell you if I didn’t.” He smoothed your hair away from your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“How about we put on our pajamas and turn on a movie.” He smiled down at you, waiting for your approving nod before going to your bags on the dresser and pulling out your second pair of pj’s. He helped you into them before pulling on his own old band shirt and fresh boxers and crawling into the gaudy bed with you, cuddling up to watch whatever cheesy horror flick was airing on late night tv.

——

tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @your-nightmaredoll

also tagging: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @littlexdeaths @eddiesxangel @bimbotrashcan bc i thought you might be interested, please message me if you’d like me to remove you

please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future eddie fics!!

[chaotic-archaeologist]

https://nypost.com/2024/08/28/world-news/boy-4-accidentally-smashes-bronze-age-jar-that-was-at-least-3500-years-old/

Your thoughts?

Personally, I'm kinda sick of museums being required to cater to kids so much. If you're going to do this open air exhibit, kids who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves just shouldn't be allowed in. The glass is there for this very reason.

Actually, I'm with the museum on this one. Is it unfortunate that the vase was broken? Yes. Was the vase a valuable piece of the past? Also yes. But I think the museum did something very cool by not having the artifacts behind glass and are handling this with good grace and the sense to make this a learning opportunity.

Sometimes we overlook the fact that museums often attempt to arrest or freeze artifacts in time. They are kept in controlled conditions to prevent them from deteriorating and even treated to reverse damage. Many things on display on museums are elevated beyond their original value, alienated from their original purpose, and closed off from interaction.

It's incredible that this jar survived as long as it did—and its age is what makes it special—but at the end of the day, it is still a jar. It has now experienced the thing that happens to pretty much every jar that has been or will be. After all, decay is an extant form of life. (If you want to read a very well written and interesting take on decay and archaeology, check out this article by Caitlin DeSilvey.)

The article I linked above provides some important context and the update that the museum is planning on using this as an opportunity to teach about the conservation process. The jar's story is not over; it is being pieced back together and in this next chapter in its life it will be able to tell two stories: one of its life and the other of its rebirth. The museum's approach embraces that, exactly like the Japanese art of Kintsugi.

I also agree with the museum's decision not to punish the child or his family. Things go wrong in museums all the time despite their highly controlled environments, and this is why they have artifacts insured. Sometimes the thing that happens is a child, and by and large museums do not seek damages.

I would encourage you to rethink your stance on museums and children. Museums are for everyone. Children have a right to experience museums and what they have to offer just like anyone else. There are also many studies that discuss how going to museums benefits children.

In this case, perhaps the exhibit design was slightly flawed, but the four year old boy accidentally knocked the jar over because he was curious about what was inside and wanted to investigate. Curiosity is exactly what museums should be encouraging. In an ideal world that curiosity would have been channeled into some other kind of engagement, but the folks who work in museums have a lot on their plates and cannot plan everything perfectly all the time. Even if they could, they often do not have the resources to do so.

Finally, the AP article mentions that the boy and his family were visiting the museum to get away from Hezbollah rocket fire. Regardless of your opinions on the current conflict, everyone deserves to have a safe place to exist. That museums can serve as those spaces is an honor.

I commend the Hecht Museum and the people working there. They 1) successfully provided a place of learning and refuge, 2) opted not for a punitive approach—which is often the default Western model for justice—but a compassionate one, and 3) are using this twist of fate to create programming that will further engage the public.

@museeeuuuum and @museum-spaces would you care to comment?

-Reid

[lecsainz]

main thing

request: charles + a famous actress who is about 2 years older than charles and has a daughter from another relationship, but the biological father is not in the picture (or he is an idiot)

pairings: charles leclerc x actress!reader

authors note: man, it took me almost two days to write this, ugh! hate getting that writer's block in the middle of something I start. I was like, "come on brain, why you gotta do me like that?" but nah, it wouldn't cooperate. so frustrating!

✩. . . masterlist !

PART TWO

Age Gap Romance Takes a Dark Turn, Leaving Y/N Struggling with Broken Heart and Baby Daughter

By TMZ Entertainment News

Hollywood's buzzing with the latest shocking breakup, and this time it involves rising starlet Y/N Y/L/N and her much older ex-boyfriend, a prominent music mogul. As the dust settles, insiders reveal that the split was anything but amicable, leaving the 28-year-old actress devastated and facing heartache alone with their baby daughter, Sophie.

Sources close to the couple paint a picture of a once fairy-tale romance that crumbled under the weight of immense pressures and a significant age gap. Y/N and her ex, whose name we won't disclose for legal reasons, initially captured the public's attention with their whirlwind love affair.

Despite the initial bliss, the relationship quickly took a tumultuous turn, with the insider sharing, "It was a rollercoaster from the beginning. The age difference played a big role in their clashes, but Y/N was deeply in love and believed they could make it work."

However, cracks in their love story started to show, and rumors of disagreements and heated arguments circulated throughout Tinseltown. Our sources indicate that the final straw came when the music mogul reportedly abandoned Y/N and their infant daughter, Sophie, leaving her shattered and blindsided.

"It was like he flipped a switch," another insider revealed. "He just walked away, leaving Y/N and Sophie to pick up the pieces. It was a shock to everyone, even those closest to them."

The breakup was described as "dramatic and emotional," with Y/N left grappling with the aftermath of his sudden departure while caring for her baby daughter. Friends of the actress confirm that she's going through an incredibly tough time, trying to navigate single motherhood while nursing a broken heart.

"It's heartbreaking to see Y/N going through this," said one close friend. "She's a strong woman, but this has taken a toll on her. Sophie is her world, and she's solely focused on being the best mom she can be for her daughter."

As for the music mogul's actions, sources claim that he has shown little remorse for the way things ended. "He's been dismissive and unapologetic," one industry insider revealed. "It's like he's moved on without a second thought, leaving Y/N to pick up the pieces."

For now, Y/N is surrounding herself with a support system of friends and family, relying on their love and encouragement during this challenging time. Hollywood is buzzing with the news of the breakup, and fans around the world are sending messages of love and strength to the young actress.

As this Hollywood drama unfolds, the world will be watching to see how Y/N navigates her way through heartbreak and single motherhood. We'll continue to bring you the latest updates on this gripping story, so stay tuned for more.

ynupdates

liked by charlesleclerc , selenagomez , and 28.879 others

ynupdates sun, sand, and summer vibes with yourinstagram and the girls! beach day in monaco is lit! no room for negativity here – just good times, laughter, and making memories with our faves y/n and selenagomez! and of course, little sophie is the cutest beach babe ever!

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selenagomez ❤️❤️❤️

f1addiction CHARLES WHAT YOU DOING HERE??

ynmoves my girl looks so happy 😁

ylngomez i LOVE this friendship

lecslerccc charles that’s is a move?

saaaainz he just liked is nothing to worry 😭

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Calling Your Name - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: This one’s very sad, and very horny. I’m pregaming for Chapter 21. Title from I Don't Want to Live Forever by Taylor Swift and Zayn Malik.

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary/Warnings: Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. Usual warnings, with extra emphasis on smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, angst, smut

The last birthday Ben had celebrated was his 68th. Big fucking party, with lions and champagne, where women who Ben couldn’t remember the names of had thrown themselves at him, and men he’d never met in his life had congratulated him on turing 27.

It had been his eighteenth 27th birthday party. In another twelve years, he'd be 28. 

The event had cost a small fortune. Likely the GDP of one of those tiny fucking European countries that had been forming as the Soviet Union fell apart. Vought had rented him a castle—Ben hadn’t even known America had castles—and flown thousands of people Ben didn’t like out to celebrate.

Today he was 106, and alone in a haunted apartment as Her voice in his head called him old.

Did you take your meds this morning, grandpa?

No. Mallory still won’t just fucking give me drugs.

He could picture Her teasing pout. Woe is you, Pretty Boy. 106 and nobody to buy you cocaine.

He sighed into the empty room, and a small part of him still hoped she’d just appear. She’d walk out of the bedroom door or in from the hall, and she'd throw herself into Ben’s arms. She'd call him a grumpy cunt, and he’d get to kiss Her until she moaned and pleaded, and tell her he loved her. Maybe she’d get on her knees, or let Ben fuck her right here on the sofa. She’d smile at him. She taunt him and ask if Social Security had an expiration date, but she’d be smiling at Ben the whole time so he’d just scoff and let her.

She hadn’t told Ben her own birthday. He’d asked, once, all the way back in the safe housem, and She’d laughed. Told him she stopped celebrating her birthday when Homelander kidnapped her. 

“It loses the magic, Pretty Boy.” Her voice had been amused and bored, but there had been something hollow in Her eyes. “Being legally dead makes birthdays seem kind of pointless.”

He’d dropped it then. Now he wished he hadn’t. Ben wanted to know so that he could be a pain in everyone’s ass about it. He’d make them throw a party, and someone would provide a cake—homemade, chocolate, with a disgusting amount of frosting and ice cream just in case She hated cake—and everyone would sing that stupid birthday song in a voice worse than Hers until She felt loved. 

He’d make sure she felt loved. Ben would buy her a gift—he wasn’t sure what, but he’d figure it out—and it would make her feel seen. Then he’d stand silently behind Her while everyone celebrated how fucking perfect she was, and cut the cake so he could make sure she got the largest piece. 

Then he’d fuck Her. He’d carry her home, into this same apartment, and up the stairs into the bed so he could fuck Her. Romantically. If Ben got to do this, it would have to be romantic. In this perfect world he was creating for himself, they’d been fucking for a while now and he’d already told Her he loved her, so he’d know all the things she likes in bed, and which of them made Her come apart the fastest. Ben would be able to use that knowledge to throughly wreck Her—turn her into a sweaty, moaning work of art below him—and remind her that he loved Her the whole time.

That was what he wanted for his birthday. Her, home, in Ben’s arms so he could fuck her and tell her he loved her. So he could get some proper fucking rest tonight, and wake up with Her at his side. So everything could finally be good again.

He didn’t have a cake. He hadn’t told anyone it was his birthday, because it didn’t really fucking feel important. They had work to do, and no one on the team was going to jump out of their chair to celebrate one of Ben’s infinite birthdays. So he grabbed a candle from the cabinet—Balsam and Cedar, Her surprisingly aggressive purchase—went to light it, and realized they didn’t actually own a lighter. She was a walking lighter, so neither of them had bothered to purchase one.

It was almost midnight. This dogshit fucking day—where he’d eaten dinner with the team and combed through Vought records and tried not to think about how She was here, wasn’t home—had been the same as yesterday. Would be the same as tomorrow. All the days would be the fucking same, numb, thoughtless shit until She was home.

She’d tell Ben her birthday when she got home. He’d figure out a way to get Her to tell him. He wouldn’t be able to trick it out of her the way she was always somehow getting Ben to say what she wanted him to. If he asked, she’d ignore him or tell him to shut the fuck up.

He could fuck it out of Her. That was the only field between them where Ben seemed to have the slightest advantage. She wasn’t as fucking excellent at hiding how much she wanted Ben as he was at hiding how much he wanted Her. But he had months of practice. Weeks and weeks in the safe house of fucking his hand to the thought of Her without her catching on. And every time Ben had touched her she’d whimpered his name and fallen apart and fucking begged, so that’s how he’d figure out Her birthday. He’d make her cum on his face once—just because he wanted to—then he’d fuck Her into the mattress until Her perfect, insane, brilliant fucking brain was empty and she was molding into Ben’s body.

He’d lean down, lips against Her ears, and hiss the question.

“When’s your birthday.”

She wouldn’t answer immediately. She’d just moan and stare at him with lust-blown, pretty eyes. So Ben would pull all the way out of Her until she whined, and slam back in hard enough to break the bed before asking again.

“Tell me your birthday, beautiful, or you don’t get to fucking cum.”

It would be a bluff. She was a goddamn force of nature when she came, and Ben wasn’t strong enough to deprive himself of watching Her lips part and head throw back, feel Her back arch off the bed and her cunt squeeze around his cock like it had before on his fingers, hear Her scream his name. Maybe She’d squirt. Ben had felt how fucking wet she could get, maybe if he fucked her right, She’d squirt.

And She’d call the bluff. Even in the haze of Ben’s  body over hers, between moans and begs, she’d call him on his shit.

“Fuck,” she whimpered when he repeated that same move again. “Fuck you, Ben-“

“Birthday.”

It would take a while, likely several minutes of that exact dance, but he’d get it. Ben would lean down to Her mouth and kiss Her, sloppy and deep, fucking her faster, and tell Her he loved her. 

Then She'd tell him, and cum.

This was a foolproof fucking plan. Ben was a goddamn genius.

Maybe I don’t have a birthday, Benjamin. Have you considered that?

Everyone has a fucking birthday.

Well, what’s yours?

Ben frowned into the air. She was a figment of his imagination, she should know his birthday. Today.

Oh. The room was silent for a second. I forgot, I guess. Sorry. 

Don’t apologize. If you want to do something for me, come home.

It wasn’t really worth saying. This wasn’t Her, and even if it said, of course, Pretty Boy. For your birthday. The real her would still be across the river at Vought tower. And Ben had to be okay with that.

I want to. You know I want to, but I can’t. I miss you and love you, Ben, more than anything, but I can’t come home.

He sighed. I miss you and love you too.

Stop saying that-

Shut the fuck up. If you’re allowed to say you love me, I can say it back.

But-

No. It’s my birthday, no telling me I can’t say that I love you on my birthday.

Silence, then okay. For your birthday. Old man.

I love you, brat.

I love you too, Benjamin. Happy birthday.

End Note: I made Ben a Taurus, and I stand by that.

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Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA For telling my partner I'd like to bring my ex into our relationship?

I'm copying this over from r/relationship_advice, because the responses are giving me the impression they don't really get what polyamory is & I'm hoping tumblr does. For reference: there's me (29M), my ex (28, Trans Man), and my partner (30M).

My ex and I were best friends in high school, went to the same college, & dated through the tail end of undergrad, for about a year and change. We ended things on very good terms, the only reason we broke up was a difference in life paths: I stayed in the city to get my Master's, he traveled constantly for his work (he's a sculptor who makes these huge custom multimedia pieces, they're genuinely some of the most beautiful things I've seen). We fell out of touch for the most part, but I'd see him popping up on social media occasionally, or he'd text me when he was in town and we'd hang out, along with some other school friends.

The last time I saw him before our present situation was about 3 1/2 years ago today. We went out for drinks, he came back to my place after, and we ended up hooking up. He stayed in town for about a week, and we hooked up a few more times, and then he left again. He sort of dropped off the face of the earth after that, but he'd always been pretty sporadic, especially when he had a big project, so I didn't think much about it.

Not long after that, I met my current partner. He's truly one of my favorite people in the whole world; he's incredibly thoughtful, and earnest, and passionate about his morals & principles (he's an environmental lawyer), and more than anything, he's someone I never feel like I have to pretend with. He asked for my number, we had our first date a few days later, and ended up staying awake the entire night just talking about anything and everything, so we went ahead and got 5am pancakes and called it our second date. We've been together for a little over 3 years now, we've been moved in together for about 2, and while we've had the occasional fight or rough patch I can definitely say I love this man, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with him.

So, the big change.

About a year ago (~2 years since seeing my ex, my partner and I have lived together for about a year at this point), my partner and I are having a night in, and there's a knock at the door. It's my ex, looking absolutely ragged, holding a 15 month old baby. As in, a baby who was conceived 24 months before then. Yep, it's pretty much what you're guessing. I let them both in, we had a sit down in the kitchen, and he told me everything he'd been doing in the past 2 years in between me cussing him out for keeping it all from me in the first place. I really do want to keep this as short as possible, so to give you the super condensed version:

She's my daughter, he's completely sure about that, there's no one else he's been with the math is even close to correct for

The second he found out he was pregnant, he more or less panicked. He's got a whole Thing about feeling like he's irresponsible/not a "real" adult, and this really set him off, so telling me felt like "admitting to fucking both our lives up" at the time. His OB/GYN said some pretty awful shit to him about not being more careful as a trans man too, which just made it all even worse

Because of all that, he'd genuinely planned to just never tell me I have a daughter & raise her completely on his own, but a few things compounded to force his hand:

The birth was really rough on him, and his recovery was slow enough he was having trouble going back to work, to the point where money was getting tight

On top of that, our daughter has celiac disease, and between paying out of pocket for blood tests & spending more on baby food she's safe to eat, things got desperate enough he went and took out a really dodgy loan from a scummy payday company

He was at our door because all of this had finally spiraled to a point where he'd lost his apartment, they'd been sleeping in his car for about a week, and he couldn't think of anything else to do

I think I was probably feeling every human emotion in existence at the same time through all of this, but the thing I remember most from the whole conversation was the way my partner kept drifting right back to the baby, and the soft way he looked at her. We put my ex & daughter up in a hotel room for the night and told him we needed to talk, and we'd discuss our options in the morning, but I think even then I kind of knew what our answer was going to be.

Sure enough, for the last year and a half we've been co-parenting our little girl, all three of us. We didn't want to juggle who's got her, or force my ex to find a place to stay, so we've turned my partner's home office into our daughter's room, and redid most of the downstairs layout so my ex could move into an actual bedroom, rather than just sleep on our pullout couch in perpetuity. We finally succeeded in convincing him that rest and recovery was more important than trying to contribute to the house finances right away, and it's been magical watching all that stress and terror slowly fall off him. It's like he's a little more alive again every time I look.

Which is where my question comes in.

I'd like to restate, I love my partner 100%. None of this changes that whatsoever. If I ask, and he says no, that will be the end of the discussion for me completely. But I have eyes. My ex is, objectively, a very attractive man. I know we work well together, and I have to admit I'm very curious to see where that same chemistry could lead now that he's not on the other side of the country half the time. I've also been noticing these little moments between him and my partner. Nothing I'd consider crossing a line, but I've caught my partner checking my ex out several times, as well as vice versa, and they get along remarkably well. Sometimes I'll go to enter a room, and see them both sitting there laughing and chatting and playing with our baby, and I'll just hang back to watch because it makes me so happy.

Add to all that, we're pretty deeply ingrained in each other's lives now. My partner and I don't often go out on dates alone anymore, but the last few times we did it felt as if my ex was missing from the table. We watched a movie together last night, and my ex sat in the middle of us with his feet in my partner's lap and his head on my chest, and it felt just as natural as my arm on my partner's shoulder. It's not about just having sex with him, and it's not that I'd want to invite any old person into our relationship. I know we already all love each other, and I think there's potential for that to become romantic between the two of us and my ex.

It just feels as though we're all holding our breath, waiting for someone else to say it first. My ex certainly isn't going to bring it up when he's living rent free in "our" home (it's his home too, but he doesn't seem to see it like that yet). My partner grew up sheltered enough that I'm not sure he's ever heard of polyamory at all, so he's not going to bring it up. That just leaves me.

My problem is, if I'm wrong about what I think I'm seeing, or if I bring it up the wrong way, I can't take it back. I don't want my partner to feel insecure or betrayed, I don't want my ex to feel pressured or put on the spot, and I definitely don't want my daughter to lose any of us, which I know could happen if we aren't all on the same page. Or worse, if we do all date and it goes badly.

Should I just keep this whole thing secret? Is that even worse? Would I be the asshole for opening this can of worms on everyone else?

Help!

[robins-egg-bindery]

Windows by @drgrlfriend

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking.

fic by @drgrlfriend

art by @maichan808 & @andavs-main

368 pages / 83,266 words

Title Font: PP Hatton

Body Fonts: Cardo, Geo

HAPPY FFWAD!!! Thank you @renegadepublishing for putting on this event in celebration!

More on the process below the cut!

I'm so excited to be posting this book! Super grateful @drgrlfriend was so down to let me bind Windows for Fan Fiction Writer Appreciation Day. This is one of my all-time favs, and I was thrilled to give it the treatment it deserves! @maichan808 & @andavs-main were also incredibly kind to allow me to include their stunning art pieces in the book <3 And thank you @renegadepublishing for putting this event together!

I wanted the typeset to be visually interesting and move around the page, without making it difficult to read. I created unique headers for each of the 28 chapters with royalty free art, and varied placement on the page in six different configurations. I also played with the text warp to make the text work as part of the image - one of my favorites is chapter 26, "Banshee", pictured above!

I used Brick duo for this bind, as part of the vision for the front cover, which was done in silver permanent vinyl. I think the rich rust color is perfect for how I would imagine Stiles & Derek's apartment building, and the silver is incredibly reflective - my favorite part is how the vinyl catches the light on the spine, and can reflect "Windows" on whatever surface it's on (pictured above). That's not an added effect, it's just doing that!

I did @tankbredgrunt's faux double-core headband with some Sulky Gutermann I bought at a secondhand store for $0.25, and it's so pretty! A bit thin to work with, but totally worth it for the multi-color effect it gives off.

And I finally got a proper crisp hinge! I think it really brings the whole book together, thank you knitting needles (even though you were a pain in the ass).

This project also marks my 100th book! I'm rapidly approaching the two year mark of my fanbinding career with no sign of stopping; thank you to this entire community, and all of the fandoms I've been able to bring this hobby to. I love how cross-fandom it is; and for an old floater like me, it's wonderful to bring all of my interests together and have something that transcends those lines.

HAPPY FAN FICTION WRITER APPRECIATION DAY!

