#which of course was it's own wave of nostalgia

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Also, I made a realization today. Today was the first time EVER where I have officially been too stoned to watch a horror film

[fisheito]

You know who you remind me of? Helga Pataki.

Please tell me you (or somebody else) gets the reference 😂

anon u turned my world to static with that namedrop

on the list of things i did NOT expect to happen ,because hUH??: someone dragging [hey arnold] into my tiny nuca inbox

[bykshre]

Sure Thing

charles leclerc x female reader (smau) 2/?

a continuation of WE FOUND LOVE (index)

summary: you and charles were meant to be together even if the media, society and his girlfriend criticized you.

trope: childhood friends to lovers, ferrari driver x head strategist , mean gf (no hate to any of charles' gf's, ex or current.)

a/n: hi hii!! :D charles my amour won in COTA and of course I had to create something out of that. Soo without further todo, i shall introduce to you Sure Thing, part 2 of We found Love! Enjoyyy!! <3

Your thumb hovered over Charles’ Instagram post, reading the simple caption repeatedly, fixating on one specific sentence; "Alex and I have decided to end our relationship".

You felt an unexpected surge of emotions — relief, confusion, excitement.

"This is so sudden", you whispered to yourself though there was no one really beside you.

Alex was heavily popular, APM Monaco made her model for their jewellery, she was signed with influencer management and she even promoted many clothing brands throughout her journey as Charles's girlfriend— she was sort of the IT Wag. However, nobody truly knows what she was, what she did and how she acts when she's away from the monumental stardom and attention she got.

And you opened twitter. Which instantly made you regret your decision.

@F1Gossip:

"BREAKING: Charles Leclerc and Alexandra call it quits! What led to the sudden breakup? Rumors are swirling about Y/N’s involvement… 👀 #F1Drama #CharlesLeclerc"

@AlexandraStans:

"Honestly, good riddance. Alex deserves better than someone who spends all his time with another woman. #TeamAlex #CharlesLeclerc"

@LeclercNation:

"People need to stop blaming Y/N for the breakup. Charles is an adult who made his own decision. #TeamYN #FerrariFamily"

Regardless of whatever you were feeling, you quickly pushed them aside, reminding yourself to not to get sucked into this situation. "Who are you?", you asked yourself, constructing a mental note. You are Charles’ strategist, his friend, and that’s all this was. You did spend hours with him throughout your childhood, of course, you went to school with him, you had sleepovers with the Leclerc brothers, you spent hours in the kitchen with manman gossiping - you were considered the daughter she never had. What have you not done with the Leclercs?

It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.

Frankly, you've no idea how to bring it up, so you kept a promise to not bring it up and you didn’t. You appreciate the week off without any races — it brought you away from everything. You wanted to keep your mind off things and give some time to yourself. And that's exactly what you did.

ursername

time-off 🤍🐻‍❄️🪽🍸

liked by mlnmarta, charles_leclerc, joristrouche and 2.8M others

lewishamilton enjoy, yn! lets get some almave next time ya?

⤷ ursername omg yes lewsss!! 🍸🍸

charles_leclerc 🩷 see you next week, ynie!

⤷ ursername indeed char 🤍🩷

mlnmarta boubou is missing you, come back soon!! 🤱

⤷ ursername u and me in singapore? it's a definite yes😘😘

alexfanpage look at this homewreker, fucking bitch! 😡😡

⤷ illpresidanto omg get a life!! you so pressed for no reason u ugly bitch

19765K likes

🌟

It was a sunlit afternoon in Monaco, where Marta and Riccardo were celebrating the upcoming arrival of their second child. The garden was decorated with a mix of blue and white balloons, creating a cheerful, celebratory atmosphere. Close friends, family, and little Chiara, who was already running around like a whirlwind, were all present.

You wore a pink dress, your hair tousled on your shoulders, favouring another baby girl while Charles was wearing a blue t-shirt accompanied with a blue bandana — something you haven't seen him wear for the past 2 years. It felt different seeing him wear that bandana, it evoked old memories between the both you. You were brought with a wave of nostalgia where you used to go live with Charles on Twitch racing each other on the sim during the Covid-19 era.

You're a sucker for nostalgia

When you first spot Charles at Marta and Riccardo's gender reveal party, you can't help but pause for a moment. He's standing casually near the edge of the garden, his relaxed posture and easy smile making him the center of attention without even trying. His blue bandana was tied loosely around his head. The way the sunlight catches his hair, tousled from the bandana, adds a soft glow around him. He’s talking to a group of friends, but when his eyes meet yours from across the garden, there's a brief flicker of recognition.

As Chiara ran over to you, her arms outstretched, you quickly scooped the little girl up into your arms — pampering her with your soft kisses. “Hey there, sweetheart!” you cooed, smiling warmly at the giggling toddler. Chiara clung to you, pointing toward the food table, eager to see what was there.

Charles watched the both you from a distance, carrying two glasses of sparkling water. As you looked up at him, you couldn't help but tease, “She’s already stealing the spotlight from you.”

Charles grinned, handing you a glass. “It’s alright, I’ll always be her favorite godparent. She just needs a little time to realize I’m the cool one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you’re telling yourself?”

Charles shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Hey, it’s working. I’m planning to spoil her with all the toys.”

You smirked. “Bribery isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘parenting,’ Charles.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing, “Good thing I’m not a parent yet.”

As the countdown for the big reveal began, everyone gathered in the garden around Marta and Riccardo. You and Charles stood together, chatting quietly about the possible gender.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a girl,” you said, eyes glancing toward Marta. “Marta’s been mentioning how much she wants a sister for Chiara.”

Charles shook his head, his hands on your shoulder. “I think you’re wrong, honey. Riccardo’s been too quiet—he’s definitely preparing for a boy.”

"I'll prove you wrong today, Miss Strategist," he smirked

"You'll never it's definitely a——"

The moment arrived. The large balloon in front of Marta and Riccardo burst, releasing a cascade of blue confetti. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Chiara clapped her hands in delight as she was handed to Marta.

“It’s a boy!” Riccardo exclaimed, lifting his daughter into the air, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. Marta smiled brightly, holding Chiara close to her chest, both parents absolutely overjoyed.

“I called it,” Charles whispered, nudging you with his elbow.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that. But I guess I’m going to have to learn to spoil a little boy now.”

"And you're proven wrong, y/n," he said while erupting in happiness

"Fuck off Charles!" you said as you roll your eyes

Later in the day, after the excitement had died down, you and Charles found yourselves in a quiet corner of the garden, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. you were holding Chiara, who had fallen asleep in your arms, while Leo lay at Charles' feet, content and relaxed.

“You know, you’re really good with her.”

You glanced up at him, eyes soft. “She’s easy to love.”

Charles watched you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the calm scene in front of them.

“I think you’d make an amazing parent,” he said, his voice quiet.

You smiled, though you didn’t fully respond to his comment. Instead, you gently brushed Chiara’s hair from her face. “Maybe one day.”

charles_leclerc

team boy!! 🩵🌟

liked by mlnmarta, riccardoberreta, joris_trouche,ursername,landonorris

ursername baby chichi <3

liked by author

mlnmarta mi bebe~

joris_trouche 🩵

alexandrafp no alex and u look like shit!

alexamour wheres that bitch Y/N??

ursername

mon lion et ma petite filleule

liked by charles_leclerc, mlnmarta,oscarpiastri and 3M others

charles_leclerc adorable

lewishamilton soo cute!

mlnmarta my 👶

joris_trouche who took this pic🤭

@FerrariInsider:

"Sources close to the team say Charles and Y/N have been spending more time together since the breakup. Could something more be brewing between them? 👀 #F1Gossip"

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

COTA GRAND-PRIX, AUSTIN, TEXAS.

ursername

story, 4h ago

Looking sharp out there 👀 Let’s keep it smooth this weekend, @ charles_leclerc. 🏎️✨

As Charles arrived at the garage for practice, he seemed relaxed, as if nothing had changed. So, you followed his lead, keeping things as normal as possible. Talking about Alex was the least of your concerns, you were more concerned about how Charles was coping and when you saw him being his usual bubbly and annoying self —you knew this relationship was long to be called off. Then again, this is the Charles Leclerc, the homie hopper, the playboy- you've seen it all. He's messy in relationships and that scares you, so much. Yet, you're treated so differently and you wonder why.