[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 28 Soonyoung — marking // car sex

➥ boyfriend!Soonyoung x privileged upbringing!Reader summary: Soonyoung has had to warn you more than once not to tease him while he was driving but sometimes you just didn't want to listen. wc: 3.9k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship, alcohol consumption (reader), reader has a rich family & had a privileged upbringing (lol can’t relate), sexual content (minors dni!): car sex (sex on the hood of a car to be precise), unprotected sex (use protection!!), a lot of dirty talk, pet names (mainly baby), degradation (he calls her a whore and a slut a few times) at first Soonyoung’s kinda mean but then he gets very whiny aka he’s extremely vocal, marking (neck, shoulder, chest). If there are any I missed let me know! Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie @hoeforcheol @kirooz @yeosayang @katsukis1wife Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Taglist closed!

a/n: I’ve been meaning to write Soonyoung car sex for a while so this is the perfect opportunity. Thank you all so much for reading all the Kinkuary pieces! It’s been a wild ride this entire month and I want to thank everyone who showed each piece love! I hope you liked reading these as much as I loved writing them! I will be doing Kinktober this year but each piece will be supernatural themed. As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms. This is dedicated to @ncteez cause she loves Hoshi and I love her. ilysm my honeypot 🍯 I hope you like it. And if you haven't read any of hon's works, 1.) Where have you been??? And 2.) Go show her some love ❤️

════════════════════════════════

"How many times have I told you?" Soonyoung growled, his hand making contact with your ass for the fifth time. You let out a whimper, fingers digging into the fabric of the seat.

"How many times have I told you? Don't tease me while I'm driving!"

It had started as dinner at your parents', driving from your hotel to your parents’ home in the countryside of your hometown. They offered to let the two of you stay in the guest rooms but when you told your boyfriend that you’d have to sleep in separate rooms, he declined the offer.

If he had to go from sleeping next to you in your shared apartment back in Seoul, there was no way he wasn’t going to sleep next to you while visiting your hometown. “That’s just cruel,” he’d pouted.

You thanked your parents but told them that Soonyoung had already booked your stay in a nice hotel.

The flight to your hometown was uneventful except for the fact that Soonyoung awoke abruptly screaming when the plane hit a tiny bit of turbulance. He apologized profusely to the attendants and the people sitting around you.

The drive to your hotel was also uneventful, you taking over the driving as you knew the city better than Soonyoung did. Upon reaching your hotel, the two of you got checked in and passed out, sleeping for the rest of the day and well into the early morning.

Soonyoung had woken you up with his snores at 5 am on the dot, prompting you to smack him with your pillow before finally getting up and taking a shower, knowing you’d never be able to get back to sleep with his snoring.

That first day was spent showing Soonyoung all the places you used to go when you were younger, showing him your old schools as well as the places you used to hang out with your friends at night when you all snuck out to meet up.

It was foreign but also familiar to him as you explained the importance of each place to you and your friends’ younger selves. He had places like this back in Namyangju. Place he and his friends would go to just be themselves.

It allowed him a glimpse into your past and he was so grateful he’d argued the time off to come here with you.

The following morning was spent in bed, as you spent most of your mornings off together, exploring each others’ bodies like it was the first time though it was long past that.

You’d be spending most of the day at your parents’ house so you needed to get your urges out before then. That was the plan anyway.

But even the best laid plans go awry at times.

For you, it started when Soonyoung exited the bathroom in only a towel, having just showered. You were halfway through your makeup routine when he started to apply his skincare and your eyes wandered.

He’d been spending a lot more time in the gym lately and you obviously noticed how he’d filled out in the time you began dating.

Soonyoung caught you staring more than once and joked that if you kept looking at him with ‘bedroom eyes’ he was going to pounce on you.

Not that you’d be complaining but you had to leave soon if you wanted to arrive on time to your parents’ house.

The entire drive there, Soonyoung kept fiddling with his fingers, shifting in his seat nervously as he asked question after question about your parents.

You reassured him that his English was more than enough to communicate with them and that you had no problem translating if needed. You wanted him to meet your family because Soonyoung was just that important to you.

You almost laughed at the way his eyes widened as you pulled off the freeway and onto a smaller one lane highway. He asked if they lived in the middle of nowhere and if you were actually taking him to your family home.

“You could be taking me to be a sacrificial lamb and I’d never know.”

As you pulled onto the gravel road your parents’ home was on, Soonyoung was almost bouncing in his seat, watching the houses go by, separated by miles and growing in size.

Finally, you slowed down and pulled onto the driveway leading to your parents’ house. You could tell they’d recently replaced the driveway as it was no longer cracked. The drive wound through the wooded lot until you pulled up to the circle drive that passed the front door.

You remembered this house from your childhood but it wasn’t your parents’ back then. It was your grandparents’ house.

You recognized your parents’ cars at the detached garage but there were a few other cars parked out front you didn’t know. One of them might have been your sister’s or her husband’s, but you weren’t entirely sure. It was a different car from last time you visited.

The other cars could only belong to other family members but you didn’t remember which car belonged to who.

You cut the engine and got out, Soonyoung following suit as the front door opened. You turned to your boyfriend to warn him to brace himself. He was about to be smothered.

As you led the way to the front door where you mother and father stood, your boyfriend was suddenly engulfed by a small crowd of children that had come out of seemingly nowhere.

Your little cousins and you also recognized your nieces and nephews among the crowd. Soonyoung looked like he was being eaten alive by piranhas and you couldn’t help but laugh before waving and shooing the children away.

You took his hand and pulled him to the front door, only letting go as your parents’ pulled you into a hug before their attention turned to your boyfriend standing on the stoop. “This is Soonyoung, my boyfriend,” you introduced.

That simple introduction was all that was needed. Your parents pulled Soonyoung into the house as you greeted the rest of your family.

What you expected to be a simple dinner with your immediate family had turned into a small reunion of sorts. Aunts and uncles, cousins you hadn’t seen in years were all there and very curious about the man you’d brought home.

You knew you were in for a long day.

Any reservations you had about Soonyoung getting along or fitting in with your family went out the window as he settled in. He managed to converse smoothly with anyone who came up to speak to him.

Your aunts loved him, your uncles seemed to approve, but your cousins were something else. The little ones had comandeered him into playing with them and suddenly your boyfriend found himself playing hide and seek with about twenty children.

The actual dinner was nice. Your mother and aunts had gone all out, making almost every dish that was special to your family. It was almost like a banquet. There was so much food to choose from and it was all delicious.

Every time either you or Soonyoung finished eating, more magically appeared on your plate. Soonyoung complained only to you about how hard he’d have to train to work off all the pounds he no doubt just gained but he loved all of it.

You were about halfway into dessert when you just couldn’t stop looking at Soonyoung. He’d chosen a black silky long sleeve button down and paired it with some fitted black jeans. His hair was styled back to show off his forehead.

You were sipping on your cocktail one of your aunts had made when you noticed that the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, letting you peek at his collarbone. You suddenly felt hot and needed to get some water.

When you returned, you scooted your chair a little closer to your boyfriend, leaning against him. He was smiling and laughing at something your brother in law had said when his laughter almost instantly died down.

Your hand had snuck under the table to his thigh. He glanced at you, wondering if you’d done it on purpose wbut ehen he was met with the sight of you sipping your water innocently, he assumed it was just habit.

A habit that happened to get him riled up.

As dessert went on, the kids finished their food and went off to play more. Soonyoung had been asked to accompany them but he wasn’t done eating and he was engrossed in the conversation.

You took the opportunity to slide your hand up his thigh, closer to his crotch. His hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you as he hiss under his breath in Korean “what the hell are you doing?” You looked at him nonchalantly and shrugged, pulling your hand away and grabbing your empty plate.

Wordlessly you left the rable to start cleaning up, leaving your boyfriend both stunned and confused.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing until you noticed the time and called Soonyoung over from where he was playing with the youngest children. He was sad when you said you had to leave but it was getting late and you still had a bit of a drive back to your hotel.

After a lengthy goodbye, the two of you departed, Soonyoung taking over driving while following the GPS on your phone. The drive was mostly quiet, the radio playing softly as the scenery passed by in a blur. The sun was almost completely below the horizon as you looked out the window.

Glancing over at your boyfriend proved to be a questionable choice with the alcohol in your system and the way you’d been teasing him, albeit briefly, earlier, left you with a sense of dissatisfaction.

Trying to be as nonchalant as you could, you stretched your arms before letting one of your hands rest on Soonyoung’s thigh.

He glanced down at your hand and then back up before looking at you quickly.

You gave him a warm smile, thanking him for coming with you to meet your family. He returned your smile, saying he was glad he came with you. “Your family is so loud and fun,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Especially the kids. I had so much fun with them today.”

You listened to him ramble on, talking about each member he had the chance to get to know a little and as you listened, watching him speak excitedly, your hand moved up his thigh just a little. It was so slow he almost didn’t notice.

It wasn’t until your hand brushed against his crotch that he realized your hand had moved. “What are you doing?” He asked suspiciously. “Nothing,” you said sweetly, eyeing him innocently.

“Then what’s that?” Soonyoung asked, nodding down towards your hand.

“What’s what?” You asked, feigning ignorance as a smirk started to form. “Baby,” Soonyoung said sternly as he tried to keep his focus on the dark empty road. “I’ve told you not to do this while I’m driving. It makes it hard to focus,” he added.

You teasingly pressed your palm against his cock, feeling it starting to harden under your touch. “Are you sure you want me to stop?” You asked, leaning closer. “Your body is telling me otherwise.”

Your hand moved again, making him let out a soft moan, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Y/N,” I’m serious,” he said in a shaky voice. “You don’t sound serious, Soonie.”

You continued to palm him through his jeans, his eyes fluttering shut briefly as he let out another low moan. “Babe, you’re gonna make us crash,” he groaned as you grabbed him through the thick material of his pants.

“Then keep your eyes on the road,” you replied, moving to undo the button of his jeans. Soonyoung let out a growl, pressing on the brakes and pulling over to the side of the road. “What are you doing?” You asked sitting upright and looking around the deserted area.

Soonyoung said nothing as he parked the car and cut the engine. He unbuckled his seat belt, getting out quickly as he shut the door and walked around the front of the car.

When he opened your door, you looked up to see a dark look in his eyes. “Get out of the car,” he ordered. His tone sent a shiver down your back and blood rushing to your core as you unbuckled your seat belt and got out. 

Soonyoung grabbed your waist, pulling you out of the way as he sat in your empty seat, turning you to face him and pulled you onto his lap, positioning you so your head was near the glove box. Soonyoung pulled your skirt up, exposing your ass and delivering a sharp slap to the skin. “I warned you,” he growled.

“You want to tease me? Act like a whore?” He asked as he stood up, pulling you with him. “Soonyoung, I’m sorry,” you gasped as he shut the door, pushing you against it. “Sorry? Oh now you’re sorry?” He scoffed, one hand moving up to cup your cheek before slipping into your hair and grabbing it roughly.

“Too bad,” he growled. “On your knees, slut.”

You obeyed, dropping to your knees in front of him. “Good girl,” Soonyoung purred. “Now open that pretty mouth for me.”

You did as he asked, watching as he undid his pants, pushing the denim and his underwear down.

“You just couldn’t wait until we got back to the hotel, could you?” He asked as he took his leaking cock in his hand, giving himself a couple strokes. “You wanted this so bad?” He asked, referencing his cock gripped in his hand.

You glanced up to meet his heated gaze, nodding once. “Be careful what you wish for, baby,” Soonyoung said in a low voice. “Wider,” he added, guiding the tip of his cock to your mouth. “Tongue out.” You obeyed his instruction, almost moaning as you felt the weight of his cock rest on your tongue.

“Good girl,” Soonyoung cooed. “Now be a doll and put that pretty mouth to work.”

Not wanting to be told twice, you took the head of your boyfriend’s cock onto your mouth, lips wrapping around him as he slid further in.

Your hands moved up to his thighs but you felt the grip on your hair tighten. “Keep your hands down,” he ordered, the harsh tone of his voice sending chills down your spine. You could feel your arousal starting to grow, pooling on the gusset of your panties.

Soonyoung rested his free hand against the car, holding your hair as he guided your head, driving his cock further into your mouth with each pull. “That’s it,” he said softly, watching his length disappear in your mouth.

“Keep your mouth open.”

Saliva coated his shaft, some of it spilling out of your mouth and down your chin. Giving him head was always an extremely messy affair as Soonyoung had a habit of wanting to fuck your face and use it to his advantage.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag and your empty cunt to clench around nothing. Your panties were soaked at this point and you hoped that Soonyoung would at least let you get off before getting back in the car.

You gagged again as he thrusted, hitting the back of your throat again. “God I love that sound,” Soonyoung murmured, his grip on your hair loosening as he lost himself in the feeling of your wet mouth.

You gasped as he pulled out of your mouth, almost protesting before he guided you to your feet and dragged you to the front of the car.

The sun had disappeared, twilight setting in as more stars started to appear.

You let out a small ‘oof’ as Soonyoung pushed you onto the hood of the car, your knees bumping into the front bumper. “Stay just like that,” he ordered as he pulled your panties to the side. “I’m gonna fuck you like the little whore you are.”

You didn’t have a chance to bite back as he pushed into your hole with one thrust, making you cry out in both pain and pleasure as he filled you up. The stretch stung but was quickly overshadowed by the familiar feeling of being full of his cock.

“I’d tell you to hold on,” he said as he grabbed your skirt in a bunch with one hand. “But you don’t have much to grab,” he added. He was right. The hood of the car was smooth and had nothing to hold onto.

You let out a whimper as he started off with hard but evenly paced thrusts before setting a relentless pace, hips hitting your ass with a loud smack.

“Such a good slut,” he groaned, his hand that wasn’t holding your skirt pushing you down against the car. Each thrust had breathy moans and whines leaving your lips as your boyfriend pounded into you mercilessly from behind.

“S-soonie,” you whimpered, hands pushing against the hood of the car, trying to push yourself up.

“I told you not to get up,” Soonyoung growled, the hand on your back moving to grab your hair. “Stay down and take it like the greedy little whore you are!”

You whined loudly, not caring if anyone was around to hear you. The road was deserted, there were no lights other than the stars and the running lights of the car.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Soonyoung grunted, his thrusts hard and deep as he rammed into you. “Always so tight but you take me so well.”

You were about to respond when your boyfriend suddenly wrapped an arm around your chest, pulling you up as he continued to fuck you against the hood the of car. “So tight and wet and all mine,” he growled.

You moaned, feeling his teeth sink into the slope of your neck. “Hng, not so hard, Soonyoung!” You whined as he sucked harshly. “Gotta let the whole world know you’re mine,” he growled in your ear before biting another spot, leaving marks along the parts of your neck and shoulder he could reach.

You let out a cry as Soonyoung let you fall back to the car, pulling out of your wet cunt with a hiss. You were about to ask what he was doing when he pulled you up and turned you to face him.

His lips collided with yours in a messy and rushed kiss, tongues clashing as he pushed you onto the hood of the car on your back. Pushing your back against the car, he grabbed your thighs, pulling them up to his waist as he lined his cock with your entrance and thrust into you, resuming the same pace as before.

You cried out, grabbing his wrists as he held your waist. The only sounds around you were the sounds of crickets and the occasional owl as well as the sound of his cock entering your wet pussy repeatedly, skin hitting skin as he fucked you.

In the dim light of the running lights, you could see the way Soonyoung’s brow furrowed as he focused on the aim and timing of his thrusts. His gaze met yours and your walls clenched around him as you made eye contact.

“Holy fuck,” Soonyoung groaned, his hands moving to push your shirt up, exposing your lace bra and chest. “God you’re so fucking hot.”

You moaned, letting out a squeal as Soonyoung wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you up, catching your lips in a wet, sloppy kiss. “Oh shit, i’m not gonna last,” Soonyoung whispered as his lips trailed down your neck, dropping to your chest and sucking the soft skin that peeked from under your bra.

Your fingers combed through his hair, tugging at the locks at the back of his head as his lips continued. You let out a moan as he pulled the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple in his mouth, tongue wetting the raised bud.

A loud moan ripped from your throat as your grip on Soonyoung’s hair tightened, throwing your head back as your orgasm started to wash over you.

Your boyfriend’s hips didn’t stop once, not even faltering as he continued to plow into you, helping you ride out your high as he chased his own. Your nipple had fallen from his mouth as he let out breathy, desperate whines and moans, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he buried his face into your chest.

“I’m gonna- oh god I’m gonna-!” He whimpered. “I know, baby,” you cooed, combing your fingers through his hair, one hand cupping his cheek. “Cum for me,” you continued. “Cum inside me. Fill me up.”

Soonyoung buried his face deeper into your chest, muffling his moans as he came, his thrusts continuing to move as he emptied his load into your wet cunt.

He continued to thrust weakly, shuddering breaths as he came down from his high slowly. “Oh my god,” he finally breathed as he pulled his head back to look up at you. “What have- I’m so sorry. I can’t believe we just- holy shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You let out a chuckle as he babbled, taking your face in his hands. You hadn’t seen yourself but you knew you probably looked like a mess. “S’okay, Soonie,” you murmured, kissing his hands as he examined your face. “‘M okay.”

He pulled you in for a gentle kiss, melting against you as you kissed him back just as tenderly. “We should probably move,” you whispered against his lips. Soonyoung sighed, wincing as your walls squeezed around his cock that was still buried inside you. “But you’re so warm,” he whined.

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Then let’s hurry and get back to the hotel,” you answered as he slowly pulled out of you, grimacing as his cum dripped out of you onto the hood and bumper of the car.

“Does your town have any 24 hour car washes?” He asked as you slid off the car, pushing your skirt and shirt back down. You looked up at him and then down to where he was staring. “Oh,” you said softly.

“I don’t think so,” you answered. “We can just wipe it off and clean the car tomorrow first thing.”

Soonyoung nodded, adjusting his pants, tucking his shirt back in having already put himself back in his underwear. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Let’s do that.”

You moved to your door, opening it and then grabbing a couple wipes from the container in your purse. You returned to the front and carefully wiped up your boyfriend’s cum from the hood and the bumper before standing upright.

“Here,” Soonyoung murmured, taking the wipes from you. “What’re you doing?” You asked as he knelt down, peering up your skirt and started to wipe the inside of your thighs. “You’ve got… yeah,” Soonyoung said softly as he wiped what you assumed was his cum from your skin.

As he stood back up he murmured another apology, prompting you to pull him closer with your arms around his neck and kissing him. “You have nothing to apologize for,” you added as he used another wipe to clean your chin and cheeks.

“I should be apologizing,” you continued. Soonyoung shook his head, his free hand resting on the small of your back. “Never apologize for wanting me,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“Just don’t distract me when I’m driving. I don’t want to kill us.”

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 31) - final chapter

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the opportunity to help the females in the Night Court is now here, and the last chapter of the reader's plan concludes

warnings: none

word count: 7.1k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is the final chapter of IALTPWF (there will be an epilogue for SURE, maybe a bonus chapter or two in the future) and i'm so emotional. i've poured my heart and soul into this story for two years and it's finally over. thank you to everyone who has shown this story support, I hope that in this chapter and the epilogue to come, you are satisfied with the ending. long mushy post to come later

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 / part 27 / part 28 / part 29 / part 30

read on ao3

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Nesta ran her fingers through your hair, plaiting it up in a coronet identical to her own. Her hands were steady, despite the raging sea of nerves that wracked both of you. It was a day’s ride to the Night Court on dragonback, and you could practically feel Zôrzimril itching to take flight. Without moving your head, you glanced at the window, seeing your dragon's golden scales shining in the moonlight. Athariel was behind her, the two mighty beasts laying down and resting before their long journey. 

Both of you donned your new riding leathers, with featherlight but sturdy pieces of armour attached. The shoulder pieces were scaled like dragon skin – yours, gold, and Nesta’s silver. The designs of the leather blended with the metal armour were beautifully crafted, fitting perfectly to your forms. You didn’t know if you wanted Eris to tell you how much he spent commissioning the pieces, but you were grateful for the protection nonetheless. 

As Nesta carefully pinned your hair in place, your stomach churned. The plan to help the females of the Night Court escape would finally conclude by tomorrow morning. Despite the detailed planning and the fact you had all the other High Lords helping the cause, nerves still wracked you. As much as you could guide the females down the right path, there would undoubtedly be many who were too afraid to leave.

It is their choice, you had to remind yourself constantly. Being from a different court, there is only so much you could do.

“Where are you right now?” Nesta murmured, resting her hands on her shoulders and looking at you in the mirror that sat on your dresser in front of you.

You blinked, pushing away your negative thoughts. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “You have that distant look in your eyes. And I can hear that brain of yours ticking away like an old watch. What exactly are you fretting about?”

“What am I not fretting about is the easier question,” you grumbled. “There are so many things that could go wrong with this plan.”

The scraping of chair legs filled the room as Nesta pulled up a second chair, placing it next to yours and taking a seat. “Like that? Let us rationalise it, ok?”

You took a deep breath. “This is the truly final piece to my plan. The last piece on the board to fall. One way or another, we’ve gotten what we wanted so far. What if this is where it all goes wrong?”

“I think you forget the countless times things already have gone wrong,” Nesta gently reminded you. “Rhys capturing you, your engagement to Malgorm, much of what you planned has gone awry in some way. Yet it has all worked out – this will, too. Remember, you’re not doing it alone this time. We have Tarquin, Thesan, Helion, Tamlin, and Kallias all helping with the full support of their courts. We will be fine.”

“But the females might not be.” You pointed out, trying to keep your brain from worrying about how the groups could be followed and hunted down on their journey to escape.