After FP1, Charles and Carlos stroll into their garages to rewind and reflect with the team to consult tyre management, degradation and qualifying strategies.

As Charles unlocked his phone, his thumb instinctively swiped to Instagram to catch up on the latest updates. A burst of laughter escaped him as he saw a story from his head strategist, who had tagged him in it.

“Looking sharp, huh? Not bad for just a practice session.” He said to Y/N who was sitting beside him.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Leclerc. You still have a lot to prove this weekend,” you said sternly,

“A lot to prove? I thought I already impressed the toughest critic on the team.”

“I’m a strategist, Charles. Being impressed is temporary — results are what matter,” you said

“So, if I get results, will you post something even nicer?” he said, giving her his winning smirk

“Win the race, and I’ll think about it.”

🌟 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

As the sprint race ends, Charles strolls into the garage, his helmet tucked under his arm. Y/N is standing by the monitors, reviewing the data.

Charles: “You’re awfully quiet today. Everything okay, strategist?”

Y/N doesn’t look up immediately, keeping her focus on the screen. “Just making sure you’re as sharp as I said you were. No pressure, though.”

Charles smirks, leaning casually against the desk beside her. “I’m starting to think you enjoy putting pressure on me.”

Y/N finally glances at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “If it makes you faster, then maybe I do.”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Y/N tilts her head. “You’d know if you were. For now, just focus on not going wide into Turn 11 again.”

Charles groans playfully. “That’s never happening again. You’ll see.”

Y/N: “Good. I like being right.”

Scuderia Ferrari HP

@charles_leclerc is working hard tonight with the team 🏎 ❇

liked by ursername,ggiada,mlnmarta,riccardoberreta and 5M others

ursername one of the rarest times i see mr leclerc staying overtime! mind-boggling indeed

⤷ charles_leclerc gosh you are annoying

oscarpiastri the dedication 👨

charles_leclerc y/n's fault!

lewishamilton keep it up bud!

After the debrief and post-practice meetings, you're walking back to your hotel, laptop bag slung over your shoulder. The paddock is quiet now, with only a few people milling about under the warm Austin night sky.

“Hey, strategist.”

She turns to find Charles jogging to catch up with her, still in his Ferrari polo and cap.

“Shouldn’t you be resting? I thought you went back? You’ve got qualifying tomorrow.”

Charles falls into step beside you, hands casually shoved into his pockets. “I could say the same to you. What’s keeping you out so late?”

You shrug. “Notes. Data. Making sure we’re perfect tomorrow.”

“We’re perfect, huh?” He glances at you with a teasing smirk.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’s my job to make sure you don’t mess it up.”

“Ah, so you’re saying you’re the brains, and I’m just the guy driving the car?”

you finally stop walking and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re finally catching on.”

For a moment, they just look at each other. The playful banter fades into a quiet intensity. Charles’ gaze softens, and Y/N feels her pulse quicken under the weight of his attention.

Charles: “You know, you’re pretty incredible.”

“Charles…” she starts, but he cuts her off with a soft laugh.

“Relax, strategist. Just giving credit where it’s due.”

You shake your head, “Save the charm for the press conferences. You’ll need it when they grill you tomorrow.”

���Right. Gotta stay focused.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Don’t stay up too late. Wouldn't want my stargirl to get sick.”

You chuckle softly as you walk into your room, catching his eye as he waves from across the hallway, stepping into his room just opposite yours.

RACE DAY

The morning sun was barely filtering through the high windows of the hotel lobby as Charles stood near the entrance, checking his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. His nerves were on edge—not because of the race, but because today felt different.

Just as he was about to check his phone again, he saw you.

You stepped into the lobby, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. The buzz of the hotel faded away. You were wearing a dress unlike any other—simple yet striking. It was a fitted black satin dress, hugging your figure perfectly and stopping just above your knees. The neckline was deep enough to tease but still elegant, and the fabric shimmered under the light as if it were made to capture every glance.

you were unaware of the way you had completely captured his attention, you walked towards him with a confident, almost teasing smile. You could feel the tension in the air, but she wasn’t sure if it was just the race day energy or something more.

“Morning, Charles,” you said, your voice warm

“You… you look…”

Your smile widened, though there was a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Thanks. I wanted to make sure you had something to look forward to after the race.”

Charles chuckled softly, the sound low and almost nervous, his eyes scanning over you once again. The dress clung to your body in all the right ways, and his thoughts were running wild. “You’re distracting me,” he said with a grin, taking a small step toward you.

Charles reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, the touch sending a shock through his system. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second before meeting her eyes again.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected this reaction from him. Sure, he was always flirty with you but this past week seemed a little different.

“Shall we?” he asked

“Lead the way,” she said

Charles led you through the hotel lobby, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back as you two walked toward the exit. His touch was soft, almost protective, but you could feel the weight of it. It wasn’t just a gesture—it was more.

When you reached the car, a sleek Ferrari SF90 in all its glory, Charles opened the passenger side door for you.

“After you,” Charles said with a playful grin.

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat as she slid into the car, the cool leather of the seat pressing against you as you settled in. You glanced over at Charles as he slid into the driver’s seat, his movements smooth and confident. The way he adjusted the rearview mirror, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel—it all seemed like a quiet dance between you both like everything was aligning.

Charles started the engine, the powerful rumble filling the space between them. He looked over at you, a small smile playing on his lips as they began their journey to the track.

“So,” he began, trying to keep the mood light, “Are you ready for today?”

You leaned back in the seat, gaze wandering to the window for a moment as the city passed by. “I think you’re the one who should be ready for today,” you teased, glancing back at him with a knowing smile. “You’re going to have a lot of eyes on you.”

Charles laughed softly, but there was a nervous edge to it. “That’s nothing new.” He shifted the car smoothly, maneuvering through the streets. “But it’s different when you’re here, you know?” His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. “Having you here makes it… better.”

You weren’t sure if he meant it in the way you wanted to believe, but the sincerity in his voice made you feel something she hadn’t expected.

“It’s always been different,” she said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“I’ve always been here for you, Charles. I always will be.”

Charles glanced over at you, his expression softening. “I know. And I’m grateful for that.” His hand briefly brushed against yours on the gearshift, sending a jolt through you, and he didn’t pull away. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside the car fading away.

When they arrived at the track, the noise of the race weekend came rushing back.

He looked over at you, his gaze lingering for a moment, his thoughts seemingly racing. Then, with a slow exhale, he opened the door and stepped out, walking around to your side of the car. He opened the door for you, just like before, but this time, it felt different.

As you stepped out of the car, Charles was already there, his hand extending to help steady you, though it wasn’t needed. You didn’t take his hand immediately, but the way he watched you, the way his eyes stayed on you with such intensity, made your heart flutter.

“You look even more stunning in the daylight,” he said, his voice lower now, the playful teasing replaced with something more genuine.

You met his gaze, lips curving into a soft smile. “Thanks, Charles,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

formulaone

Charles Leclerc steps into the track alongside his strategist, Y/N today! Charles is starting P4 today - let's see what we'll get with Ferrari, especially with the upcoming title battle with McLaren! Today's going to be interesting.

liked by mlnmarta,joris_trouche, and 4M others

alexandrafp seriously charles it;s only been 2 weeks since you broke up with alex and you're taking y/n around in your car? wtf!

⤷ charlesfp y/n is charles childhood best friend , besides alex was toxic enough that he couldn't spend time with yn!

⤷ ynstrategistupdates frr- yn and charles have always stepped into the track together before this, where is your brains?

⤷ yndefender please what?! charles had ENOUGH with alex past 2 years! stfu and leave the sport if you're only invested in WAGS!