“The ones from the Hewn City have Gwyn and Azriel to protect them, and the Illyrian females know the mountain passes better than any of the males. They can handle themselves,” Nesta insisted. 

Gwyn had gone back into the Night Court a few hours after the meeting in Solaris to begin her whisper network. You had watched with a mix of pride and worry as she grabbed the shadowsinger’s hand, winnowing back into the very place she would be in the most danger. Somehow, deep down, you knew she would be okay. This was not the shy, frightened Gwyn you had first met in the Library. No, she had grown a new strength that rivalled the toughest steel in the armoury. With Azriel at her side, they would protect the females from the Court of Nightmares.

“Is Emerie still going with you to the Illyrian meetup point?” Nesta asked you, adjusting the armbands on her leathers.

You nodded.

“Good. Illyria will be the hardest path to navigate. Helion, Lucien and I will easily be able to get the Hewn City females to the cove and across the border. But you’ll have to extend your magic quite far into the Steppes, have you rested enough for that?”

“I think so,” you stood up, walking over to your table of breakfast and forcing a few orange slices into your mouth to calm your stomach. It tasted bitter on your tongue, and it took everything in you to swallow it.

Your mate snorted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “A fat lie. You were tossing and turning so much I was tempted to smother you to sleep,”

Smirking, you turned back to Nesta. “Well, there are ways in which you could smother me that I wouldn’t mind…”

Nesta’s cheeks went red, but she swatted you with her hand towel. “Insatiable thing. Did we not satisfy you enough yesterday before Eris left?” 

Now it was your turn to blush and look away. Eris had taken his and Tamlin’s armies on ships up to the Western coast of the Night Court. His goal was to feign an offensive launch to draw out the armies, undoubtedly drawing out Rhysand as well. False negotiations would take place, centring around questioning if Rhysand had dealt with Koschei yet – and if not, all six courts were prepared to attack and eliminate him entirely to break the bargain. But before he had left in his shining High Lord armour, your husband spent hours showing both you and Nesta how much he would miss his wives.

You shook your shoulders, brushing off the heated memories before you pounced on Nesta. The mating bonds in your chest urged you to engage in the frenzy that was common for new mates, but you resisted for now, choosing to change the subject. “So Helion will shelter everyone at the Day Court until me and my ships arrive with the Illyrian females since we don’t have the magic to winnow everyone,” you said, revisiting your plan you had gone over a million times.

Despite your constant repetition, Nesta remained patient. “Yes, my love,” she said. “Tarquin, Cresseida, Kallias, and Vivianne will be with you. I will have Helion and Thesan with me, and we will be waiting for you and the Illyrians to arrive before dividing everyone up.”

At the High Lord’s meeting a few days ago, every ruler had agreed to provide a home to a certain number of refugees. Autumn and Summer were taking the most, followed by Day, Spring, Dawn, and then Winter. “I can accommodate however many you need,” Kallias had said when discussing the logistics. “However, I do not think many will want to come. It is a harsher environment than many are used to, except maybe the Illyrians.”

With every court helping, there was room for thousands of females spread across Prythian. Nesta had played a large role in coordinating with builders and stonemasons from the other courts, sharing her plans and models from Solaris as reference for the construction of more shelters. It was an effort shared by fae all across the lands, a thought which warmed your heart.

“Everything is as in place as it can be, I guess,” you said, glancing outside at the rise of the moon from behind the mountains, a signal that it was time to go. “We are prepared. I just want all of this to be over. Aside from dealing with Koschei, this is the last obstacle to climb before I can finally relax, I think.”

Nesta placed a kiss on your cheek. “Me too. Now let’s go get Emerie, so we can get those females out of there and be done with all this.”

**********************

A surprisingly alert Emerie was already waiting for you in the clearing where Athariel and Zôrzimril waited. The beasts lifted their heads and called out happily, making Emerie flinch.

You laughed, causing the winged female to snap playfully, “Don’t even. Not all of us are used to dragons. Give me a hundred years before you expect me to not jump at those noises.” She donned black leathers with black armour, and that familiar white ribbon across her forehead. Her wings were a blueish black in the moonlight, 

“Well you’re about to spend a full day on the back of one so best get used to it quickly.” You grabbed your supply sac from Saeros, nodding your thanks before hauling it over your back. Despite having food, water, and extra clothes, it was not heavy thanks to a special spell from Helion. 

Emerie slung her identical sac over her arm. “We ready?”

“This is the most awake I’ve ever seen you at this hour,” Nesta joked from a few feet away where she was greeting Athariel, stroking the silver beast’s nose.

“I’m on a mission, okay?” Emerie shrugged. “Finally being able to help with something really awakens you.”

Colourful leaves crunched underneath your boots as you lead Emerie over to where Zôrzimril was waiting. “You say that like you haven't been up from sunrise to sunset working on Solaris for over two months,” you pointed out.

Emerie’s response was cut off as Zôrzimril lowered her head upon your approach, emitting a low rumbling noise as she eyes up the winged female. Emerie’s eyes were wide, and she stopped in her tracks. 

“It’s ok,” you reassured her as you ran your hand down the dragon’s jaw. “She’s just checking you out and saying hi. She won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“If you say so.”

“Come test it yourself. Say hello back.”

After a few protests, you managed to drag Emerie forward until she was face to face with your dragon. Zôrzimril’s nostrils flared, her eyes squinting as she seized up the creature in front of her. Gently, you grabbed Emerie’s hand, placing it on the dragon’s snout. She let out a gasp as her hand made contact with the hard but smooth scales of the beast, jaw slack with wonder. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “She feels so…”

“Powerful?” You finished your friend’s sentence for her, and she nodded.

“I never thought I’d know what it was to fly,” her voice was faraway, as if her mind and body were disconnected in a drift between memories and dreams. “I guess I will now.”

Nesta had come up to the two of you, pulling you both in for a big hug. You held your mate and your friend, sighing into their comforting touch. “I’ll see you both soon, okay?” Nesta said.

“Stay safe,” Emerie said as she nodded, giving Nesta a squeeze on the shoulder before pulling back and heading towards Zôrzimril cautiously, securing the straps of her backpack across her chest.

Nesta turned to you, a well of emotions swimming in her blue grey eyes. “What we’re doing here is bigger than both of us,” she said. “It will be the final nail in the Night Court’s coffin. I find myself wondering if we have doomed them to a tragic fate in our pursuit for revenge.”

You frowned. “Are you having regrets?”

“No,” Nesta shook her head. “I’m not. But it makes me sad. For as much as I hated the Night Court, it was a beautiful place. Not all of them were bad.”

You took Nesta’s gloved hands in your own. “Velaris will be safe. And we are aiding as many of the females from Illyria and the Hewn City as we can. Rhys may be an arrogant prick, but he is not a complete fool. He will protect his remaining citizens from Koschei – he put himself in this position, not us. He was the one ready to sacrifice them, let him deal with the consequences of those actions. Besides, many may choose to flee regardless of if they come with us or not.”

Your mate sighed, nodding. “You’re right. I just… I keep thinking about Feyre and Elain and the baby. I don’t want anything to do with them, at least not for a long time, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.”

“What if we wrote a letter to them?” You offered. “Let them know that should they need it, there will be a place for them at one of the sanctuaries. It doesn’t have to be in Autumn – I am sure Tarquin or Helion would gladly take them in.”

A sad smile came over Nesta’s face. “I’d like that, thank you.”

You knew Nesta’s relationship with her sisters would never be the same after everything that had happened in the last two years. It was a loss she would grieve and carry with her for a while. As much as you didn’t care for the other two Archeron siblings, they, too, had been dragged into the faerie world against their will. Truly, you hoped that one day they’d find happiness and a good home in Prythian, just not with Nesta in the Autumn Court.

Giving Nesta’s hand one last squeeze, you turned towards Zôrzimril and walked over to where Emerie was stroking the beast’s neck. When the dragon saw you approaching, she eagerly dropped her shoulder, extending her wing towards the ground for you to grab onto. So you gently stepped up onto the dragon’s scaling spikes, holding her wing for support and climbing up onto her back. In just a few movements, you settled yourself into the gaps between the horns at the base of Zôrzimril’s neck.

You peered down at Emerie, who went white. “Come on!” You called out in encouragement.

“That’s how you get up?” The Illyrian female baulked, causing you to scoff.

“Did you think we had a ladder or a staircase to get up?”

“Yes, actually!”

“Well time to put those Valkyrie muscles to use and get your ass up here.”

Emerie sighed, muttering to herself but grabbed onto Zôrzimril’s wing shakily. Awkwardly, she managed to scale up the dragon’s shoulder, panting and plopping herself down behind you. “That’s not as easy as you made it look.” She huffed.

You shrugged. “Take’s practice, now clip in.”

Emerie did so, taking the rope that was attached to her belt and clipping it onto the holster that was fitted around Zôrzimril’s nearest horn. You did the same, watching as Athariel spread her mighty silver wings beside you. The beast ran forward and shot into the air with the agility of a cat, and you heard Nesta whoop with delight. She seemed like a speck of dust on the large creature, but you managed to catch a glimpse of her turning her head around to look at you one more time.

Zôrzimril screeched in defiance of being left behind, and you patted her scales. “Volare,” you said to her using the command Eris had taught you. Happy to oblige, the dragon lifted her head, causing Emerie to grasp onto the scales in front of her and curse as she spread her wings and catapulted into the air.

The female behind you let out a yelp, and you lifted your chin to the stars above and sighed deeply, relishing the feeling of climbing higher and higher into the sky. Zôrzimril’s powerful body soared through the clouds, her wings cutting through them like razor sharp blades. 

It was only another minute before your ascent finished and you finally broke free of the clouds, and Zôrzimril angled herself straight once more. She let out a happy screech, dipping her claw down to slice through the clouds below as she flew North. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view. The moon was bright, illuminating everything in a blue-silver tone. The stars shone brightly even with the light of the moon, twinking as if they were greeting you.

Behind you, Emerie’s breathing had steadied. “Holy shit…” She said with awe.

You turned to face your friend. “A bit different than being carried through the skies by an Illyrian male”

“You have no idea…” Her brown eyes were wide with wonder as they drank in the view of the midnight sky. She stretched her wings as far as they could go, sighing. “I never thought I’d feel the wind on my wings like this.”

Despite the cold night air, your heart warmed at seeing your friend so happy. Carefully, she let go of her ironclad grip on Zôrzimril’s horns, letting her arms stretch out to the side. Straightening her shoulders, she tipped her head back and let out a whoop to the stars. Her voice rang out amongst the clear sky, and her smile did not fade all the way to the Night Court.

**********************

Your legs were numb from flying for so long, even a few hours later as you gathered around a small campfire with Emerie, Tarquin, Viviane, and Kallias. A small unit of guards were stationed nearby, ready to jump into action should things go south. Luckily, Kallias had put up a glamour around the beach, shielding both everyone on land and on the ships just offshore from lingering eyes. The Lord and Lady of Winter each donned their white fur coats that, combined with their pale skin and hair, made them glow under moon high. Tarquin wore a simple blue tunic with a deep V, his white hair braided back out of his chiselled face. While unmistakably powerful beings, they were dressed like they were going to a simple meeting rather than a rescue mission – perhaps as to not frighten the females. No doubt there was armour glamoured somewhere, ready to replace their casual attire at the snap of fingers. 

“They should be here soon,” Emerie muttered, pacing nervously and glancing at the rocky hills in the distance that led to the Illyrian Mountains where the females would be coming from. The steppes began half a mile away from the rocky beach where you stood, the beige and brown shrubbery rustling in the wind eerily. 

At least the mountains had shelter, places to hide from anyone who may try and follow the large groups. But the steppes were out in the open, which made you nervous.

“Give it time,” Tarquin said gently. “This is not a swift moving group of warriors. They are likely burdened with their provisions, as well as children and the sick or elderly.”

“Why can’t we just meet them at the end of the mountain pass and escort them to the beach?” Emerie asked nervously, cracking her knuckles.

“Because we are already in the Night Court’s territory,” Viviane tried to reassure the female, her white hair glowing in the moonlight. “To go farther than this would be considered an invasion.”

“Eris is launching an invasion, why can’t we?” Emerie spoke as if she had not heard half of the Lady of the Winter court’s sentence.

“A false one,” Viviane did not lose her patience as she spoke. “One that is taking place on ship, therefore not encroaching on Rhysand’s borders. Stepping on the beach is easy to overlook, but heading into the Steppes would be an act of war. We have to be cautious.”

Emerie nodded, eyes clouded as she stopped pacing and sat down on a nearby log. You knew your friend’s greatest fear – that only a small group would have made it out of Illyria, leaving hundreds left behind for dead. You prayed that her fears would not come true.

The steady pounding in your head that had started an hour ago began to increase, and you groaned, swaying slightly. The light in your palms that guided the doe you had manifested with your magic and sent deep into the Illyrian Mountains dimmed slightly, but you quickly willed it to strengthen once again. Deep down, you felt thin and stretched from having to extend your magic so far for several hours.

“Are you okay?” Kallias asked, his white brows narrowing with concern. 

You nodded. “Magic is tiring… I haven’t kept it going for this long… ever…” Your voice grew strained and weak, all of your energy focused on keeping that white trail of light going. You hated that you couldn’t even tell if there was anyone following it. All you could do was hope that everyone had made it to the designated escape starting point on time.

“She will not last much longer,” Tarquin muttered to his fellow High Lord. “It may yet be another few hours until the group arrives. I expect we will see them around sunrise at this rate.”

You barely heard Kallias’s response, closing your eyes and taking another deep breath. You could feel Nesta trying to reach you through the mating bond, but didn’t have the energy to respond. You could tell she was already in the Day Court, having succeeded in aiding the escape from the Court of Nightmares. And you wanted to reassure her that you were fine, that all was going well. But you couldn’t. You were swimming in a sea of your own powerful magic, but your body was not equipped to handle the strain.

“Hey, stay with us.” Your eyes snapped open at Viviane’s voice. She had come to stand at your side along with Emerie, an arm around your waist steadily supporting your unstable figure. Her blue eyes were laced with concern and she took in your exhausted form and turned to her husband. “She won’t be able to hold out until sunrise.”

“I can do it…” You muttered, mustering as much determination into your voice as you could. 

“No, you cannot,” Kallias said sternly. “You are not used to wielding magic for this long of a period. It requires extreme focus, especially for something as complicated as this. And you’ve been at it for several hours already, it is taking its toll and sooner or later you will pass out from exhaustion.”

Guilt wracked you, and you fought off tears. You felt like a failure as you whispered, “I’m sorry…” 

“Do not be,” Viviane assured you gently. “This is not a simple matter of setting up a ward or a glamour and leaving it be. You’re guiding a strange new type of magic none of us have seen before through miles of terrain that is unknown to you. Give yourself a break.”

“I can’t… stop…” You protested, vision going in and out. 

“So don’t,” came Tarquin’s voice. “I’ll give you a boost.”

Beside you, Emerie frowned. “A boost?”

You heard stones shift as Tarquin stepped around the fire, coming to stand in front of you. “Yes,” he said. “I can channel some of my magic into her to keep her body strong enough.”

“That’s a thing?” Your Illyrian friend asked.

“It is rarely done, as it is difficult to do, but yes.” Came Tarquin’s reply. 

“Do it…” You spoke up weakly, every syllable dragging out like a heavy stone. All you wanted to do was collapse into a soft bed and sleep for a year. Kallias was right, you couldn’t do this on your own.

“I must warn you, it will feel strange,” Tarquin’s voice sounded, and you felt Viviane and Emerie step away as the High Lord of the Summer Court took your hand that was not glowing with a trail of magic. “My magic is very different from yours, and your first instinct may be to expel it. Refrain from resisting.”

You nodded, opening your eyes and looking up at Tarquin. He nodded, and his hand moved up to your wrist, clamping down. You rotated your arm slightly to do the same, taking a deep breath. The male began to emit a soft glow, the whites of his eyes seeming to brighten and give him an otherworldly quality.

Seconds later, you felt it.

Tarquin’s magic pushed into your body, and you gasped sharply. It was like a tidal wave was being slammed into you, a raging sea coursing through your veins. It felt the complete opposite of Nesta and Eris’s comforting fire, or your own light-filled power. 

Your entire body felt like a riptide, and you could practically taste the salty air of summer on your tongue as your bones vibrated with new magic. You willed yourself to relax, to accept the foreign power being pumped into you. As you did so, your limbs felt stronger. Exhaustion was chased away, and you were finally able to open your eyes. A thin, golden band of magic circled in figure eights between your attached hands, dancing and twisting around each other.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Tarquin.

He nodded. “We must remain linked for the magic to prevail. An hour should give your body enough time to recover and reset.”

With renewed energy, you felt the white light in your free palm glow brighter, urging the Illyrian females out of the mountains.

**********************

The sun was beginning to creep up five hours later, and Tarquin’s boost of magic had vanished a while ago. Viviane was now holding you up once again, your head droopy as you fought to keep that light strong. You felt it was close, which made it easier to hang on.

“They’re approaching,” You said through gasped breaths.

Emerie shot up from where she was sitting, the jerky she was chewing on falling to the ground. “You can feel them?” She asked eagerly.

“No,” you responded as Kallias, Tarquin, and the soldiers perked up. “But my magic feels close, and we have to assume that means they are close as well.”

Tarquin turned to one of his guards. “Winnow to the ships and tell Cresseida we are almost ready to receive the refugees.” He ordered, and the guard disappeared within seconds. 

The hope in Emerie’s eyes as she gazed into the Steppes rekindled some strength within you. You gently pushed yourself off of Viviane, taking a shaky step towards where Emerie was looking.

“What’s that?” Viviane asked, pointing to one of the rocky hills in the distance near the mountains. Both the High Lords joined her where she stood a few feet away from you and Emerie.

A faint, glowing white doe stood upon the hill. Stardust seemed to swirl around its feet as it leapt over the rocks bounding through the plains towards the beach. Everyone held their breath, silence filling the air.

“Come on…” Emerie muttered nervously.

Moments later, a set of wings appeared where the doe was – a female carrying a lit torch. She was so far away, even with your fae eyesight it was hard to tell for sure who it was. But then another one appeared beside her, slightly taller, carrying a large sac.

“Lift the glamour!” Viviane barked at Kallias, who snapped his fingers. The air shimmered for a second before clearing. The doe continued to bound toward you, getting fainter and fainter as you felt the last bit of energy you had controlling your magic slipping.

More and more sets of wings appeared over the rocky hill, the torches going from one to a hundred in minutes. Like an army ready for battle, hundreds and hundreds of winged females stepped down onto the plains. Emerie let out a choked sob from beside you.

“By the Mother…” Tarquin gasped softly. “They made it!”

“There’s so many of them…” Viviane said with awe as more and more torches and winged bodies funnelled out of the mountain pass. Sure enough, through your blurry and exhausted vision, you managed to make out the sight of a swarm of bodies stepping onto the flat stretch, shuffling towards the now glamour-free beach.

As they grew closer and guards scurried about with preparations, you breathed a sigh of relief. And then the world grew dark as you collapsed into Tarquin’s arms with exhaustion. 

**********************

An otherworldly headache pounded against your skull as you blinked open your eyes, the golden sunlight shining into your face too bright to handle. Your entire body felt heavy, like a stone at the bottom of the ocean.  When you groaned, a familiar hand brushed some hair out of your face.

“Why hello there,” came the familiar silky voice of Eris. 

With as much effort as you could, you pried your eyes open and blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness. Eris was seated beside you, leaning against the frame of the bed you were laying in with a book in one hand. He donned a white shirt with a deep v-neck and loose sleeves, paired with light green trousers. His long red hair was braided back, a few strands framing his sharp face. He smiled gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” you mumbled, relaxing into his touch as he continued to stroke your face. “Where am I?”

“One of Helion’s quarters,” Eris said, bringing a cup of water to your lips and coaxing the liquid into your mouth. “You passed out right as the Illyrians arrived, and Tarquin brought you straight here.”

The Illyrians.

You sat up abruptly, ignoring the protest of your tired body. “They made it? The ships got them here safely?”

Eris smiled, nodding. “Yes, my dear. All eight thousand of them.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Eight thousand? How many came from the Hewn City?”

“Five thousand, as to be expected. Many families had already made it to Velaris safely, so there were not as many females as in Illyria left behind.”

The room spun around you with shock. The white marble bookcases across from your bed seemed to sway, and you shook your head. “Wow,” was all you could murmur.

Eris gently pulled you against his chest, kissing your head. “Wow, indeed. I am so proud of you, my dear. You’ve saved the lives of thirteen thousand females today. They know what you did for them, and Nesta has had to practically barricade your door to keep them from barging in here to thank you.”

“Where is Nesta?” You asked.

“She will be here in a few minutes,” Eris replied. “You began to stir half an hour ago, so I sent word to her. She was with the other High Lords helping crunch numbers for which courts are taking which females.”

You sighed with content, the warmth of Eris’s body relaxing you. You turned on your side, wrapping an arm around him and snuggling closer to your mate. “I can’t believe we pulled that off,” you murmured.

Eris cocked his head, setting his book aside on the table. “Why? It was a good plan, and we thought through every possible scenario to ensure its success.”

“How did negotiations with Rhys go?”

Your husband let out a sharp laugh. “Seeing Rhysie is always such a treat,” he chuckled. “He fell for the bait quite easily. We waited for half a day in our ships before the Illyrians descended from the skies and the Darkbringers appeared on the shoreline, all ready for a battle that would not happen. I demanded an audience, and Rhys complied. I talked his ear off for a few hours, and let him whine about the supposed unfairness of all this. It got painfully dull after a while, but I found out something very interesting…”

You perked up, peering up at the male who had a smug look on his face. “What?”