@F1Fanatic

"Okay, but Charles and Y/N arriving together in his Ferrari SF90 and the way he held her hand to help her out of the car??? Gentleman of the year 🥺🔥 #CharlesLeclerc #F1"

@TifosiForever

"Y/N in that dress??? Charles could barely keep his eyes off her. You’re telling me this is just ‘driver and strategist’ behavior? 😏 #Ferrari #COTAGP"

@GrandPrixGossip

"Did anyone else notice how Charles waited for Y/N at the lobby this morning? She’s clearly more than just a strategist to him. 👀 #F1Drama #LeclercNation"

@F1Moments

"The way Charles just casually said ‘I drive better when I know you’re watching’ to Y/N in the garage?? Sir, the cameras are ON. #SlowBurn #CharlesAndYN"

@FerrariInsider

"People are saying Charles and Y/N are just friends, but friends don’t exchange those kinds of looks before a race. 🫣 #F1LoveStory #CharlesLeclerc"

@F1Editz

"Charles Leclerc and Y/N arriving at COTA this morning >>> any romcom scene ever filmed. The chemistry is unreal. 😍 #F1Romance"

@LeclercNation

"If Charles wins today, it’s 100% because Y/N is his good luck charm. Someone check the stats on her presence at his podiums! 🏆❤️ #F1CoupleGoals"

womeninformulaone

Ferrari's Head of Strategy, Ms YN arrives on the COTA paddock alongside Ferrari's Charles Leclerc today. She is wearing a beautiful fitted navy blue dress. Let's see what she pulls off in today's race! 🏎 ❇

liked by carmenmundt,hannahstjohn,ursername,charles_leclerc and 8M others

ynsfp who is this DIVA?

alexfp cunning witch

⤷ charlesfp you should've been banned by now! Why do people like you still exist??

ursername WOW haha featured by this page? I thought this page was just for WAGs, never thought WOMEN in MOTORSPORTS could've been featured.

80K likes

RACE

The track energy was high as the team prepared for the race. Charles stepped into his car after having his debrief with his engineer, Bryan, Fred and of course, you- adjusting his helmet and getting settled in the cockpit. You stood by, watching till the clock hits 12.

Least to say, you were feeling nervous. But when do you not go through a whirlwind of emotions when you see your best-friend driving at 200-300km/h for 2 hours? Formula One is not a just a sport— if not done meticulously it'd be fatal.

Not were you only nervous on that but as a strategist yourself, you are afraid of letting the team down with ridiculous pits and scenarios which scares you. You weren't responsible for what happened at Montreal nor were you responsible for the mishaps this year. But as a woman in motorsports where women are highly downgraded and treated not well — you were determined to make a change in this sport where misogyny has no place and uplift young girls to dominate this world of motorsports.

As you sit on your chair at the pit-wall, you laugh as you remembered your last conversation with Charles making you shake your head.

“I’m going to win today.”

“Confident, are we?”

Charles: “When you’re the one calling the shots, how could I not be?”

There was multiple times where Charles would've said that and not win. So him being overconfident made you remember those moments. However, you always wanted your best-friend, Charles to win every single race if you could. You both grew up dreaming about winning the constructors championship for Ferrari and here you are together working together.

Life is so unexpected and magical.

The Circuit of the Americas roared with excitement as the lights went out, marking the start of the Austin Grand Prix.

As Max and Lando fought aggressively into Turn 1, their cars went wide, forcing both drivers to compromise their exits. This split-second miscalculation opened the door for Charles and Carlos Sainz, who took full advantage. Charles made an audacious dive on the inside, slipping past not just Max and Lando but also gaining a crucial edge over his Ferrari teammate.

Suddenly, Charles found himself in P1 by the end of the first corner, with Carlos right behind him. The commentators were stunned by his opportunistic brilliance:

"Leclerc from P4 to P1! That’s unbelievable! What a move from the Ferrari driver!"

"His race-starts are on point, isn't it?", you ask Fred

"He's definitely perfected it," Fred replied

From that point on, Charles showcased a masterclass in race control. Lap after lap, he extended his lead with precision and consistency. While chaos unfolded behind him, with Max and Lando locked in a fierce battle for P3, Charles focused on maintaining a steady rhythm.

Even the pit stops—often Ferrari’s Achilles’ heel—were flawless. When Charles came in for his stop on Lap 18, the team delivered a lightning-quick turnaround, allowing him to rejoin the track without losing his lead.