“Rhysand broke his bargain with Koschei. After the baby was born, he travelled to the depths of the lake in which the Death God dwells and declared his intentions to not hold up his end. There was a price to be paid, of course, one I find very symbolic.

“Rhys has relinquished almost all of his power to Koschei. His magic was ripped out of him and fed to the beasts beneath the lake floors like a bone to a dog. He was left with the bare minimum to keep Velaris safe enough, but that’s it. Furthermore, he is required to visit Koschei once a month for a week – a mirror of that very same bargain he made with dear Feyre over a year ago. By doing so, he guaranteed Koschei will not go after Nesta, not with a new plaything at his disposal.”

Your jaw went slack. “Rhys… lost his powers?” You repeated in shock.

Eris didn’t even bother trying to refrain his smile from widening. “Yes. I think it’s justice, personally. I cannot say I feel bad for him in the slightest. It also seems Feyre told him that in the process of breaking the bargain, he had to find a way to keep Nesta alive as well. For all his faults, he will do whatever Feyre asks of him at this point. That is a blessing for us.”

You exhaled shakily. Rhys was one of the most powerful High Lords, now diminished to a regular High Fae male in a small city. There would be no gaining control of Illyria and the Hewn City now with this loss of power, you realised. “I can’t believe this…” You said, still rattled with shock.

Eris rubbed your shoulder. “Anywho, once he told me that story we made some reassurances to each other. Me and Tamlin’s ships departed slowly, giving the armies more time to linger and make sure we had left before returning home to find almost half of their population gone. The distraction worked perfectly, I am sure they are in a tizzy about it as we speak.”

Before you could answer, the door to your guest chambers swung open to reveal Nesta. Her hair was in a singular braid, hanging across her shoulder. She wore a shining gold dress that was carefully draped over one shoulder, the fabric hanging loosely across her chest. Your eyes popped open, and Eris laughed beside you.

“I have never seen you wear something like this before,” he chuckled.

Rolling her eyes, Nesta closed the door behind her and came over to sit on your other side. “Oh, please,” she snapped. “Helion picked it out personally. I couldn’t not wear it, it’s his court after all.”

“I’m not complaining,” you insisted as Nesta gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“He is a relentless flirt,” Eris said, amused. “But one with good taste.”

You sighed as Nesta rubbed your back, despite her death glare she sent at Eris. The three of you sat in silence for a few minutes, happy to be back in each other’s company. With your mates by your side, the weariness you had felt began to diminish. 

“I want to see the females,” you said. “I want to make sure they’re okay.”

“Emerie is taking good care of them and the dragons are guarding the borders,” Nesta said gently. “You need to rest.”

You shook your head, sitting up and peeling the soft duvet off. You crawled over Eris’s legs, unsteadily placing your feet on the white marble ground. 

“Take it easy,” Eris chided, holding your elbow. “Your body is exhausted. You can see them tomorrow.”

“No,” you said sharply, standing up like a newborn deer and heading over to the closet in the corner. “After everything we’ve done to see this through, I need to see them with my own eyes.”

Nesta and Eris exchanged a glance, but didn’t protest. You ignored them and grabbed the white dress Helion had hung up in there for you, peeling off your nightgown. You pulled the soft fabric on, tying the gold belt around your waist. “Where are they staying right now?” You asked.

“Many are in the main hall,” Eris replied, standing up. “Others are in temporary camps set up across the fields. I believe those residing in the main hall are currently at dinner.”

“Great,” you said, holding out your hand. “Take me there, please.”

“As you wish,” Nesta said, taking your other arm while Eris grasped your extended hand. 

After ten minutes of meandering through Helion’s royal hallways, you came to the dinner room, passing through the white columns at the entrance. 

Your jaw nearly dropped. Hundreds of females sat at tables or on comfortable floor mats, hearty soups in hand as they chatted quietly amongst themselves. A group of musicians played in the corner, the gentle tune echoing in the grand chamber. Dozens of eyes turned towards you as Eris and Nesta led you through the crowd towards the table at the front, where Emerie, Tamlin, Lucien, Helion, Thesan, Tarquin, Cresseida, Kallias, and Viviane were seated. Gwyn and Azriel sat at the end, partially hidden in the shadows. When your friend saw you, she smiled brightly and waved. You breathed a sigh of relief, seeing her safe after everything she had done.

Lucien stood up, coming around the front of the table to greet you. His eye gleamed with pride as he opened his arms. “Come here, you,” he said cheerfully.

Peeling away from your mates, you lept into Lucien’s arms, hugging him tightly. Your friend chuckled, squeezing you reassuringly. “Glad you made it out okay,” he said.

“You too,” you replied, pulling away and smiling at him. “We did it. We really did it.”

“I told you, you’d make a good High Lady,” came a familiar gruff voice. Tamlin had risen as well, approaching behind Lucien and offering you a small smile. “We are all very proud.”

“Thank you, Tam.” You said gratefully. His large hand patted you on the back before returning to his place at the table. 

Nesta gently grabbed your hand. “Come, you must eat.” She guided you towards one of the three empty chairs at the centre of the long table. It was covered in various fruits, roasted vegetables with sauces, and about ten different kinds of meat. Your mouth watered as you realised how hungry you were.

On the way, you stopped beside Gwyn and Azriel, leaning down to hug your friend. “Thank goodness you’re okay,” you murmured into Gwyn’s shoulder.

“Ye of little faith,” she said sarcastically “I was fine. All I did was chat up some priestesses, they were the ones who mostly spread the word. I was safe and sound.”

You pulled away. “Come join us at our end of the table!”

The priestess shook her head. “I’m okay here, it’s too crowded over there.”

“You mean you want to just sit here and ogle Azriel,” Nesta singsonged with a gleam in her eyes.

Gwyn’s face went red, and to your surprise, Azriel flushed slightly as well. “Shut the fuck up,” she snapped at Nesta playfully, shifting in her seat.

“It’s okay, Gwyn,” Eris piped up, winking at the shadowsinger, who seemed like he wanted to bury himself alive. “He is quite pretty to look at. But should you change your mind and like to join us, let us know.”

You laughed, Gwyn’s muttering and cussing you out as you, Nesta, and Eris took your seats at the table. As you dove into the plate of food in front of you, you tuned into the lively sounds of the room while Nesta and Eris began chatting with Helion. 

Many of the females kept glancing at you, some offering smiles or nods before returning to their company. Some were huddled in the corner, eyes wary as they consistently scanned their surroundings. You wondered how many females had similar stories to Emerie, or to Morrigan. How many had suffered for years and accepted it because they believed that is how things would always be? How many had been spared future suffering because of their escape?

As you downed your goblet of wine, you reminisced on that day in the House of Wind last year when you had first started your plan to flee the Night Court and seek revenge on its leaders. Never did you think that it would go this far, that you would accomplish this much. All you had wanted was to be free and be able to make your own choices. And now it led to seeking that same outcome for thousands of others.

Rhys could never hurt you again. Those painful images of that cruel, dark mist lashing your bare skin over and over again would fade into distant memory eventually, with no fear of it ever happening again. He couldn’t lock you or Nesta up, or threaten you. No, you both had more power than him now by a long measure. You were finally free from his grasp.

A year ago you had been angry at Feyre, too. Part of you still was, and delighted in the karmic justice of destroying part of her court in retribution. But you hoped for her sake, that she would accept the help offered in the letter Nesta had planned to send. For a moment, you wondered if Feyre would still be who she was now if she hadn’t met Rhys.

“What are you thinking about?” Eris asked you, leaving Nesta to argue with Helion herself.

His amber eyes were soft and kind, the cruel mask that he had plastered on for so many centuries cracked and slipped away. The world could see Eris for who he truly was not, not just as Beron’s firstborn son. 

You smiled. “How I can’t wait for everything here to be sorted so we can go home.”

“Me too, my dear, me too.” He squeezed your hand and surveyed the room again. “You have accomplished what many in the likes of my father deemed impossible. Now even the most stubborn fae realise that things can change fast if they will it so. That is a very good thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

The road ahead would not be without challenge. Settling thirteen thousand females into six courts would be a process, and there would surely be setbacks along the way. But after a year of being tortured, beaten, sneaking around and scheming, you were ready for some normal problems.

“Eris?” You said.

He turned to face you once again. “Yes?”

“I love you. And thank you, for everything you’ve done. None of this would have been possible if you hadn’t agreed to help me last year.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court laughed, kissing your cheek gently. “It is I who should be thanking you. Both of you. You freed me from the prison of my old life. And not just me, but thousands of others. I intend on spending eternity thanking you for it.”

So you laced one hand in Eris’s, and the other in Nesta’s as they both looked at you with so much love in their eyes you were sure you would explode. As much as you liked the Day Court, you yearned to be back in Autumn where you belonged, under the bright trees and wandering the forest paths. As if echoing your thoughts, Zôrzimril’s call echoed on the wind like an ancient song.

And so the yellow rays of sunshine morphed into orange and red, and the sun began to set. You felt a faint brush of a hand on your shoulder, and a familiar, ethereal voice sounded in your ear barely above a whisper.

Well done, my child.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains, the echoing voice faded with it. 

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[floreads]

baby blues • carmen berzatto x reader

pair: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

synopsis: sugar's childhood best friend throws her baby shower, and is reintroduced to carmy.

a/n: while researching the character ages for this piece i discovered that nothing really makes sense timeline wise for the siblings’ ages, so just for the sake of this fic i decided that carmy is 28, reader is 29, and sugar is 31 <3 also i did not proof read this lmao so sry for any mistakes !

warnings: anxiety/panic attack, lots of swearing lmao, mentions of hooking up but nothing explicit, lmk if i missed anything else <3

word count: 3.2k

"Okay - yo, be careful with the cake!" You run - or wobble, as quickly as your heels will let you - over to the dessert table, pulling your dress down as you go. Running the show in this outfit wasn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t have time to go home and change before the event is set to start. The venue staff wouldn’t let you come in any earlier than 1:00 PM to get everything ready, despite your numerous pleas. 

The two-tiered dessert wobbles slightly, as Richie and his colleague from the yet-unopened The Bear restaurant make the short but dangerous trek from the venue door to the row of long tables. 

"Relax, Y/N, we got it," Richie waves you away. "Marcus here is a professional." They place the cake slowly, but precisely, onto its display stand.  

"It's not him I'm worried about," you give him a playful squint. "Everything has to be perfect for Sugar. She deals with enough, having to see your ugly ol' mug every day." 

You turn away from him before he can fire back, and greet Marcus with a quick nod. "It's nice to finally meet you, Marcus. Beautiful work on the cake." 

He smiles back at you. "Of course, only the best for Sugar's baby."

That's all you wanted - the best for Sugar's baby. That's why you took it upon yourself to plan Sugar's baby shower. It's something you'd been planning basically your entire lives - ever since you two were old enough to steal your moms’ magazines during sleepovers. You two had planned your entire lives out together, and though the details have shifted over the years, there was one constant through it all: you’d always have each other.

Growing up, you and Sugar were virtually inseparable despite her being a few years older than you. Wherever one went, the other was soon to follow, like a shadow. You never really got along with your own parents, and as the only girl in her family, Natalie welcomed additional the feminine energy. Gone were the days of Mikey and Carmy ganging up on her when you were around. It was, and still is, you and Natalie against the world. 

You glance at your watch with an impatient sigh. 2:36 PM. You have less than half an hour before all of the guests arrive, and 54 minutes until Pete arrives with Sugar. You've been there for the last hour and a half getting everything ready for Sugar and her unborn baby, and yet there was one thing missing. Carmen Berzatto hasn't come with the food yet. 

"Does anyone know where the fuck Carmen is?" you ask, not to anyone in particular.

As if he was waiting for his cue, Carmy barrels through the door right then, breathing as if he’d just run the mile in gym class. Two women you have yet to meet, presumably from his restaurant that you’ve heard so much about, are right on his heels, helping him wheel in a cart full of food trays and serving utensils. 

“Fuckin’ finally. It’s nice of you to join us, Carmen.” You exaggeratedly throw your hands up, walking over to him. This was not the reunion you’d hoped for after not seeing Carmy in years, after what you’d dubbed the incident - one that not even Nat knows about. 

“Finally? We’re only,” he checks his watch, “ten minutes late.”

“Ten minutes?! Try an hour and ten minutes,” you scoff, looking at him incredulously. 

His eyes widen, and you are slightly taken aback by just how blue they are, though you don’t know how you could’ve forgotten. His face reddens and you aren’t sure if it’s because of the intensity of your gaze or his embarrassment at being late. Before you can think too much into it, he’s turning to look at Richie.

“What the fuck, Cousin, you told me she said 2:30.” 

Richie turns to you. “I thought that’s what you told me to say!”

The biggest sigh, possibly of all time, leaves your body and you cover your face. “No, Richie, I told you to tell him to be here by 1:30.” 

“You know, I seriously fuckin’ doubt you said that, but maybe next time you should just call him yourself.” Richie counters. 

“God fuckin’ forbid I accept help when you offer it! But don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson, ya fuckin’ jagoff,” your teenage accent comes out for a second, as always ends up happening when you argue with Richie. 

Carmy, who knows the way you and Richie fight all too well after witnessing it through your teenage years, steps in between you two. “Alright, alright, it doesn’t fuckin’ matter who said what anymore. What matters is we’re here now and I need to set up this food ASAP.” He turns, giving you his full attention. “Y/N, where can we put this food?” 

You send Richie one final glare before turning and leading Carmy to two long tables at the front of the room. “You’ve got these tables right over here. The venue gave us some food warmers, I’m sure you can figure out how to set those up better than I can. Be fast, Berzatto, we’ve got less than an hour before Sugar gets here and if anything is out of place, I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass.”

“Heard, Red.” He gives you a curt nod and moves to grab one of the trays of food before pausing so slightly that you know no one noticed - no one but you. He recovers quickly though, and it’s as if nothing happened. 

Your pause, however, is much more notable. No one has called you Red since Mikey died. Though the nickname was just the result of an unfortunate at home, box hair dye job at 15 (you were experimenting with your look - they can’t all be winners, okay?), it solidified you as an unofficial member of the Berzatto clan. 

“U-um, I guess I’ll just leave you to it then,” you stammer out, busying your hands with your phone to hide their trembles. As if she can feel your discomfort, the girl with the long braids tucked into a scarf walks forward, between you and Carmy, and offers you her hand to shake.

“I’m Sydney, by the way, Carmy’s CDC at The Bear,” she smiles. “And this is Tina, my sous,” she gestures to the smaller, but older woman next to her. 

You take her hand and introduce yourself, mentally berating yourself for not introducing yourself earlier. It’s not like you to be so rude - the stress of planning and executing a surprise baby shower for your best friend paired with the unnerving feeling of seeing Carmy for the first time since Natalie’s wedding must be getting to you. It may not be your place, but you’re still a little mad at him for skipping out on Mikey’s funeral and dropping contact with you altogether.

“I’m sorry! I swear, I’m usually not this all over the place. This whole thing’s got me goin’ a little crazy,” you gesture around the room. “Y’know, I’ve been meanin’ to get over to The Bear - it’s all Sugar’s been able to talk about lately. Besides the baby, of course. I was outta town for friends and family night - visiting my grandparents.” This was a lie - if Carmy was going to ignore you, then you were going to ignore him. Though, you know you’ll end up in the establishment one of these days now that Sugar is so involved. 

“Well, I’m sure Carmy and Natalie would love to have you in one of these days.” 

Your eyes flit to Carmen while you give Sydney a tightlipped smile and nod. You try not to let the awkwardness between you and Carmy show when your eyes meet. While you’d normally make some snide remark about how Carmy doesn’t have room for you in his life anymore, you remind yourself that today is about Sugar - not whatever problems you have with her younger brother. 

You take a deep breath and clap your hands together, wearing the kind of artificial smile that only the cheerleading protagonist of an early aughts teen drama would give. “Maybe someday!” 

Sydney and Tina exchange a look that you pretend not to notice.

“Well, I’ll just leave you guys to it then! The guests will be here any minute, so I’m gonna do one last walkthrough. Everything’s gotta be perfect,” you mumble the last part to yourself.

3:27

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, eyes bouncing between the venue’s big analog clock and the party’s guests, consisting of The Bear’s staff and the entire Berzatto clan (besides Donna - while Pete was in charge of the invites, you’d made sure that he didn’t invite her) when your phone vibrates in your hand.

Pete: The eagle is flying.

Your eyebrows furrow.

You: wtf are you talking about dude???

You: can u text me like a normal person rn, im about to have an anxiety attack

Pete: Me and Nat are outside!

You look up, eyes wide.

“Everyone, shut the fuck up! Hey, shut the fuck up! She’s here!” You shout, gesturing around wildly. It’s a little hard to get the attention of the loudest family of all time. Thankfully, Carmy sees you struggling and steps up to the front of the room with you.

“Yo! Sugar’s here!” His voice fills the venue, and everyone gets into place in front of the overflowing gifts table. “C’mon,” he motions you over to the front of the group with him. You can hear Sugar before you see her.

“Seriously Pete, where the fuck are you taking me? I’m way too pregnant to be blindfolded right now. Plus, there’s shit I gotta do at The Bear.”

“We’re almost there, relax,” Pete says with a clear smile in his voice as he opens the door and guides Sugar into the room.

The room erupts with an out of sync “Surprise!” and Sugar rips her blindfold off immediately, looking around the room in disbelief. 

She turns to Pete and hits him lightly on the chest, “What the fuck, Pete? Is this my fuckin’ baby shower?” 

He leans in to give her a kiss with his hand resting on her baby bump, and the moment is so sweet you have to look away. 

“Yeah, Nat. As much as I’d like to take the credit, Y/N was the mastermind here.” He gestures over to you and Sugar runs over to you, squealing.

The two of you hug as tightly as you can with the baby between you as she thanks you repeatedly. “I can’t believe you did all this!” You give her one last squeeze before letting her go.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Sugar. Plus, I gotta make sure baby Berzatto knows how much I love them already. I’m campaigning hard for that Godmother spot.”

“Psh,” she waves you off. “You already know you’re a shoo-in. Who else am I supposed to have as the Godparents for my first born if not you and Carmy?” She scoffs and moves on to greet her brother. 

The relief you feel as Sugar gets smothered with love by her family and friends is visible on your face as you make your way to the small bar and pour yourself a generous glass of wine. Now that Sugar was here and having a good time, your job micromanaging was done. You see Richie make his way over to you, pouring a drink of his own. 

“Ya did good, kid,” he gives you a pat on the back as he watches Sugar and Tiff animatedly talking. 

“Yeah, no thanks to your attempts at sabotage,” you joke. What was that with you tellin’ Carmy the wrong time?”

“I refuse to accept that, there’s no fuckin’ way I gave Carmy the wrong time. Anyway, if you two would just grow the fuck up and talk to each other-”

“Okay, don’t even fuckin’ go there, Richie,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You know damn well I’ve tried to talk to him. If there’s anyone you should be lecturin’’ about this, it’s him, not me.” You pause to finish your drink. “Believe me, I’ve fuckin’ tried.” You pour yourself a new drink, smaller than the first. No matter how much you want to be drunk right now, you need to keep a clear head in case anything goes wrong. 

“I don’t know what that kid’s problem is,” he gestures to Carmy, slightly shaking his head. “It’s like tradition for the maid of honor and best man to hook up at a wedding. Who fuckin’ cares?”

Your eyes widen and you aggressively shush him. “Wha- keep your fuckin’ voice down, asshole! How the fuck do you even know about that?!” You whisper-scream at him, positioning yourself in front of him instead of beside him. 

“Chill out, Cousin, Carmy told Mikey, and Mikey told me,” he shrugged. 

“Mikey told you- so you’ve known this whole fuckin’ ti-” your sentence tapers off at the sight behind Richie. You can feel your heartbeat speed up and your hands begin to shake. “What the fuck is she doing here?” You march off towards the entrance, on a mission.

Richie’s eyebrows pinch together as you stomp away. “Who the fuck are you talkin’ about?” He turns, watching you approach the one party crasher that could ruin this day: the Berzatto family matriarch. “Fuckin’ Donna,” he mutters to himself.

Before you can reach Donna, she’s already shouting into the room. “Oh my God, look at this beautiful Berzatto family event. Oh - everyone’s here!” You can practically hear the incoming drama in the tone of her voice. “Too bad it seems like you motherfuckers forgot to invite me,” she laughs humorlessly. “It’s a good thing Jimmy let it slip to me that Sugar’s baby shower was today. It’s a grandmother’s right to attend her first grandbaby’s baby shower.”

You hold your hands out to her as if she was a wild animal, waiting to strike. “Listen, Donna, you cannot be here right now.” She grabs your arms.

“Oh, Little Red, you used to love coming over to my house. I fed you, housed you when your own parents didn’t want to. You’re so ungrateful… that’s probably where my kids get it from,” she stumbles closer to you, and you can smell the alcohol on her lips. Before you can reply, Carmy is stepping between you guys, taking her hands off of your arms.

“Hey, Ma, that’s enough. Don’t talk to her like that.” His voice is stern, but you can see the tremble in his hands. 

She grabs his face, gently. “Oh, Carmy. I don’t even know you anymore. When was the last time I saw you, huh? You never come to see me.” The tears are flowing freely on her face now. 

You glance behind you, looking at Sugar just in time to see Pete whisking her away to the kitchen, and out of Donna’s line of fire. At the same time, Richie is walking up to Donna. He puts his arm around her and leads her out the door. “C’mon, D, I’ll call you a cab. You should go home and go to sleep.” 

She pushes him off. “Y’know what? Fuck you Richie. Fuck all of you people, you don’t care about me at all. I’ll fuckin’ leave. None of you will miss me anyway.”

You take a step towards them, but Richie holds out a hand in protest. “I got this, Red, don’t worry about it.”

As Donna turns to the door with Richie hot on her heels, you gingerly place your hand on Carmy’s shoulder. “Hey, Carmy, come outside with me,” you slide your hand down his arm, take his hand, and lead the way towards the back door. He doesn’t look up, but follows you closely without saying a word. 

The stark winter air is refreshing, though you’re sure that you’ll regret the decision to come outside without a coat. You pull Carmy down to sit on the cool steps with you, and place your hands on either side of his face. You can feel him hyperventilating as your eyes meet his, his eyes wet with unshed tears. You resist the urge to look away. It’s been years since you’ve helped Carmen through a panic attack, and the memories are almost strong enough to cause your own tears. “Carmy, you have to breathe for me, okay? Here, try to match me.” You begin with the box breathing technique that you learned when you were teenagers. You take a deep breath in. One, two, three, four. Deep breath out. One, two, three, four.

In. One, two, three, four. 

Out. One, two, three, four. 

Carmy’s hands grip yours, hard, as he tries to match your breathing. “Just look at me, Carmy. It’s just you and me here, okay?” He nods and then closes his eyes, feeling the movement of your breath. 

You can’t tell whether it’s just a few moments, or ten minutes before you feel Carmy calm down, but he eventually opens his eyes and his grip on you loosens. You let go abruptly, as if his skin was a hot stove. 

“I- sorry. I’m sorry-” he starts, but you refuse to let him apologize for having a panic attack. 

“Don’t, Carmy. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“I do, though-” he starts again, but you shake your head. 

“C’mon, Carm. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but you know better than to apologize to me for having a panic attack.”

“That’s not- I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you called, either. And I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you when Mikey died.” Oh. 

You can’t help but look away, smoothing away the nonexistent wrinkles in your dress. “Carmen…” you trail off, not knowing what to say. “Let’s just leave it in the past. I think we’ve both been through enough today, yeah? It’s not important anymore.” You give him a tightlipped smile and move to get up.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, grabbing your hand. “No, it is important. I was a jackass. To everyone, but especially to you. I don’t want you to think that you were just- that what we did wasn’t-” he breathes out, running his other hand through his disheveled curls. “You’re important to me, okay?” 

You give his hand one last squeeze before letting go and wrapping your arms around yourself. Whether it’s as an emotional shield or because of the cold, you don’t know, but this is all becoming too much for you. “I know, Carmy. It’s okay, really. We don’t have to talk about it. Actually, I would prefer it if we didn’t. It’s been years, we’ve both moved on. I heard about you and Claire, and I’m happy for you,” you give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and he can instantly tell it isn’t real. “Let’s just pretend none of it ever happened, and we can go back to who we were before. For Sugar’s sake, okay?” You give him a single nod, as if you were agreeing with yourself on his behalf, and go back inside before he can respond. 

He leans back on the step and pulls out a cigarette, before talking to the air: “Okay.”

dividers credit ! <3

[blueiscoool]

Bronze Bust of Roman Emperor Caligula Rediscovered After 200 Years

The small bronze statue, which was unearthed at Herculaneum, had been missing for two centuries

A curator in England has rediscovered a tiny Roman-era bronze bust of the emperor Caligula, which had been missing for some 200 years.

The artifact was unearthed in the mid-18th century at Herculaneum, the ancient town preserved under volcanic ash since Mount Vesuvius’ eruption in 79 C.E. Then, Horace Mann, the British ambassador to Italy, acquired the five-inch-tall statue and gave it to his friend, Horace Walpole, the British writer and politician.

The two friends even exchanged letters about the 2,000-year-old bronze, according to a statement from Strawberry Hill House, Walpole’s Gothic home in London.

“I gaze on it from morning to night. It is more a portrait than any picture I ever saw,” Walpole wrote in 1767. “The hair and ears seem neglected, to heighten the expression of the eyes, which are absolutely divine, and have a wild melancholy in them, that one forebodes might ripen to madness.”

Caligula is infamous for his eccentric and cruel behavior. Legend has it that the emperor was so obsessed with his horse, Incitatus, that he tried to make the animal a consul, though this rumor is likely untrue. His reign, which began in 37 C.E., was erratic. He was assassinated after only four years in power.

Today, only seven other small-scale bronze busts of the emperor are known to exist. When Walpole died in 1797, his Roman bust changed hands several times, with some owners mistaking the visage for Alexander the Great.

Silvia Davoli, a curator at Strawberry Hill, found the lost bust in the family collection of Sir John Henry Schroder, who had purchased it in the 1890s, per the statement.

As a curator of Walpole’s former estate, Davoli was familiar with the politician’s correspondence with Mann and knew of the statue’s existence. She had also seen a drawing of it, which Walpole had commissioned from the artist John Carter. When she came across the bronze in Schroder’s collection, she was able to match it to Carter’s drawing.

Schroder doesn’t appear to have known what the statue was or where it came from. According to Strawberry Hill, the family’s collection catalogs refer to the piece as a “possible Renaissance bronze of a youth.”

“They had no idea it was Caligula,” Davoli tells the Guardian’s Richard Brooks. “I was so happy when I finally saw the bronze and made the link.”

Because the statue hadn’t become discolored over time, experts had previously assumed it dated to the 16th century. However, a recent analysis of the metal confirmed that the bronze is, in fact, ancient.

Dietrich Boschung, an expert on imperial Roman iconography at the University of Cologne in Germany, has since examined photos of the statue.

“I’m convinced it is Caligula,” Boschung tells the Guardian. For him, the statue’s piercing silver eyes are a dead giveaway—a common feature of Roman-era bronzes depicting emperors. He also finds it feasible that the piece was once at Herculaneum. “Around that time, many Roman bronzes were found there,” he adds.

To celebrate the discovery, Strawberry Hill will include the ancient bust in its upcoming exhibition, “The Art of Treasure Hunting.” Visitors can check out the tiny Caligula statue for themselves when the show opens on June 28.

By Julia Binswanger.

[bluenerdtastemaker]

We Miss You.

Esteban Ocon x Pierre Gasly x Charles Leclerc | G-rated | 8.9K

--

warning: none except Esteban name typos. I am sorry and proceed with caution cause I have lost my soul re-edit this fic already. 😭

--

One would say "Don’t give up because your dream will become reality!". But for some, they would say "Don’t give up, because everything will work out someday, even if your dream is forever dream."

--

--

Life does not always go your way, does it? Especially when your dream suddenly becomes just that—a dream, forever out of reach.

“Mr. Ocon, this is Mr. Gasly. He will be the man you will manage for the future.”

And it hurts even more when your best friend, your childhood partner-in-crime, is the one living that dream, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces.

My name is Esteban Ocon. I’m 28 years old, and I am my childhood rival's manager.

--

Esteban had long since perfected the art of masking his emotions. His handshake with Pierre was firm, professional—barely trembling.

Pierre’s familiar blue eyes sparkled, as if to say, Can you believe this? But Esteban could only force a tight smile. He already knew what Pierre would say. It was the same thing he used to say when they were kids, sitting in the stands at Le Mans, dreaming of a future together in F1.

We made it.

Except we hadn’t made it. Only one of them had.

Toto Wolff had saved Esteban. At fifteen, when his family’s caravan leaked in the rain, when his shoes had holes he couldn’t afford to patch, Toto swooped in with a promise: funding, education, a future. But even Toto couldn’t work miracles. Mercedes had no seat for him, no chance to race.

Instead, Toto gave him a job: managing Nico Rosberg. Esteban had never dreamed of this life—lugging schedules, fixing PR disasters, standing on the sidelines as others raced his dream—but it was work. It was steady. His family had a house now. His mother didn’t have to worry about dinner. For the first time, life didn’t feel like a struggle to survive.

And yet, no amount of success in his career could fill the gnawing void inside. He hated himself for the resentment that still festered, for the late nights when he stared at Pierre and Charles’s photos in their race suits, for the way their podiums felt like knives.

By 2024, Esteban Ocon was no stranger to the paddock. He wasn’t the scrappy, desperate teenager Toto Wolff had taken under his wing nearly a decade ago. He was one of the most respected managers in Formula 1, known for his sharp mind, calm demeanor, and ability to handle the most chaotic personalities.

“Gasly,” Esteban murmured, the name catching on his tongue like a thorn. His voice didn’t waver, but inwardly, his chest tightened. Of all the drivers, of all the possibilities—why Pierre?

Pierre Gasly, his childhood best friend turned distant memory. Pierre, who was supposed to be his partner in chasing their shared dream of F1. Pierre, who had made it while Esteban had been left behind, scrambling to make a name for himself in the shadows of the sport.

--

Pierre froze, champagne flute halfway to his lips, the confident smirk he wore like armor slipping just slightly. Of course, he’d heard about Esteban Ocon over the years—how could he not? The man had become one of the most sought-after managers in Formula 1. But Pierre had never imagined, not for a second, that their paths would cross like this.

And yet, here they were.

Esteban didn’t flinch, his expression betraying nothing as he shook hands with Alpine’s team principal. “Looking forward to it,” he said smoothly, his tone professional, as if Pierre wasn’t standing right there, staring at him.

“Gasly,” Esteban said finally, turning to him with a polite smile. It was sharp enough to feel like a slap.

“Ocon,” Pierre replied, his voice tight.

They shook hands, the grip firm but cold. Pierre couldn’t stop himself from looking for cracks in Esteban’s carefully composed façade. There were none. The man in front of him wasn’t the boy Pierre had known—his childhood best friend, his karting partner, the one he’d competed with and against for everything. This Esteban was polished, distant, untouchable.

--

The tension between them was impossible to ignore, though Esteban acted like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“I’ll be in touch with your PR team tomorrow,” Esteban told Pierre after their first meeting, his tone clipped, professional. “I’ll need a detailed schedule and—”

“You’re really going to do this?” Pierre interrupted, his voice low.

Esteban raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Act like we don’t have... history,” Pierre said, his jaw tightening.

Esteban’s expression didn’t change. “We’re professionals, Gasly. That’s all that matters.”

Pierre tried not to let it get to him. He was a driver, after all. His focus was on the car, the track, the next race. But Esteban’s presence was a constant reminder of everything they’d been—and everything they’d lost.

They hadn’t spoken in years, not since their friendship had disintegrated into rivalry. Pierre had gone on to F1, and Esteban... Esteban had disappeared, only to resurface as a rising star in the world of management.

“Never thought you’d end up here,” Pierre said one evening, cornering Esteban after a team briefing.

“And where’s ‘here,’ exactly?” Esteban asked, his voice calm but his eyes hard.

“Managing me,” Pierre said. “After everything.”

Esteban’s lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. “Trust me, Gasly, I didn’t ask for this. But I’m here to do a job, and I’ll do it well. What you think about it doesn’t matter.”

--

Esteban buried himself in work. It was what he did best—organize, strategize, keep things moving. He worked late into the night, assembling Pierre’s media schedule, reviewing footage from past races, and liaising with Alpine’s engineers. Every meeting with Pierre was curt and professional.

There were moments when the awkwardness was almost tangible, like the way Pierre hesitated before signing off on a document or how Esteban carefully avoided making eye contact for too long. But they both kept their distance, unwilling—or unable—to confront what lingered between them.

The paddock wasn’t kind to sentimentality, and Esteban had learned long ago how to suppress his own.

--

By the end of the week, Esteban had just started to find a rhythm. Then Charles Leclerc showed up.

Esteban saw him first, striding down the corridor toward Alpine’s hospitality suite. Charles looked the same as always—bright-eyed and effortlessly charming, his Ferrari-red uniform a stark contrast to the muted blue of Alpine. His smile widened when his gaze landed on Esteban.

“Estie!” Charles exclaimed, his voice cutting through the noise.

Esteban blinked. No one had called him that in years—not since karting days, when Charles, Pierre, and Esteban were inseparable.

Charles didn’t hesitate, pulling Esteban into a quick, warm hug before stepping back. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Esteban froze for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The kindness in Charles’s voice, the familiarity of his nickname—it stirred something he thought he’d buried.

“Leclerc,” he said finally, his tone neutral.

Charles rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “Don’t give me that. We’re not strangers.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” Esteban replied, a touch of bitterness slipping through before he could stop it.

Charles frowned, his smile fading slightly. “Of course, I remember. You, me, and Pierre—we were a team once.”

“That was a long time ago,” Esteban said quietly, glancing away.

“Doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten,” Charles replied, his voice softer now. “I always wondered what happened to you.”

Esteban opened his mouth to respond, but Pierre appeared then, stepping into the suite and interrupting the moment. His gaze flicked between them, his expression unreadable.

“Am I interrupting something?” Pierre asked, his tone casual but sharp enough to cut.

Charles turned to him, his smile returning. “Just catching up with Estie.”

Pierre’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “It’s what I’ve always called him.”

Esteban straightened, slipping back into his professional demeanor. “We should get going, Gasly. You’ve got media duties.”

Pierre didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on Esteban, something unspoken passing between them before he nodded. “Lead the way.”

--

Later, as Esteban reviewed notes in his temporary office, he couldn’t shake the memory of Charles’s words.

I always wondered what happened to you.

It wasn’t like anyone else had asked. He knew Pierre never had, even after they’d drifted apart. And maybe that hurt more than he cared to admit.

Charles had always been the heart of their trio—the glue that held them together when competition and ambition threatened to tear them apart. And even now, years later, he still had a way of making Esteban feel like the kid he used to be: hopeful, determined, unbroken.

For the first time in years, Esteban allowed himself a moment of relief. Maybe he hadn’t completely disappeared from their lives after all.

--

The night was quiet, the Alpine paddock deserted except for a few staff tidying up after the day’s chaos. Charles and Pierre sat in a corner of the hospitality suite, away from prying eyes and listening ears. A bottle of wine sat between them, half-empty, their glasses untouched for the past few minutes.

Pierre stared at the floor, his mind tangled with memories of the past he tried so hard to bury. He hadn’t meant to bring Esteban up, but the mere sight of him—composed and polished—had stirred something. Something complicated.

Charles, always perceptive, broke the silence.

“Esteban’s working with you now, isn’t he?”

Pierre flinched, caught off guard. He swirled the wine in his glass but didn’t drink it. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “Surprise of the season, huh?”

Charles tilted his head, studying Pierre carefully. “You didn’t know?”

“Of course, I didn’t know.” Pierre let out a humorless laugh. “You think they consulted me before assigning him?”

Charles shrugged. “I thought maybe you two had… patched things up.”

Pierre snorted, shaking his head. “Patched things up? I don’t even know what we are anymore, Charles. Best friends? Rivals? Strangers?”

“You tell me.”

Pierre’s hand tightened around his glass. “We haven’t spoken in years. Not since…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “Not since he left.”

Charles hummed softly, leaning back in his chair. “You mean since he didn’t make it to F1 and you did.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. Pierre didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the wine swirling in his glass.

“You still care about him, don’t you?” Charles asked, his tone gentle but direct.

Pierre’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Charles gave him a knowing look, the kind only someone who’d grown up alongside him could pull off. “Come on, Pierre. You’ve been on edge all week. You keep glancing at him during meetings, avoiding him after. And when I mentioned him earlier, you didn’t even deny it.”

Pierre opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He hated how easily Charles could see through him, how he always seemed to know what Pierre was feeling before Pierre himself did.

“It’s complicated,” Pierre said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You used to be inseparable. You, me, and Esteban—always together, always looking out for each other. What happened?”

“Rivalry happened,” Pierre muttered. “We were kids, Charles. Kids who wanted the same thing. And when I got it, and he didn’t…” He trailed off, his throat tightening. “We stopped talking. I didn’t know how to face him, and he didn’t want to be around me.”

Charles nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “And now he’s back in your life, whether you like it or not.”

Pierre let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “He’s different now. He’s… cold. Professional. Like he’s built this wall around himself, and I don’t know how to get past it.”

“Maybe he’s protecting himself,” Charles suggested. “From you, from the sport, from everything that hurt him.”

Pierre looked away, his chest tightening. He hated how much sense that made.

“You still care,” Charles said again, softer this time. “Admit it.”

Pierre didn’t answer, but the silence was enough. Charles smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair.

“Maybe it’s time to stop being rivals,” he said. “And start being friends again.”

Pierre let out a bitter laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Charles admitted. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s you two.”

Pierre didn’t respond, but deep down, he knew Charles was right.

The weeks turned into months, and the dynamic between Esteban and Pierre remained frustratingly professional. Their work together at Alpine HQ was smooth, efficient, and seamless. Pierre was delivering consistent results on track, and Esteban’s reputation as a sharp, effective manager only grew.

But despite their outward success, there was no warmth between them. Their conversations rarely strayed beyond racing strategies or PR obligations, and the unspoken tension between them hung like a heavy curtain.

It wasn’t until a quiet evening at Alpine’s headquarters in Enstone that something unexpected happened.

Esteban was sitting in his office, a neat, minimalist space filled with the hum of his computer. The long hours were nothing new to him; they kept his mind occupied and his emotions at bay. He was reviewing Pierre’s schedule for the upcoming week when the door opened without a knock.

Pierre stepped in, dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, his usual confident demeanor intact. Without saying a word, he placed a small bag on Esteban’s desk.

Esteban glanced up, surprised. “What’s this?”

Pierre shrugged, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Just take it.”

Frowning, Esteban set his laptop aside and opened the bag. Inside was a brightly colored wrapper, unmistakable even after all these years. His breath caught.

The candy.

It was the same candy Pierre had always shared with him when they were kids—back when Esteban couldn’t afford luxuries like this, living out of a leaking caravan with his family. Pierre had never made a big deal of it, always slipping him a piece with a grin as if it were nothing.

“Why are you giving me this?” Esteban asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Pierre’s smirk softened into something more genuine, almost hesitant. “Saw it at a shop the other day. Thought of you.”

Esteban stared at the candy, his chest tightening with a mix of nostalgia and something heavier. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Pierre said quietly. “But I wanted to.”

The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words.

“Do you remember?” Pierre asked, his voice softer now. “How much you loved those? You’d always save them, make them last as long as possible.”

Esteban’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though he kept his gaze on the wrapper. “Yeah, I remember.”

Pierre took a step closer, his tone gentle. “You don’t have to act like we’re strangers, Ocon. Not here. Not with me.”

Esteban’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Pierre sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “This whole... thing. Acting like we don’t know each other when we used to be—” He cut himself off, his expression tightening. “Look, I know things went wrong between us. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Esteban clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping back to the candy. “We’re professionals, Gasly. That’s all that matters.”

“You really believe that?” Pierre asked, his voice low, almost sad. “That it’s all just about the job?”

Esteban didn’t answer. The candy in his hand felt heavier than it should have, the memories it carried weighing down on him.

Finally, he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. The familiar sweetness hit him instantly, the taste unchanged after all these years. For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting himself savor the memory.

“Still good?” Pierre asked, his voice lighter now.

“Still good,” Esteban admitted quietly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in years, the tension between them seemed to ease, just a little. And as Pierre turned to leave, he hesitated at the door. “You’re not as hard to figure out as you think, Esteban,” he said softly before disappearing down the hall.

Esteban sat in his quiet office, the candy melting on his tongue. And for the first time in a long while, the ache in his chest didn’t feel quite so unbearable. Wait, did he said Estaben?

The dynamic between Esteban and Pierre shifted in subtle, almost imperceptible ways over the following weeks. They still called each other "Ocon" and "Gasly," but there was a softness to their interactions now, a lingering in their conversations that hadn't been there before.

Esteban noticed it most in the way Pierre looked at him—how his eyes lingered a little too long during meetings, how his gaze softened when he thought Esteban wasn’t paying attention. It made Esteban’s chest tighten, though he told himself it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

He caught himself looking back just as often, his professional mask slipping more and more with every shared glance. There was something in Pierre’s expression that felt familiar yet foreign, a warmth Esteban hadn’t dared to hope for in years. Longing, maybe? Or was that just wishful thinking?

--

It was during a particularly chaotic weekend at the Austrian Grand Prix that things took another unexpected turn. Esteban had just finished coordinating media obligations for Pierre and was taking a rare moment to breathe in the Alpine hospitality suite when Charles Leclerc walked in, all effortless charm and boyish smiles.

“Estie!” Charles greeted, his voice warm as ever, the nickname slipping out as easily as it had years ago.

Esteban stiffened, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard. Charles didn’t care—he never had—and it was one of the reasons Esteban had always liked him, even if his openness could be overwhelming.

“Charles,” Esteban said, nodding politely.

“I was looking for you,” Charles said, ignoring the stiff formality. He leaned casually against the table, glancing over at Pierre, who was talking to some engineers a few feet away. “We’re flying back to Monaco tonight on my jet. You should join us.”

Esteban blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“My jet,” Charles repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You and Pierre can come. There’s plenty of space.”

Esteban hesitated, his mind racing. For months, he’d taken regular commercial flights after races, returning to his modest routine while Pierre occasionally joined Charles on his private jet. The two of them had always been close, their friendship easy and unshakable in a way Esteban could never quite relate to.