"Just keep it steady, Charles. You’re doing an amazing job," his race engineer said over the radio.

"Copy. Let’s bring it home," Charles replied, his voice calm but determined.

As the final lap unfolded, the crowd at COTA erupted in cheers. Charles crossed the finish line with a commanding lead, having led every lap of the race—a feat that underscored his strategic brilliance and racecraft.

"YESSS! Let’s go, ragazzi! What a race!" Charles yelled over the team radio, his joy evident.

As the garage burst into cheers and celebrations, someone nudged your shoulder. “He’s going to be insufferable after this,” one of the engineers teased, and you laughed, shaking her head.

“I think he’s earned it,” you replied softly, unable to hide the affection in your voice

His team congratulated him on a flawless performance, and the commentators lauded his exceptional drive

Leclerc didn’t just win today—he dominated. From P4 to P1 by the first corner and never looked back. This was a perfect race from the Ferrari driver."

Your hands trembled as you lowered the headset, a wide grin spreading across your face. Pride swelled in your chest, almost overwhelming. You clapped along with the team but couldn’t shake the warmth bubbling inside you. This wasn’t just a win for Ferrari. This was a win for him

In Parc Fermé, Charles leaped out of his car, visibly elated. The Ferrari garage was a sea of red, celebrating what was undoubtedly one of their best performances of the season. Charles hugged his team members before making his way to the podium.

You had tears visible flowing down your cheek- they call it the happy tears. Your heart beaming in joy and proud.

You wanted to run out there and hug him, tell him how incredible he was. But instead, you stayed rooted, heart pounding, waiting for him to arrive in Parc Fermé

As the Monegasque driver stood on the top step, the Monegasque national anthem echoed through the Austin sky, marking a moment of triumph for both Charles and Ferrari.

As he made his way to the podium, you stayed back, watching him from the sidelines. Your heart was full, pride immeasurable. You pulled out your phone, snapping a quick photo of him standing on the top step of the podium, champagne in hand, the Monegasque flag behind him.

The camera's were all on you, Ferrari and Charles — capturing the special moment that will last an eternity.

@F1Fans: "Charles Leclerc’s drive today was a masterpiece. Calm, calculated, and utterly dominant. Driver of the day, no question."

@LeclercNation: "From P4 to P1 by Turn 1, and he never gave up the lead. Charles Leclerc is a star! #AustinGP #TeamLeclerc"

@F1Memes: "Max and Lando fighting each other in Turn 1: 'This is fine.' Charles: 'Don’t mind if I do.' #Masterclass"

@FerrariOfficial: "Victory in Austin! Charles Leclerc secures the win with an exceptional performance. A day to remember for Scuderia Ferrari! #ForzaFerrari #CharlesLeclerc"

ursername

story, 5mins ago

What a drive. Proud of you @Charles_Leclerc

When Charles returned to the garage, still beaming, he sought you out immediately.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.

You turned, laughing softly at the sight of him—his race suit slightly damp from the champagne, his hair a mess, and his face glowing with happiness.

“That was incredible,” you said as he approached, eyes sparkling with pride. “You didn’t just win—you owned that race.”

He grinned, a little bashful despite the confidence he’d displayed on track. “You think so?”

“Charles,” you said, stepping closer, voice dropping slightly. “I think the whole world knows so. That was a masterclass.”

His grin turned softer, more genuine. “Means a lot coming from you.”

For a moment, there was silence between them, just the buzz of the team celebrating in the background.

“You owe me dinner,” you teased, breaking the tension. “You promised if you won.”

He smirked, his signature charm returning. “Guess I better make it special, then. For someone who’s apparently my lucky charm.”

You rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the warmth creeping up her cheeks. “Don’t get used to it, Leclerc.”

“Oh, I’m already used to it.” His tone was playful, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something unspoken.