“I don’t know...” Esteban began, but Charles cut him off with a laugh.

“Oh, come on, Estie. It’s about time you joined us. You work too hard. Besides, I already told Pierre, and he didn’t object.”

Esteban glanced over at Pierre, who had finished his conversation and was now walking toward them. His expression was unreadable, but when Charles brought up the jet again, Pierre simply shrugged. “It’s up to you, Ocon.”

The way Pierre said it—calm, almost indifferent—grated on Esteban’s nerves. But there was something else in his tone, something subtle, like he was daring Esteban to say yes.

“Fine,” Esteban said before he could overthink it.

Charles beamed, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit!”

--

The flight back to Monaco was calm at first, the soft hum of the engines filling the luxurious cabin. Esteban sat by the window, his eyes fixed on the darkening sky, while Charles and Pierre exchanged light banter across the aisle. It was peaceful—too peaceful.

“Do you remember that karting race in Lyon?” Charles asked suddenly, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “The one where you crashed into me?”

Pierre groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You always bring that up! It wasn’t my fault—you cut the corner!”

“I won that race, didn’t I?” Charles shot back, his tone smug.

“Barely.”

Esteban couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. For months, he had observed them from a distance—behind glass walls in Alpine HQ, in the paddock, during debriefs. They always seemed so natural together, their banter easy and familiar. Now, up close, it was even more intense.

“You were so smug that day,” Pierre added, pointing at Charles. “You couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks.”

Charles laughed, a genuine, infectious sound that made Esteban’s chest ache. “Because I beat both of you. Admit it, Ocon, you were pissed.”

Esteban blinked, startled to be brought into the conversation. He glanced at Charles, whose smile was warm and teasing.

“I was annoyed,” Esteban admitted. “But only because you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“See?” Pierre said, gesturing to Esteban like he’d just proved a point. “He gets it!”

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling. “And yet, you still came back the next weekend, ready to lose again.”

“Bold words,” Esteban shot back, surprising even himself with the sharpness in his tone.

Pierre laughed, low and genuine, and something in Esteban’s chest twisted. He looked away, trying to steady himself, but then Charles leaned closer, his elbow brushing against Esteban’s arm.

The three of them fell into a rhythm, their conversation flowing naturally for the first time in years. Esteban was cautious at first, unsure of where he fit between them, but Pierre and Charles were persistent, pulling him into their memories, their jokes, their world.

And that’s when it hit him.

It wasn’t just the way they spoke to each other, the easy back-and-forth that came from years of familiarity. It was the way they looked at each other—Pierre’s gaze softening when Charles laughed, the subtle brush of Charles’s hand against Pierre’s arm as he made a point. It was in the way they existed together, a quiet intimacy that Esteban had tried not to notice for months.

But now he couldn’t ignore it.

Oh, Esteban thought, his stomach sinking.

Oh, no.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. Of Charles’s arm still resting against his. Of the way Pierre’s gaze flicked to him every so often, like he was checking to make sure Esteban was still part of the conversation.

Oh, no.

It wasn’t just them. It was him, too.

He’d caught himself staring before, watching them through the glass walls of the paddock, wondering what it would feel like to step into their world. He’d told himself it was just envy—that he missed the camaraderie, the closeness they used to share. But now, with Charles laughing beside him and Pierre’s eyes lingering on his, Esteban felt the weight of something far more complicated.

Oh, shit.

The realization hit him like a freight train. He had feelings for them. Both of them.

Esteban swallowed hard, his throat dry. He forced himself to focus on the conversation, but his mind was racing. How long had this been building? How had he not noticed?

“And what about you, Estie?” Charles asked suddenly, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Esteban blinked, his heart pounding. “What?”

“What was your favorite karting memory?” Charles asked, tilting his head. His smile was soft now, more curious than teasing.

Esteban hesitated, glancing between them. Pierre’s expression was unreadable, but there was a quiet intensity in his gaze that made Esteban’s pulse quicken.

“I don’t know,” Esteban said finally, his voice quieter than he intended. “Probably the time I managed to beat both of you.”

Pierre snorted. “That happened once.”

“And I made sure to savor it,” Esteban shot back, his lips twitching despite himself.

Charles laughed, and for a moment, the tension in Esteban’s chest eased. But as the conversation continued, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the way his heart ached every time they looked at each other—or at him.

--

At some point, Charles got up to grab a drink, leaving Esteban and Pierre alone.

“Comfortable?” Pierre asked, his voice low.

Esteban glanced at him, surprised. “It’s fine.”

Pierre’s lips twitched, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, his eyes lingering on Esteban a little too long.

Esteban looked away, his heart pounding. What was he supposed to do with that? With Pierre looking at him like... like he mattered?

“Thanks for coming,” Pierre said suddenly, his tone softer.

Esteban frowned, turning back to him. “Why are you thanking me? It was Charles who invited me.”

Pierre shrugged, his gaze steady. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to say yes.”

Esteban opened his mouth to respond, but Charles returned, plopping down at his seat and breaking the moment.

As the jet continued its journey, Esteban couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted again—something he wasn’t sure he was ready for. But as Pierre’s, and now Charles's gaze met his across the cabin, that unspoken warmth still there, Esteban wondered if he was already in too deep to stop it.

By the time the jet landed in Monaco, Esteban felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Whatever this was—this tangled mess of old friendships, rivalry, and newfound feelings—it was going to destroy him.

--

The days after the flight were brutal. Esteban tried to convince himself he was overreacting, that this was just a passing phase of misguided longing. But every time he saw Pierre and Charles together, laughing in a way that felt too intimate, too familiar, the knot in his chest tightened.

And then he saw it—confirmation, the thing he had tried to avoid acknowledging.

It was a quiet moment in the Alpine hospitality, long after most of the team had gone home for the night. Esteban had returned to grab a document he’d forgotten, only to pause when he saw them through the glass wall of Pierre’s office.

Charles was leaning against Pierre’s desk, his arms crossed, a soft smile on his face as Pierre spoke. The air between them was charged in a way that wasn’t platonic, their body language closer, more comfortable than friends typically allowed. And then, just as Esteban told himself to look away, Charles reached out, brushing a hand against Pierre’s cheek, and Pierre leaned into the touch.

Oh, they’re together.

The realization hit him harder than he expected, an ache settling deep in his chest. Of course, they were together. It made sense. They fit. They understood each other in ways Esteban would never fully grasp.

He turned and walked away before they could notice him, the tightness in his chest growing heavier with every step.

--

The following weeks were hell. Esteban threw himself into his work, keeping interactions with Pierre as brief and professional as possible. He stopped lingering in Alpine’s hospitality and made excuses to avoid any gatherings where Charles might be present. It was easier to stay away, easier to keep his feelings locked up tight where they couldn’t hurt anyone.

But Pierre noticed.

“Ocon, you’ve been avoiding me,” Pierre said one afternoon, cornering him after a debrief.

“I’ve been busy,” Esteban replied curtly, not meeting his eyes.

Pierre frowned, crossing his arms. “Too busy to even grab a coffee? We used to talk, you know. What’s going on?”

Esteban clenched his jaw, keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let Pierre see the cracks in his armor.

“Nothing’s going on,” he said stiffly. “I’m here to do a job, Gasly. That’s all.”

Pierre’s eyes narrowed, the frustration evident on his face, but he didn’t press further. Esteban left before he could say something he’d regret.

The worst part wasn’t the avoidance or the guilt; it was the way his feelings refused to go away, no matter how hard he tried to bury them. Every time he saw Pierre smile, every time Charles laughed, every time they stood too close, the ache in his chest grew sharper.

He felt like a homewrecker, even though he’d done nothing to act on his feelings. Just the knowledge that he felt this way was enough to make him hate himself.

And yet, despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to fully pull away. Some part of him still craved their presence, still wanted to be part of their world, even if it meant tearing himself apart from the inside out.

--

One night, after another long day at the paddock, Esteban found himself sitting alone in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling. The thoughts he’d been avoiding all day came rushing in, hitting him like a tidal wave.

You’re ruining this.

You’re going to destroy what they have.

They’re happy. You don’t belong in this.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the spiral. He needed to get over this. He needed to move on.

But how could he, when every interaction with them—every stolen glance, every accidental brush of hands—only made his feelings stronger?

--

The weeks after the realization were suffocating. Esteban’s attempts to distance himself were starting to feel like living in a glass box—he could see them, but they were untouchable, unreachable. Every time Pierre looked at him, it was with an unspoken question, but Esteban couldn’t meet his gaze. Every time Charles smiled at him, it felt like a dagger wrapped in warmth.

He couldn’t stand it. The tension had thickened between them like an unspoken barrier, and Esteban had built walls around himself that even he couldn’t break down. It wasn’t just avoidance anymore; it was an inability to be in the same space without feeling like he was suffocating. He couldn’t look at Pierre without remembering their shared past, the way they’d been inseparable—until they weren’t. He couldn’t look at Charles without knowing that the warmth he once felt for him was now something unrecognizable, a twisted version of what used to be friendship.

His life felt like a delicate balance between duty and overwhelming pain. He tried to focus on work, but his mind would inevitably wander to the same thoughts, the same unanswered questions. Could he keep going like this? Could he really continue managing Pierre, knowing how deeply he cared? Could he continue watching the dynamic between the two of them, knowing that he was now the outsider?

As the summer break rolled around, Esteban couldn't help but feel like he could finally exhale. The constant tension that had plagued him for months seemed to lift with the final race before the break. The distant walls he’d put up between himself, Pierre, and Charles felt almost suffocating at times. But now, he had a rare opportunity to escape. The relentless pressure, the unspoken words, the weight of emotions he'd been avoiding—it all seemed to fade as soon as the words "summer break" were uttered.

For the first time in months, Esteban felt free. He was finally going home. Back to the place where everything felt simpler. He’d booked a flight using his Air France star points, splurging on a business class seat, a luxury he rarely allowed himself. He needed the space, the comfort, and the time to think.

The hum of the plane, the smooth motion as they soared above the clouds, was a welcome relief. Esteban leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, letting the cool air of the cabin wash over him. He'd be home soon, surrounded by familiar faces, by his family. A place where no one expected him to be anyone other than Esteban—no complex relationships, no overwhelming dynamics to navigate. For once, he could just be.

--

Little did he know that the demons of his life—Pierre and Charles—weren’t done with him.

--

Two days had passed since Esteban had arrived back home, and the familiar scent of his childhood home, the sound of the ticking clock in the living room, and the quiet hum of his parents' house felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. His parents were still away for work, so he had the entire place to himself. For the first time in months, Esteban allowed himself to relax, truly unwind. The pressure of the season had lifted, and for now, he was just Esteban—no racing, no drama, no complicated relationships.

That is, until the bell at the door rang.

Esteban jolted, his body frozen in the middle of a bite from his breakfast cereal. He hadn’t expected visitors. Not today. He had expected the quiet of his hometown, where he could sleep in late and not worry about anyone showing up unannounced. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone, especially not Pierre and Charles. Not in this quiet little town where everyone knew everyone, and he wore his panda pajamas for the first time in months—those soft, fuzzy, ridiculous pajamas his mom bought him when he was a kid. They were so embarrassing that only his parents ever saw him in them, but today, Esteban didn’t care. They were comfortable, and he needed that comfort more than anything.

As he stood up, the doorbell rang again, and he cursed under his breath. He could hear the faint voices outside, and before he could even prepare himself, he heard footsteps approaching the door.

He quickly threw down his spoon, still in disbelief at the situation, before looking around the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do. But there was nothing he could do. His heart sank.

He quickly padded to the front door in his panda pajamas, knowing full well who stood on the other side. His gut twisted. There was no way. His attempt at isolation was over, and in the most inner Esteban way possible, it was his childhood pajamas that would be his undoing.

Taking a deep breath, he swung the door open.

And there they were.

Pierre stood there, looking as casual as always, but there was something different in the way his eyes narrowed at Esteban’s appearance. Charles, on the other hand, had a grin that spoke volumes. It was that grin. The one Esteban used to see every time they both cornered him into a conversation about things they never fully said out loud.

Esteban felt like he was about to combust from the sheer awkwardness of the moment, his cheeks burning, his mind scrambling for something to say.

--

Pierre stood at the door, his hand still resting lightly on the handle. He had expected many things when he arrived in Esteban's hometown—he hadn’t expected to be greeted by this.

Esteban opened the door, looking somewhat disheveled, but what caught Pierre off guard was the sight of him standing there in panda pajamas. The fuzzy black-and-white onesie, complete with little ears and a tail, was the kind of thing Esteban would only ever wear when he thought no one would see him. And apparently, he was right—no one was supposed to see him dressed like that.

Pierre blinked, his mind briefly short-circuiting as he stared at his manager in total disbelief. He’d always known Esteban was a bit of a dork, but this? This was something else entirely.

His lips twitched, fighting against the grin that was threatening to break free. His first instinct was to tease Esteban, but he couldn't help but let out a soft laugh before quickly catching himself.

“Well, that’s... a look,” Pierre finally said, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Nice pajamas, Ocon.”

Esteban, clearly embarrassed, shifted awkwardly, his cheeks flushing. "I—uh, it's just for at home," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of Pierre’s gaze. "Not for public consumption."

Charles, standing beside Pierre, let out a quiet chuckle, clearly enjoying the situation. "Should’ve known."

Pierre couldn’t hold it in any longer. He chuckled fully, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Esteban just stood there, mortified, tugging at the sleeves of the onesie as though he could make it disappear. Pierre couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Esteban look so utterly flustered, and honestly, it was adorable.

But as much as he wanted to tease Esteban more, something in his expression changed. There was a tension behind those wide eyes, something deeper than just embarrassment. Pierre took a step forward, feeling that familiar weight settle in his chest. They weren’t just here to poke fun at Esteban’s pajamas. This was something else.

Pierre sobered up, his playful grin softening as he met Esteban’s gaze, still standing there in the doorway. "We came to talk, Esteban," he said, his voice quieter now, his usual teasing edge replaced with something a little more serious.

Esteban blinked at him, clearly thrown off by the sudden change in tone. "What do you want, Gasly?"

But Pierre didn’t break eye contact, sensing the walls Esteban had put up. "About you," he said simply. "About everything."

Charles, meanwhile, leaned casually against the doorframe, his grin more subdued now. “We’ve been patient, Estie, but you’ve been avoiding us long enough.”

Pierre could tell that Esteban was trying to keep it together, but the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the way his gaze flickered nervously, told Pierre all he needed to know. They had pushed him too far, and now there was no turning back.

“You’re not getting away from this,” Pierre added softly, his voice almost too gentle.

Esteban’s face tightened. Pierre couldn’t tell if it was frustration, guilt, or something else entirely, but it was there—clear as day. And in that moment, Pierre realized that all the time they’d spent together, all the moments they’d shared, had led to this. To this conversation, in the doorway of Esteban’s childhood home, with the most ridiculous, adorable pajamas on display for both of them to see.

Pierre didn’t want to be the one to break Esteban, but he knew they couldn’t go on pretending anymore. Not after everything they’d been through. Not after everything that had been left unsaid.

Finally, Esteban sighed, his posture sagging, as if he’d given up on fighting it. He stepped back, letting them inside. "Fine," he muttered. "Come in, then. But you better not make fun of my pajamas."

Pierre and Charles exchanged a quick look, both holding back grins at the same time, and then stepped inside, closing the door behind them. The tension still hung in the air, thick and heavy, but it was clear now: the conversation had started, and there was no going back.

--

Esteban stood in the kitchen, the kettle whistling softly as he poured the hot water into the teapot. He could hear the quiet shuffle of footsteps behind him, the sound of Pierre’s voice low and soft as he explored the house, and Charles’ occasional laughter as he flipped through an old album.

He stole a glance at the rearview mirror in his home (don’t ask why it is in the house), his gaze unintentionally drifting to the living room. He saw Pierre standing in front of a photo on the wall, one that featured the three of them, years ago—young, naive, and full of promise. A picture from before everything fell apart. Before he lost everything that mattered, before he became a shadow of the person he once was.

He watched Pierre’s fingers hover over the frame, almost as if he was tracing the contours of their past with his eyes. The picture had always been a reminder of how far they had come, of how much had changed, but now it felt like a dagger to Esteban’s heart. It wasn’t the first time Pierre had seen this photo, but it was the first time in this home—the one they had never visited, the one that had come after everything.

Esteban closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. How long had it been since they all last spoke in home? Years? He couldn’t even remember anymore. The whole thing—the crash, the collapse of his career, the split from everything—had become a blur. And now, here they were, standing in his new home, a far cry from the days when they’d been inseparable, when everything had seemed possible.

His parents were away, working like they always were, and Esteban couldn’t help but feel a bit lost. He needed them right now, more than ever. But instead, he was left alone with his thoughts, with Pierre and Charles in the next room. And he couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to turn his world upside down.

As he busied himself with making tea, his mind raced. He wanted this to be a quiet, easy evening. A simple summer break where he could curl up on the couch, binge-watch Netflix, and forget about everything for a while. But instead, he was about to confront the wreckage of his past, the things he had avoided for so long.

His hands shook slightly as he poured the tea, trying to keep himself calm. God, he wasn’t ready for this. Not yet. He just wanted to bury his head in the sand, but he knew that wasn’t going to work. They were here for a reason. They had come to settle things, to talk about everything they had avoided.

Finally, he walked back into the living room, setting the tray of tea down on the table. Pierre and Charles were both sitting on the couch now, looking at him with quiet, expectant gazes. They were so calm, so collected, and it made Esteban feel even more nervous. He took his seat, his eyes darting nervously between them, before finally settling on Pierre.

“Tea,” Esteban muttered, his voice soft, as he sat down. “It’s not much, but it’s... it’s something.”

Pierre’s gaze softened as he accepted the cup, but Esteban could see the concern lingering in his eyes. There was something different about him now—something that made Esteban feel small and vulnerable. He had been through so much, and yet, Pierre was here, looking at him like he still mattered.

“So,” Charles started, breaking the silence. “We’ve... been thinking about you a lot, Esteban. You know that, right?”

Esteban swallowed hard, his throat dry. He nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He wasn’t sure he could.

“You’ve been kind of... absent, you know?” Pierre continued, his voice gentle but firm. “Not just in work, but in our lives. We’ve missed you.”

Esteban bit his lip, his heart racing in his chest. The words they were saying were sinking in slowly, but he couldn’t let himself believe them. Not yet. He was afraid to.

“We didn’t just know you as a manager,” Pierre said, his voice growing softer, more vulnerable. “We knew you more than that. You were always there for us.”

Esteban felt his chest tighten, the words slicing through him like a blade. The lump in his throat grew bigger, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. He was just Esteban Ocon, the guy who had been left behind. The guy who had nothing.

“We tried to make it right,” Charles said, his voice full of guilt. “We wanted to... we wanted to be with you again, back in our lives. We couldn’t... we couldn’t just leave it like this.”

Pierre nodded, his eyes intense and full of something Esteban couldn’t quite name. “We even thought about going to Mercedes, just for you. We didn’t care about anything. We just wanted to see you again.”

Esteban’s heart stopped. Mercedes. He had been so far removed from everything that he hadn’t even realized that they had thought of him like that. They had come so close, and yet... And yet they were still here. Still, somehow, a part of his life.

“You became a manager, Esteban,” Pierre continued, his voice now tinged with warmth. “And when we found out you were working with me, it was like... like everything came full circle. We wanted you back in our lives, not just as a manager, but as... as... As someone we care about.”

Esteban could feel the tears starting to well up in his eyes, his face flushing as he struggled to keep himself together. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Not like this. He hadn’t expected any of this, especially not from Pierre and Charles. But there they were, telling him that they still cared.

That they missed him.

Esteban’s chest tightened as the tears continued to flow, his heart racing with the overwhelming flood of emotions. He could feel Pierre and Charles surrounding him, their arms comforting, their presence grounding him, but there was an unspoken tension that lingered in the room—one that made his throat constrict even more.

As Pierre’s hand gently rubbed his back, Esteban felt a strange heat in his chest, a mix of longing, guilt, and confusion. The warmth of their embrace felt too familiar, yet too foreign all at once. His mind was racing—too many thoughts were fighting for attention. His feelings for both of them, for what they had shared, for the spaces they once occupied in his life—it was all so much to process.

“I—” Esteban’s voice cracked as he pulled away slightly, wiping his eyes, still not trusting himself to meet their gazes directly. “I didn’t think... I didn’t know you two were—”

Pierre’s hand, still resting on his back, paused for a moment before he spoke softly, his tone steady but tender. “We’re together, Esteban. We’ve been together for a while now.”

Esteban’s heart skipped a beat, and the weight of their words hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d suspected something had been different between Pierre and Charles, especially lately—something had shifted in their dynamic. But hearing it, hearing it confirmed out loud, left him momentarily breathless. His stomach churned with a mixture of disbelief and something deeper—something he was still too scared to face.

Charles, sensing Esteban’s hesitation, leaned in a little closer, his voice gentle. “We know you’ve been... distant. And we’ve seen the way you look at us, Esteban. The way your gaze lingers when we’re together. We’re not blind.”

Esteban’s face flushed crimson, his mind reeling. He had thought he had been subtle, or at least that his feelings for them had remained unspoken. But clearly, he had been wrong. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched the edges of his tea cup.

“You don’t have to be scared or hide it, Esteban,” Pierre added quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “We know you have feelings. We know what you’ve been going through. And we... we want you to be with us, too. We want you to be a part of this.”