@F1Updates:"What a dominant win by Charles Leclerc today at the Austin GP. From P4 to P1 by Turn 1 and never looked back. #CharlesLeclerc #AustinGP"

@F1FanGirl:"Did anyone see Y/N’s story? That caption! She’s so proud of him, and honestly, same. #CharlesAndYN"

@GossipGrid:"Y/N spotted in the Ferrari garage during Charles’ win. These two are definitely giving ‘something’s going on’ vibes. 👀 #F1Drama #CharlesLeclerc"

@FerrariOfficial:"Victory is red! 🏆 Congratulations to Charles Leclerc on a flawless drive at COTA. #ForzaFerrari #AustinGP"

charles_leclerc

Another one . The team have done such an incredible job recently and it's paying off, so happy we achieved a 1-2. Thanks to everybody for the massive support too, always special to come back to the US.

liked by ursername,scuderiaferrari,joris_trouche and 10M others

maxvertsappen1 amazing masterclass bro

lewishamilton always amazing to see young generational talents winning🥇

ursername well done leclerc! 🥇

ursername

merci charles, you proved yourself right, you earned this win with pure talent and crafted art- to more wins!

liked by mlnmarta,charles_leclerc,maxverstappen1,lewishamilton and 6M others

charles_leclerc finally got a good caption huhuu

scuderiaferrari cota will be in the books!

anthoinethrouchet amazing job charles, merci y/n!

@LeclercNation:"THAT race win. THAT walk back. Charles texting someone during the press conference. Coincidence? We think not. #CharlesAndYN "

@F1Gossip:"Y/N was glowing after Charles’ win. And the way he kept looking at her? We need answers, stat. #F1Tea"

You two stepped into the elevator, the hum of the machinery filling the quiet. Charles leaned against the wall, glancing at you.

“You didn’t stick around for the real celebration,” he teased, his voice low.

You smirked, arms crossed. “I figured you’d be too busy soaking up all the glory.”

Charles tilted his head, his lips curving into that signature smirk. “Maybe. Or maybe I was saving it for someone more important.”

Her heart skipped, but you rolled your eyes, playing it cool. “Always the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Only when it works,” he shot back smoothly, the elevator dinging open just in time.

As he stepped out, he glanced back at you with a small grin. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Charles,” you whispered as the doors slid shut.

all rights reserved @bykshre

[miley1442111]

hiii!! i was wondering if you would maybe wanna write a Chef Luca x reader that takes place at the Ever funeral (they met there) and they get to tell everyone that they are engaged? that would be very cute i think

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time after time- chef luca

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting, I loved this idea and maybe got a little carried away... :)

summary: a look in at your life with luca

pairings: chef luca x fem! reader

warnings: kissing, cursing, smut (18+) (piv, oral (f reciving), fighting, anxiety, brief mention of vomit, reader gets hurt, blood, talk of injuries and stitches (i think that's it??)

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As you walked into the Ever funeral, you couldn’t help but feel the nostalgia hit you like a wave. This was where you’d learnt to cook, where you met some of your best life-long friends, and of course, Luca. As you looked at the halls you’d known so well, you couldn’t help but think about your time there, and how it had impacted you, in every way. 

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Your first day…

You walked in ten minutes early. You were supposed to be twenty minutes early, if you hadn’t had to stop and vomit before you left your new apartment. Chicago was growing on you, though you were surprised at how cold it truly got there, since you’d been living in Spain for the past couple of years. You walked through the halls, everything new, as you greeted fellow students/ chefs. Everyone knew who you were, you were supposed to be a rising star in the food world, winning the ‘Rising Chef Award’ that year for your work in Azurmendi restaurant, a michelin star restaurant in Spain. You were supposed to be the best, so when people found out you weren’t, they would have a fucking field day. 

Carmen Berzatto was quiet, but he was the person you clicked with the most. Clearly the mentally disturbed got along well, that's what you two said anyways. 

Luca was a fucking prick. He was the cockiest of cocky pieces of shit, he was acting like he owned the place, and better yet, he was fucking stunningly gorgeous. You turned to your new friend, Gilian as she swooned over the British accent, tattoos, and built arms. 

The day went by smoothly, hitting it off with other chefs in the group, but never really getting close enough to Luca to really see anything other than his cocky smirks and party-boy aura. You loved Ever already, and you were excelling. You got put with Gillian as your partner, and Carm was put with Luca, and though they both tried to switch, no one would take the other, so they were forced to deal with it. 