Esteban’s heart skipped again, and he swallowed hard, trying to process their words. He had always felt a pull toward them—both of them, in different ways—but he had never allowed himself to acknowledge it. He had buried those feelings, buried the longing that he thought could never be reciprocated. But now, sitting there with Pierre and Charles, he realized that maybe he had been wrong.

“But—” Esteban started, struggling to find the right words. “But I don’t... I don’t want to ruin anything. I don’t want to... make things complicated. You two are already together, and I don’t know if... if I could—”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything, Esteban,” Charles interrupted softly, his hand gently brushing against Esteban’s. “We’ve missed you so much. And we care about you—more than just as a friend. We always have. This isn’t about complicating things. It’s about us, together, and wanting you to be a part of it.”

Pierre nodded, his eyes softening. “We want you, Esteban. We want all of you. We always have. Don’t you see? It’s not just about us being a couple. It’s about us, the three of us. The bond we had. The one we’ve always shared. It’s still there. And we want to bring you back into that. We’re ready if you are.”

Esteban’s heart raced, a sudden wave of dizziness sweeping over him. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected them to want him, to want this. The idea of being with Pierre and Charles, the men he had spent years with, the men who had become his family despite everything that had happened... it was almost too much to process.

He stared down at his hands, still trembling. His mind felt foggy, his thoughts swirling. He couldn’t tell if he was dreaming, or if this was real. But in the pit of his stomach, he knew that this was more than just an offer to be close again—it was an invitation. An invitation to love, to trust, to share something deeper than just a friendship.

“I—” Esteban’s voice faltered. “I don’t know what to say... I never thought this... I never thought you would—”

“We are saying it,” Pierre interrupted gently, his thumb brushing Esteban’s knuckles. “We want you, Esteban. We’ve always wanted you.”

And just like that, the walls Esteban had carefully constructed around his heart seemed to crumble. His tears, which had started as a quiet flow, began to pour out again, this time with a sense of release. It wasn’t just the weight of his fears anymore—it was the weight of everything he had held back, everything he had kept from them.

The love they spoke of, the love they shared, was so much bigger than he had imagined. It was a love that wasn’t confined by the boundaries of their past, by the pain or the distance. It was a love that could embrace all three of them, if they let it.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Esteban allowed himself to believe it. To believe that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t too far gone. That the three of them—Pierre, Charles, and Esteban—could find a way back to each other. That they could rebuild what had been broken and make something even more beautiful from it.

As Esteban finally nodded, allowing himself to believe in the possibility of something more, Pierre and Charles both reached out, their hands hovering for a moment as if unsure. The air between them was heavy with unspoken words, but there was a softness now, a tentative understanding. Then, without another word, they both moved in, their arms wrapping around Esteban in a tight, almost protective hug.

Esteban, still unsure whether this was real, melted into the embrace. His heart raced, but in a way that felt comforting, not anxious. He was squeezed gently between the two athletes, their bodies solid and warm, contrasting sharply with his own smaller frame. His panda onesie, the one he had worn for years to seek comfort, suddenly felt even more absurd, but also oddly perfect in the moment. It was soft, worn, and innocent—a stark contrast to the rough callouses of Pierre and Charles' hands. The feeling of their hands pressing against the fabric, the roughness of their skin against the softness of the onesie, made him feel vulnerable in a way that was strangely reassuring.

As they pulled him into the hug, Esteban felt how small he was in comparison to them. Pierre’s broad chest and Charles’ muscular frame dwarfed him. He felt the difference in their heights, the way his own thin neck seemed to disappear between the two, his body feeling smaller, almost fragile between their strength. Pierre’s head rested just above his, the heat from his body radiating into Esteban’s, while Charles’ chin was nearly on top of Esteban’s head. Their bodies framed his, and in that space, Esteban felt like he was both insignificant and the most important person in the world at the same time.

He tried to bury his face into the softness of Pierre’s shoulder, but even then, he could feel the contrast between his thin neck and the solid muscle of Pierre’s, and then the roughness of Charles' collarbone against his cheek. The physical distance that had once felt so insurmountable now felt like a comfortable, solid presence, as if they had closed the gap that had stretched between them for years.

"Esteban," Pierre murmured, his voice muffled but tender as his hand gently cupped the back of Esteban’s head. "You’re not alone anymore."

Charles, his voice soft but steady, added, "We’re here. All of us. Together."

Esteban closed his eyes, letting their warmth seep into him, the once-hidden fears slowly starting to dissipate in the embrace. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to feel cared for, loved, and maybe—just maybe—he felt like he finally belonged.

His voice cracked as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "I never thought I could have this again... not after everything."

Pierre squeezed him tighter, his other hand brushing lightly against Esteban’s back in reassurance. "We’ve always had this, Esteban. We just didn’t know how to see it."

And for that moment, with the soft warmth of the hug enveloping him, Esteban allowed himself to believe in it—the love, the possibility, the future they could share. Even as the weight of the past hung heavy in his chest, the three of them, standing together in his small, humble home, felt like the beginning of something new.

The contrast between Esteban’s smaller, slender frame and their sturdy, muscular bodies felt strangely fitting. As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the bond that had always been there between them seemed stronger than ever before. In the safety of this moment, the outside world seemed so far away, and all that mattered was the connection between the three of them.

For the first time in a long while, Esteban didn’t feel like he was running away from anything anymore. He was finally home.

[papajscupcake]

DON’T START SOMETHING YOU CAN’T FINISH DARLING

DON’T START SOMETHING YOU CAN’T FINISH DARLING | DAD!RAFECAMERON X MOMFEM!READER | IMAGINE

PAIRING: Dad!rafecameron x momfem!reader

SUMMARY: Rafe comes back from work and is welcomed home by his beautiful family

WORD COUNT: 1982

WARNING(S): they are aged up Rafe is 29 and reader is 28, just a lot of fluffy stuff and some suggestive comments

It was the beautiful sunny afternoon, the window’s were wide open letting in a gentle breeze to cool down the warm air of the home, The echo of the beach waves and the gentle rattle of trees and the sound of a Moana playing on the tv was being heard.

The 6 month pregnant woman laid on the couch with her hands playing with the ends of her 12 year old son’s light brown shaggy hair who was sleeping comfortably on her baby bump

The woman’s eyes were either watching her four year old daughter playing with her toys and or drawing on a piece of paper or the mother had her eyes closed resting like her son.

A small smile rests on the mother’s face watching the young blonde haired girl’s mouth gawk open as she gets engrossed in the movie Moana, a movie she has watched since she was a baby.

The woman glances at the clock on the wall, it was twenty minutes before Rafe would get back from work so with that she ran her hand on her son’s shoulder making him stir awake and look up to his mom with tired eyes.

“Sorry to wake you honey, but I need to get up”He yawned and dug his head further into her

“I can’t I’m comfortable”He muttered making the woman chuckle at the boy knowing that he has got it from his father who loves to use that as an excuse to not get up in the mornings

“You are just like your father”She commented as her son got off her and went to the other side of the couch before falling asleep again,

the woman sat up and pulled herself off the couch a hand cradling her stomach as she does so, her daughter turns her head at the sounds of her moving mother now forgotten about the movie playing

“Mommy where you go?”She asks innocently, the woman smiles and places a hand on her daughter’s blondish brown haired head

“I’m gonna make dinner, do you want to help?”The young girl eagerly nodded and abandoned the small Turtle toy her Aunt Kiara gave her and took her mom’s hand practically dragging the woman to the kitchen making her chuckle at her daughter’s excitement she had received from spending to much time with her uncle JJ.

“What we make mommy?”The infant asks rolling up the sleeves of her pretty red dress which was made by her aunt

“What would you want to have sweetheart?”She asked as she watched the infant drag over the small stepping stool she uses when she bakes with her mother

“Chicken daddy got!” She exclaimed as she made a drumming noise when she was tapping her hands on the counter the pregnant woman smiles and walked to the fridge , the younger girl cheered and clapped her hands as she watch her mom take out the chicken once the two gathered the ingredients they began to cook their meal for four well technically five

after a few minutes the eldest child couldn’t resist the callings of his little sister begging for him to join so groggily but with a smile to disguise his foul tired mood from his baby sister and began to help prepare the meal.

Rafe’s POV:

Once walking though the door of his families home, the smell of cooking chicken and home made potato wedges comes flooding into his nose, the man of the house licks his lips at the thought of the nicely prepared meal his wife of ten years had made, dumping his keys onto the shelf next to the front door and kicking his shoes off then shuffling to pull off his jacket

He makes his way through the rather big house for his liking but his father insisted that they should have a big home like Rafe did for the children to grow up in,

finally he catches the glimpse of his daughter running to the other side of the kitchen as her little feet patter along the hard wood floor he chuckled to himself as he followed the light chatter of his wife giving instructions to their son and small ‘be careful’s’ to their daughter who had practically leaped onto the small stepping stool from her previous hurried steps

finally making it to the kitchen the sight that is presented in front of him is his wife’s and son’s back to him and his daughter that’s was once on the stepping stool was now sitting comfortably on the counter

“what are you doing up there missy?”Rafe asked his daughter with a fake scolding tone the three of them turn and face him the youngest girl’s face lights up like a million fireflies at the sight of her father

“Daddy!”She exclaimed rushing to get off the counter which her older brother helps her to by lifting her up and down to the ground then back to stirring the peas and carrots in the pot onto of the hob

the young girl’s feet once again pattered along the floor and straight towards her daddy who had his arms wide open for her and bent down to her small and cute height the girl practically leaped into his arm almost knocking the wind out of his lungs

“oft! My favourite babygirl, oh you are so beautiful give daddy kisses”he exclaimed standing up while practically suffocating his daughter in little kisses which made his daughter giggle ecstatically trying to push his face away from hers

“daddy no more kisses!” She exclaimed happily trying to hide her face in the plam of her little hands

“oh but I missed you so so much baby girl”The man told his daughter beginning to make his way to the kitchen

“I missed you too daddy”the young girl mumbled and snuggled into the crook of his neck, He smiles and rest his head on hers as he walks into the kitchen and shuffles behind his son who was still stirring the pot of vegetables the father puts ruffling his hair as he passed him, his son turns his head to glance at his father and gives him a little smile

“Hi dad”He greeted before turning back to the cooking vegetables Rafe lent down and placed a kiss on his head

“Hey buddy”Rafe said and walked up his wife who’s back was facing him, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder

“Hello my love”he whispered into her ear pressing a kiss on the side of her neck

“Hey handsome”His wife smiled giving him a love filled gaze and looked back to the gravy she was making

“how is my lovely family doing today?”He asked out loud for his family to hear

“good! We make chicken you got- oh me made you something daddy!”The young girl gasped and wriggled out her father’s grip running out the kitchen

“mama the vegetables are done”Their son said making the woman turn around to face him Rafe followed suit with his body still tightly pressed against hers both his arms now around her slowly growing waist

“oh thank you honey, you can go back to sleep for about ten minutes before dinner”Their son nodded putting down the wet wooden spoon and practically skipped to the living room to sleep on the couch making the woman laugh at her son and look in the pot making sure her son was correct about the cooking food which he was

“what are you laughing at?”Rafe asked his wife turning her body around to face him making her automatically put her arms around his neck pushing her body closer to his as much as should could with the baby bump

“Nothing Love”She smiled and leaned up to his face puckering her lips before pressing a kiss onto his lips

He sinks into the kiss bringing a hand from her waist to her cheek pulling her closer to deepen the kiss after a moment they both pull away smiling almost giddily at each other, Rafe runs his thumb along the side of her jaw taken in every detail on her face the beautiful face he has already memorised

“You are so perfectly beautiful”Rafe whispered running his thumb along her cheek the woman smiled shyly feeling her cheeks warm up making her feel embarrassed and push her face into his neck

“Stopppp!” She whined into his neck making Rafe laugh and bring the hand that was previously on her cheek on to the back of her head and play with the hair of her head

“Aw you’ve gone all shy?! You are beautiful and adorable what a win for me!” Rafe teased causing her groan and hit his chest keeping her face in the crook of his neck the makes Rafe laugh more and kiss the top of her head the sound of hurried and loud patter of steps echo through the house coming from the top off the stairs

“You’re a mean idiot”She mumbled into his ear and giving it a little bite making yelp slightly at the action she giggles and break apart from their intimate hug and face the direction of the little stomps coming down the stairs

“You—you little…you just bit me!”Rafe whispered shouted

“yep deal with it sucker”Rafe gasped and went to say something but their daughter footsteps had finished Descending from the stairs trampling towards the room Rafe’s hand rests itself onto her waist and gives it a small pinch making her squeal and glare at the side of Rafe’s head with a little smile on her face

“oh it’s on country club” she whispered and smiled to her self beginning to think of ways to kick his ass in this little game Rafe glanced at his wife lifting an eyebrow at her and a little smirk rest its self on his Lips

“don’t start something you can’t finish darling” he mumbled leaning down to her ear she side eyed him and smirked a new upcoming confidence runs through her body

“or maybe don’t continue something you don’t know how to stop, Darling”she commented now raising her eye brown in question, Rafe’s eyes slightly widen at his wife’s new dominate nature

“what has gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining because this is so sexy”He leaned his head down to her neck and pressed a hungry seductive kiss that might make a little mark on her neck

“I think dinner is not the only thing I’ll eat ton-“He went to continue to whisper in her ear but their daughter charges into the room with a piece of paper clutched in her hand making the man give her neck one last kiss and pull away from her smiling at his daughter

“LOOK! Daddy me made this for you!”the young girl exclaimed failing to recognise her parent’s recent not so child-friendly game the young girl shoved the white paper into his body and bent down with overwhelming excitement with a massive smile plastered on her face and her arms curled into her chest trying to suppress all her energy

Rafe crouches down to her height and tapped his leg telling her to sit on his lap which she did instantly and comfortably sat herself onto his large thigh

“what is this baby girl?”Rafe asked putting a hand on her back making sure she wouldn’t fall off his leg the girl instantly began to point to each person and explain who it was and how she drew them while Rafe listened to every word intensely His wife placed a hand on his head playing with the small hairs of his buzz cut style head watching the way the love of her life interacts with her beautiful child making her feel as though she is the luckiest woman alive,

however a competition has started, a competition that will last until someone surrenders, who will stop being stubborn and quit? we will have to find out…

“Let the games begin” she mumbled with a sly smile Rafe heard this making a smirk cross his face

If you have any requests you want me to do either dm me or comment :)

[lionlena]

Unforgivable mistake (JoelMillerxreader) Part 5

Summary: Reader is much younger than Joel and is in love with  him. One night, after arguing with Tess and getting drunk, Joel spends  the night with a reader, but in the morning he breaks her heart…  She  runs away from Boston hoping that she will never meet this cold bastard  again in her life. But almost six years later, she unexpectedly sees  Joel in Jackson. She decides to hide herself and her little secret from  this asshole.

Warnings: age gap (reader is about 28 years, Joel 58),  strong language, swearing, past trauma, bullying, attempted rape, memories of sexual abuse, unprotect p in v,  dom!Joel, Joel is asshole, ANGST, hurt, sadness and heartbreaking, sexual harassment, women abuse, violence

(but this chapter is more fluff)

Part 5

As soon as you left the Jackson gates, you felt like you could breathe again. You left all that shit behind. Maybe it was a bit like running away from your problems, but you needed it. You didn't feel up to the consequences of Joel's actions. And you knew they would be. Anderson still had friends in town who would start whispering behind your back. They'll be looking at you and Joel. There will be rumors and lies. You weren't prepared to fight these people yet. You shifted in the saddle and hugged your son tighter, who was sitting in front of you. You suddenly heard his mournful whine.

"What happened baby?"

"Why Ellie and Joel can't come with us? Is it because I told Joel about Mr. Anderson?"

Your heart broke at the confession of your sweet little one. You immediately kissed his head. "No honey, it's because Anna and Toby don't know them."

"But they might."

"Yes, but first you have to politely ask if they want to meet them."

"Hmm..."

Seeing that your little son is not convinced, you decided to direct his attention to something else.

"Aren't you excited to see your grandparents? Why don't we ask Grandpa Toby to take you fishing?"

Teddy finally seemed happy and excitedly squealed, "Yes! And we'll bake fish for dinner..."

*

For fifteen minutes, Joel had been staring blankly at the empty stall where the horse you rode, had previously stood. He wasn't happy and he wasn't going to hide it. He didn't like your idea, but at the same time, he didn't want to cross any boundaries. He didn't want to pressure you and upset you. Although it was difficult for him, the whole terrible situation with Anderson paradoxically gave him hope. You stood up for him just as he stood up for you. And you didn't take revenge on him. Even though you had a right to. It all made him look at you differently. He remembered how in Boston sometimes he involuntarily looked at you because you were beautiful and sweet. You were a balm to his weary soul.

He remembered how he brushed your cheek last night and you didn't flinch, you didn't push him away. Though it was probably because you were too focused on his words.

He sighed heavily and grabbed his pitchfork to start cleaning up.

You probably still hated him to the core, and he shouldn't be clinging to a stupid piece of hope.

*

As soon as from a distance you saw a familiar wooden house, you began to smile widely.

Anna and Toby were an elderly couple who lived outside of Jackson. Many times they were offered to move, but they preferred to stay in their home. With Jackson, they maintained friendly relations. They exchanged wares with the locals. That's how you met them. They needed a new horse and came to Jackson with a good deal. Teddy was only 8 months old at the time, and you held him in your arms and showed Toby a horse that might suit him. An older couple was delighted with you and your son, whom they quickly began to treat as their own grandson. In the next trade, Anna gave you a blanket she made for Teddy as a gift.

And that's how your friendship began. You visited them from time to time and they always welcomed you with open arms. You felt right at home.

This time it was the same even though they noticed your bad mood right away.

*

Joel heard a soft laugh behind him. He stopped cleaning the bay mare for a moment and looked back. Ellie was sitting on the straw with a book on her lap. He gave her an offended look.

"What?" he murmured.

"This horse will soon shine like a diamond. The rest of the stable is shining too. Aren't you trying too hard?"

"I just want everything to be done right. I don't want Y/N to be mad when she gets back."

At the mention of your name, the teenage girl suddenly look saddened, Joel took a step towards her.

"Do you think they'll come back?" she asked.

Joel didn't want to let on that these terrifying thoughts were bothering him too. You've already disappeared from his life once for years because he hurt you. What if you did it again? But he didn't want to believe it.

"Of course, they will," he replied quickly. "Teddy has his place here, his friends and us. Y/N wouldn't take it all away from him." Ellie nodded and smiled slightly. "Besides, I would have found her then. I wouldn't have let her just disappear a second time."

The girl nodded and pointed to the horse's leg. "You missed the spot."

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "You'd better help me."

"Forget it!"

*

You sat next to Anna on the porch with a mug of coffee and enjoyed the morning calm. In the early morning Toby took Teddy fishing. Your son was so sleepy and excited at the same time. You were sure the little one would need a nap as soon as they got back, and that would give you another two hours of rest.

"So," Anna suddenly began, "Joel is Teddy's father?"

You jumped and nearly spilled your coffee.

"What?" you choked out. "How did you come to that?"

The woman looked at you indulgently. "I've lived in this world for almost seventy years. I see a lot of things. Teddy talks about him all the time. He spends a lot of time with him, but at the same time, you haven't even mentioned him. This suggests to me that Joel is not your new partner, who gets along great with your son. If he's not your partner, I don't believe you'd let a strange man babysit your child. That would be disturbing. So?"

You sighed heavily and nodded your head. "Yeah... Joel is that asshole from Boston who is Teddy's father."

"But he's good for Teddy?"

You looked at her slightly offended. "You know I'd kill him if he hurt him, but... The truth is that Joel is very tender and loving around him. So much so that sometimes it hurts to me saw this." Anna grabbed your hand and gave you a comforting squeeze. "He's not such an asshole anymore... In fact, he's really changed. He... Two days ago he stood up for me and even apologized to me."

Your voice trembled towards the end, which the woman didn't miss. "What's bothering you dear? Don't get me wrong, I'm always happy when you visit us, but this time I feel like we're just an excuse. You're running from something."

You swallowed and muttered, "He's wondering if I'll ever forgive him, and I... I don't know. His presence reminds me of the bad times as well as the good ones. He wasn't always an asshole to me. You know, he helped me sometimes. I was so stupid that sometimes I would take jobs too hard for me just to see him. Like digging trenches. I wasn't making my quota and... He would do it for me. Or he showed me how to hold tools. Now he's doing it again. He's helping me. And again... I feel my heart speed up at the sight of him and I feel warmer and... It shouldn't be like this. I should hate him. What he did should be unforgivable."

You felt a tear roll down your cheek and you wiped it furiously.

"So, you don't want to forgive him."

"If I forgive him, it means I've come to terms with what he did to me."

Anna shook her head. "No. You see, forgiveness is like a broken cup. If someone you love breaks your favorite cup, you have four choices. Not to forgive, give them the broken pieces and tell them to get out of the house. Or you can forgive, accept the loss and throw the broken pieces in the trash. But you can also forgive and not accept the loss. You can glue the pieces together even if the cup is no longer usable, and it will remind you of the loss. Have you seen that glued cup that stands above the fireplace?" You nodded your head. "I destroyed it when I found out Toby cheated on me."

You looked at her shocked. "Toby? Really?"

Anna laughed slightly. "He wasn't always as saintly as he is now. I forgave him but never reconciled that he did this to me, and the glued cup was a reminder to him that I can fix a cup that broke once, but if he does it a second time, then there will be no going back."

You nodded your head and asked, "And the fourth option?"

"The fourth is the worst. You just leave the broken pieces, but you have to remember that the longer those pieces lie on the floor, the greater the chance that somebody innocent will step on them and cut themselves."

You looked ahead and went back to drinking your coffee. Anna gave you a lot to think about.

*

"Fuck, Tommy, just tell me where exactly it is!"

Joel was losing patience with his brother, who consistently refused to tell him where exactly you were.

"They've been gone for four days. Teddy is small and Y/N was nervous. What if she got the wrong way? Or if..."

"Y/N knows the way and..." Tommy sighed and murmured, "Joel, I really understand you. I'd be worried about my baby too, but..."

"Wait! You know?"

Tommy laughed. "Maria told me, but even if she hadn't told me, what would I believe that my brother is playing babysitter just because he likes his neighbor?"

Joel sighed heavily and rubbed his neck. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because then I'd have to acknowledge what you've done," he muttered reluctantly. "Accept what a dick you were."

Joel snorted. "It's easy to judge when you're in nice, clean Jackson, not smelly Boston, where morality isn't something you value. I'm not proud of what I did, but I want to fix it, and I want to be sure, that my baby and his mother are safe!"

Tommy sighed heavily. "Okay. Tomorrow I'll go with you to where she's supposed to be. Satisfied?"

"Yes."

*

You gave Anna a tight hug and Toby put Teddy on the horse.

"I packed you a honey," she said.

"Thank you, for everything."

She smiled at you and gently stroked your cheek. "Whatever you've decided, I know it's the right decision."

You said goodbye to Toby and he helped you onto the horse.

Teddy was obviously a little sad to be leaving his grandparents, but at the same time, he was happy that you guys were coming home. Once you were close, you decided to surprise him.

"You know what I'm thinking baby?"

"About what, mommy?"

"Why don't we go over to Ellie and Joel's and make honey cakes with them?"

"Yes!"

Your son started bouncing with happiness and you smiled.

*

Joel was just finishing packing his backpack when he heard a knock on the door.

"Ellie, open it, it must be Tommy!"

Instead of his brother's voice, he heard a joyful, childish scream and immediately dropped everything he was doing. As soon as Teddy saw him, he let go of Ellie and ran towards to man. Joel immediately grabbed him and lifted him up.

"I missed you!" the boy shouted.

"I missed you too 'bear cub', a lot."

The toddler rested his head in the crook of Joel's neck and sighed contentedly. You couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight. Your son and Joel acted like they hadn't seen each other for five months instead of five days.

"We met Tommy on the way," you said and gave Joel a suggestive look.

He shifted his son onto his hip and rubbed the nape of his neck with his free hand. You saw he was confused. "I was worried," he murmured.

"He was sick of cleaning the horses! Or they were sick of him," Ellie stated.

"Ellie!"

The girl stuck her tongue out at him, which amused Teddy, who suddenly remembered what you came for.

"Mom, cookies!"

"Ah yes!" You showed a jar of honey and said, "Anna gave me this and I thought we could make honey cookies, together."

"Fucking awesome!" the girl shouted.

"Ellie," Joel hissed. "Not in front of the little one."

You smiled slightly. You liked that Joel cared about such things, but you weren't going to scold the teenage girl. Instead, you asked, "Do you have everything in the kitchen? Flour, eggs, butter?"

"Sure, come on," said the girl.

*

Joel leaned against the doorframe and watched the three of you cut cookies. You, Ellie, and Teddy who stood on a chair between you.

He felt his heart swell at the sight. He didn't know why you suggested it, but he wasn't going to complain. He also saw that Ellie needed it. After everything she'd been through, she deserved a bit of a family vibe.

"If you don't help us, you won't get anything," said the teenage girl.

He smiled maliciously at her. "Oh, I was sure I'd get your cookies as thanks for putting up with you."

You just rolled your eyes knowing full well how much Joel cared about the girl. Meanwhile, she shouted indignantly: "Yeah, alright!"

She grabbed a handful of flour and threw it at Joel. The moment she did it, you already knew how it would end... A complete mess. Teddy, of course, repeated the girl's gesture. Joel leaped forward and grab some flour. Ellie jumped back towards you and the flour thrown at her landed on you. Joel looked at you in shock.

"Oops."

You heard Ellie's voice behind you.

"Oops?" you said and threw flour at Joel and at the same time Teddy threw at Ellie.

"Hey kid, I thought we were on the same team!"

You laughed and said, "Believe me Ellie, there are no teams in this war."

You threw flour at Teddy, who squealed with delight and with Joel's help jumped to the floor. Then the toddler threw flour at you and Joel.

All four of you started laughing and You thought how surreal it was. If a stranger looked at you all, they might think you were family. Six months ago, you'd have said you'd rather throw a knife at Joel than flour, but you stood there in clothes covered with white powder. You took a deep breath and said, "Okay. That's enough. We're putting the cookies in the oven. And then," you looked at Ellie, "you and Joel are cleaning up this mess."

The girl groaned. "Why I?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Because you two started it."

*

Joel was on the porch. He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on the railing.

You approached him so quietly that he jumped when you said, "Please try it before the kids eat it all."

Joel took a cookie from the plate you handed him and said, "Thank you."

You felt a slight warmth in your chest as you heard that one word. You couldn't stop it. You waited a while until you finally cleared your throat and said, "I've been thinking about what you said about forgiving you."

Joel swallowed the remnants of cookies with difficulty and quickly set the plate aside. He stared at you, waiting for your verdict and knowing that he would accept any decision you made.

"I'm not ready to forgive you yet... Not everything." He nodded. "But even if I forgive you, I will not accept what you did to me, I will not forget it."

Joel cautiously approached you and grabbed your hand. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles and whispered, "I don't want you to accept this. I don't want you to forget, because I don't want you to let some other man hurt you." He was still holding your hand.

"What do you want?" you asked quietly.

"More moments like today. I know I'm an egoist..."

You thought you were going to cry from the amount of emotions you were feeling and you wanted to stop it somehow. You pulled away from him and saw him reluctantly let go of your hand.

"If these moments always will end with my dirty clothes, then there won't be any more moments like this," you joked, though the tension in your voice was easily noticeable.

Joel, however, chose to pretend he hadn't noticed. He raised his hands in surrender. "It's Ellie's fault."

You laughed slightly. "Don't blame everything on the child."

"She's not such a small and innocent baby after all," he muttered.

"As for the small baby, I should put Teddy to bed soon. He's had a tiring day today and he's going to be cranky soon."

Joel shifted uneasily. "If you want to rest, I can take care of him."

You bit your lip. It was a tempting proposition, but you weren't sure if your son was ready to sleep in a strange house. And did you ready for it?

"No... Staying here will just be another source of excitement and will make it harder for him to fall asleep."

He nodded and replied, "Okay. I'll bring him."

When he returned, Teddy was burying his head in the crook of Joel's neck and sucking thumb. You sighed slightly at the sight. "I'm late, someone is already cranky."

Joel nodded and tilted his head to the side to make more room for the little one. "He wants me to take him to bed and read him a bedtime story."

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it. You could tell by the way Teddy was burying his head in Joel's neck that he was very sleepy. You had no chance of persuading him to go with you alone. It would end in tears and loud sobs. So you nodded and headed home.

You plopped down on the couch and waited for Joel to leave Teddy's room. It didn't take long.

"He fell asleep." You nodded, and he added, "You know, I thought if you wanted to rest after your journey, I'd take care of the stable tomorrow."

You raised your eyebrows. "Really?"

"No problem. I'll go now."

He started to head towards the door but you stopped him. "Joel." He looked at you curiously. "Thank you." He smiled slightly and nodded.

When he left, you closed your eyes and realized it was time to pick up the broken pieces and glue them back together. You knew it wasn't going to happen in a day or two, but you were ready to start.

*

I'm obsessed with this photo. Joel could hold Teddy like this all the time ;)

Part IV

Part VI

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[pollymorgan]

Ex-husband Negan Part 5

Warnings: An asshole named Negan and a woman who can't get over him.

Luckily, nothing serious happened to David, except maybe the scare of his life. Negan really pulled himself together. Maybe he has finally become sensible. I had actually given up hope.

When my daughters miraculously went to school on time and Negan left the house with them, I took a deep breath.

What had happened in the last few hours?

I really feel that as soon as my ex-husband is near me for longer than five minutes, he throws my whole life into absolute chaos.

Inevitably, I had to think about the last night and my pulse immediately accelerated. It was just madness. This man still knows my body better than I do. No one can touch me the way he does. Instantly, I felt that tingling in my stomach again. That damn feeling that has often led me into misery.

19 years ago

Even though I had left my old home eight years ago to build my own life in New York, I kept in touch with my best friend Harper. Harper and I spent our entire school years together, and our connection never broke despite the distance. We used to be a trio, but Scarlet unfortunately became one of the main reasons why I had moved away so hastily.

God, I was so stupid back then not to recognize the signs and always make excuses for Negan and her. But sometimes you are so blinded that you only realize it when you see it with your own eyes.

The fact that Harper has been dating Negan's best friend Simon for a few years was, admittedly, really strange for me at first. After all, I tried with all my might to erase Negan from my life, but by now we had been separated for ages and the anger had subsided over the years. The anger, yes, but unfortunately not all the other feelings I felt towards him. If I was honest with myself, I immediately compared every new man in my life to him. Even though I didn't want to, I thought so often about our time together. Everything reminded me of him, even though I lived in a completely different city, but you can't run away from feelings.

Whenever Harper happened to mention something about Simon and Negan during our hours-long phone calls, I immediately became quiet and absorbed every piece of information. Of course, I never asked directly, my pride was too great for that, but it seemed that this guy would remain my weakness forever.

This is also how it came about that Harper invited me to her birthday. I was very excited for the house party at her place and took a few days off to fly to my old city.

After we were both incredibly excited on the phone that I would be able to follow her invitation, Harper suddenly became quite serious at the other end.

"Negan will be there too..." she said calmly.

Immediately I was speechless. Why would he show up there? After all, it's my best friend's birthday, not Simon's. I cleared my throat briefly, but then I absolutely did not want to spoil their, or my, mood.

"Yes, of course... it's totally okay! I'm looking forward to seeing him again after so long... Oh man, we were teenagers and now you're already 28, you old hag..." I joked, even though I didn't feel like joking at all, thinking about my ex-boyfriend who had broken my heart in such a brutal way.

"Yes, yes ..first get to my age! At 27, you still talk so easily." Harper countered.

Until the day of the party, I managed to push the thought of seeing Negan again out of my mind. However, when I rang her doorbell, the nervousness crept up on me. Is he already there? How will he react to me? And how will I react to him? Does he still think about me sometimes? Does he even miss me occasionally?

When Harper greeted me with the words that I was the first guest, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Of course, postponed is not canceled, but in that moment I felt a strange relief.

We embraced joyfully and I congratulated her from the bottom of my heart. Then I handed her a bottle of her favorite Prosecco and a self-made voucher for a weekend in New York. She had wanted to visit me so many times, but the plans always failed and in the end, I was always the one who visited.

The greeting with Simon was a strange mix of a handshake and a hug, so I was glad when Harper asked me if I could help her in the kitchen.

It was my first visit to the two of them since they had moved into a shared apartment. The whole thing was really strange for me, everything seemed so adult, almost bourgeois. Not at all like I knew her. Okay, we had grown up, but somehow time seemed to have stood still for me. Since I went to New York at the age of 19, not much had changed in my lifestyle. Except that I had a steady job and earned my own money.

Harper's kitchen was full of modern appliances, while at home, I was happy if I could find a sharp knife.

But before we started preparing the rest of the food, Harper opened us two beers and within seconds, everything was just like old times. We joked and laughed about the most trivial things, and soon the first guests arrived. The doorbell kept ringing, and then Simon opened the door to let the next ones in. People would then show up in the kitchen after a few seconds, congratulating my friend on her birthday. Some of them I knew from before, while others were new acquaintances, mainly her coworkers. Mentally, I tried to match the names to the stories that Harper had told me during one of our phone conversations.

Superficially, I played it cool, but inside, I was boiling. A thousand times, I played in my mind how I would react if Negan walked in through the door. I kept envisioning that one scene that made me startle every time the doorbell rang.

I opened another beer and then helped Harper set up the buffet. The salads were piling up, she had prepared so much. Everything was planned down to the smallest detail. The color scheme of the decor matched, and the dishes were all from the same brand.

With my arms crossed on my hips, I admired everything. "Wow, I have to say, you've really become the perfect housewife, while I..."

"While you still have the hottest ass in all of America... Damn, just look at her. God bless America!" a very familiar voice interrupted me.

Amidst all the commotion around us, I hadn't even noticed that Negan had entered the kitchen. Being surprised by his presence made it even harder. I took a deep breath and then turned with a smile on my face to face him.

He was already so close to me that there was barely any space between us, and his face put on that typical grin. I hadn't seen him in so long, but his green-brown eyes looked familiar to me. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss on my cheek.

I literally inhaled his scent, a mixture of rugged aftershave, cigarette smoke, and his own unique scent. Instead of letting go immediately, he held me much longer than necessary, and I was frozen in his arms.

"It feels unbelievably great to finally feel you so close again..." he whispered in my ear, and I immediately got goosebumps all over my body.

None of the prepared lines came out of my mouth.

He hadn't forgotten how to charm me, if anything, he seemed to have perfected it.

I stared at him wordlessly until he suddenly leaned in even more. Bewildered, I evaded him, and he grabbed one of the beer bottles that were right behind me.

Amused by my reaction, he winked at me and clinked his bottle against mine. Then he disappeared into the living room. Suddenly, a former classmate approached me and hugged me to greet me. She immediately started talking a mile a minute, but I couldn't follow her words as I kept thinking about the recent situation with Negan.

Some time passed before we all decided to move to the living room. Negan and Simon were standing by the window, smoking a cigarette. I tried my best not to stare at him constantly, but I caught myself doing it repeatedly.

Harper introduced me to Daniel, one of her coworkers. The three of us sat down with a few others at the living room table. The conversation was already in full swing, so it was easy for me to just join in.

I was in the middle of telling the others about the most unique restaurants in New York when I suddenly felt someone sit next to me on the couch. Without looking, I could tell it was Negan. Immediately, my heart rate increased, but I tried not to show it and continued talking.

Negan started a conversation with Daniel, who was still sitting next to me, so I leaned further forward so they could talk better. Negan leaned even closer behind my back to his conversation partner, and suddenly, I felt his hand on my hip. A bolt of electricity shot through my body, but I tried not to show it. As if that wasn't enough, my t-shirt had ridden up slightly in this position, and Negan began gently stroking the bare skin of my back with his thumb. God, how I had missed this feeling. I pushed all doubts aside and just focused on his tender touch and what it was doing to me.

It was only when I heard my name that I was snapped out of my trance.

"What?" I asked, startled, looking at Negan, who straight ened and then smiled knowingly at me.

"The beer at Dawson's is a disaster..." he laughed.

I leaned back against the couch and then looked at Daniel.

"Oh yes, terrible... gave me the hangover of my life," I tried to somehow join the conversation.

"That was probably more about the quantity than the quality..." Negan noted amusedly and reached for my thigh. His hand stayed there for the next while, until I loudly declared that I needed to visit the restroom and disappeared there.

Upon reaching the bathroom, I straightened up in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection questioningly. Where was all of this leading? I didn't have an answer.

As soon as I opened the door to go back, Negan was standing right in front of me. Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into him.

"Hey... not so hasty! Is it already midnight, or why are you in such a hurry, Cinderella?" he said, holding my upper arms.

"Would you search for me if I lost my shoe?" I asked, looking at him inquisitively.

"I may not be a damn prince, but fuck, honey. I would turn the whole world upside down to find you..." he replied.

I'm not sure if I was the one who took a step back, or if he led me back to the bathroom, but suddenly we were there. Negan closed the door behind him and locked it, not taking his eyes off me.

"And what would you do when you find me?" I asked innocently, nervously biting my lower lip.

Negan pulled me towards him abruptly and kissed me just as passionately.

"Exactly this..." he whispered into my open mouth before our tongues touched. In that kiss lay all the desire and the incredible longing that had been dormant in me for the past years. I clutched onto the hair at the back of his head as if I never wanted to let go.

Slowly, my mouth traveled along his jaw, his beard pleasantly scratching my lips, and when I touched his neck, I felt his Adam's apple slightly vibrate.

"I was such a damn idiot..." he now whispered softly.

"Oh yes, you were... I think now would be the right time to make things right..." I said, as I was already undoing the belt of his pants.

Negan grinned at me, "If we stay in here any longer, everyone outside will know what we've been up to in here."

"Very good..." I said with a smile and was about to kneel down, but he stopped me.

"Stop, we don't have time for that now..." as he said that, he turned me around so that my back was to him, then crossed his arms in front of me and pulled me close to him. The feeling of his strong body made me even more unrestrained.

"Baby, believe me, I'll do anything you want, but first, I just need to feel your sweet pussy around my cock... I've missed you so incredibly much..." he growled in a deep voice directly into my ear and pushed me towards the washing machine, until I eventually leaned against it.

The lower arm of his left arm landed on my back and gently pushed my upper body down. While holding me in this position, with his right hand, he pulled down my jeans and underwear, and I excitedly helped him until they were hanging around my knees, presenting Negan with my naked behind. His hand traveled up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and I spread my legs as much as I could. Then his flat hand landed directly on my center. Gently, he ran his fingers through my folds, and just the feeling made me moan.

"Please, I need your cock..." I pleaded.

With the hand that had just touched my most intimate area, he gave me a light spank on the behind.

"And let no one say dreams don't come true..." Negan exclaimed enthusiastically.

[rosemarymonths]

Introducing Rosemary Month 2023, all throughout October!

You can submit art, fanfics, music, cosplays, meta analysis, shitposts, etc, for the prompts!! I’ll be keeping track of the tags: #rosemary and #rosemary month2023 for submissions!! Or you can simply just @ this acc so I don’t skip over yours by accident!

Prompts:

Day 1: From The Start

Imagine rosemary at their very beginning of their dynamic or at the first step of their romantic relationship!

Day 2: Turtle Consorts

Rose and Kanaya hanging around Rose’s consorts would’ve been pretty cute!

Day 3: Meteorstuck

Imagine any Meteorstuck shenanigans Rose and Kanaya got into together!

Day 4: Hurt/Comfort

Obligatory sadstuck day, but with added comfort for safety measure!

Day 5: First Kiss

Either imagine Pre-Retcon Rose and Kanaya’s first kiss, or the unseen post-retcon kiss! Or maybe you want to explore a different way they could’ve had their first kiss?

Day 6: Quadrants

Time for some rosemary quadrant smearing!

Day 7: Birthdays

How neat would it be to see Rose and Kanaya celebrating each other’s birthdays?

Day 8: Cats

Imagine Rose and Kanaya playing with a bunch of cats!

Day 9: Rain

Rose and Kanaya going through rainy weather, or just explore anything you want to do with rain.

Day 10: Rays

After the rain, Kanaya and Rose finally get some sunshine.

Day 11: Game Over

Explore the absolute heartbreak that is Rose and Kanaya’s deaths, either during the catastrophe or the aftermath within the dreambubbles.

Day 12: AUs

Any AU you want!! Been thinking about a MLP AU lately? A Little Prince AU?

Day 13: Family

Explore either Rose and Kanaya with their own little family, or just them with the other Strilondes/Maryams! Or both!!

Day 14: Alpha Timeline

Imagine either Alpha Rose x Beforus Kanaya, or post-retcon rosemary! Whichever one you like best!

Day 15: Tropes

Explore your favorite rosemary tropes!! Or a trope you’d love to see with rosemary!

Day 16: Scars

Rose and Kanaya bonding over their shared scars, either literal or metaphorical.

Day 17: Flowers

Either Kanaya simply infodumping about her botanic skills to Rose, or just pretty flower art, you decide whatever!

Day 18: Stars

Perhaps Rose and Kanaya stargazing, or aesthetic pieces! Go crazy!

Day 19: Date Night

Imagine Rose and Kanaya finally going on a somewhat decent date this time around.

Day 20: Robots

Assigned meat rosemary day, or just do whatever you wish with robots and rosemary!

Day 21: Double Date

Imagine rosemary going on a double date with another ship you like!

Day 22: Dreambubbles

Either Rose and Kanaya having dreambubble fun times, or perhaps more Game Over angst?

Day 23: Domestic

Explore Rose and Kanaya’s sweet domestic life, as they deserve!

Day 24: Strider Third Wheeler

It wouldn’t be Rosemary without Dave trying to tag along like he’s their five year old son, right?

Day 25: Proposal

Who do you think proposed? Rose or Kanaya?

Day 26: Wedding Anniversary

Rose and Kanaya celebrating their marriage!!

Day 27: Snow

Imagine Rose and Kanaya undergoing snowy weather!

Day 28: Fnaf Day

Exactly what it says. Happy Fnaf Movie month

Day 29: Beach Episode

Imagine Rose and Kanaya just having some beach summer fun times

Day 30: Clothes/Style Swap

A good ol’ fashioned clothing/style swap between Rose and Kanaya!

Day 31: Halloween

Happy Halloween!! Are Rose and Kanaya trick or treating? Passing out candy? Going to a party?Scaring little kids to death maybe?? Do whatever halloween fun you want with these two!