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Your first week…

Luca and Carmen were a match made in hell. They politely threw digs at each other right under Chef Andrea’s nose, and when they were caught, she was too fond of the both of them to actually punish them. You’d learnt that Carm had a great way of getting people to do the things he wanted them to, aka, screaming at the top of his lungs, and Luca was slower than Carm, which meant they were both equally as insufferable as each other. Like you said, match made in hell. 

You stayed late one night, trying to perfect a recipe you were supposed to send back to Azurmendi. It was beating your ass, every single time it just felt wrong. Like something was missing. 

You watched in horror as Luca walked into the kitchen, his apron on and a bowl of pastry dough in his hands. 

God, this was going to be a long night. 

“What are you making?” He asked, kneading the dough. 

“Just something for Azurmendi,” you mumbled, not exactly wanting this conversation to progress. Some of the girls had been complaining about his ‘asshole behaviour’ but what they really meant was that he was handsome and didn’t want to go out with them. 

“Can I see?’ he asked, and you nodded slowly, moving out of the way of the dish to let him try it. 

It was a deconstructed caramelised banana pudding with raspberry compote that was still missing something. He walked around the counter, his eyes on you the whole time as you absorbed yourself in the plate. It looked beautiful, but did it taste good? You’d tried a hundred and one things with it, strawberry compote, vanilla sauces, mango, everything. This was your last resort. 

He looked at the plater, moving it around to get different angles. It was a stunning presentation, he couldn’t lie. “What does it taste like?”

You shrugged. He chuckled. 

“What?” he chuckled. “Are you messing with me?”

You shook your head. “I don’t like bananas, or raspberries,” you shrugged. “You taste it and tell me.” 

He was in shock when you handed him a spoon. “You’re sure?” and you nodded.

He dug in, tasting the banana pudding, with the caramel, and the raspberry compote and… it was delicious. Probably the best thing he’d ever eaten, and from the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. See, you wouldn’t know this until years later but since the first day, he’d been looking at you. He’d wanted nothing more than to even be friends with you, he didn’t even know he;d one day become your boyfriend, then your fiancé, and soon, your husband. “That’s fucking brilliant.”

You smiled softly. “You sure?”

“Best thing I’ve ever eaten, hands down,” he nodded, taking another spoon. 

You chuckled. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, trust me, I’m not,” he said, shovelling another spoon into his mouth. “You mind if I finish this?” He asked, mouth full of the dessert. Usually stuff like that would make you gag, but Luca made it funny. You found yourself laughing. “Luca,” he smiled, holding out his hand for you to take once he’d finished his meal. 

“Y/n,” you smiled. 

“You’re really impressive, I’ve seen your stuff. I’d love to pick your brain about Azumendi, if you wouldn’t mind me geeking out about you for a few hours?” He smiled. He was pretty charismatic, and pretty well… pretty. 

“Sure,” you nodded. “When are you free?”

“Saturday night? I know this great restaurant nearby,” He smiled. 

“I’m free Saturday night,” you nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Sounds like a date to me!” Chef Andrea called from behind you two as she walked in. You two jumped apart, despite being pretty far apart to begin with. 

“I-um-you didn’t- it doesn't have to be-” you stumbled over your words as Luca watched with a crooked smile on his face. 

“It's a date,” he cut you off. “Unless you don’t want it to be.” 

You nodded. “Then I think it’s a date,” you smiled. 

Luca was sure to thank Andrea the next day. 

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Saturday night…

You got out of your chef white’s the second you got home and straight into getting ready for the date that was forty-five minutes away. You did your makeup, got dressed, then waited by the door for Luca. 

The doorbell rang and there he was, pink shirt, black slacks and that same Luca smile. He looked you up and down and smiled. “God you’re fucking gorgeous.”

You felt yourself heat up at his comment. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He smiled wider and off you went to Lorenzo’s, an Italian spot near Ever. 

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The night went off perfectly, he was sweet, funny, and he actually listened to you as you geeked out about food and restaurants and everything in between. Luca was great. 

When he dropped you back off at your apartment, you were laughing so hard you almost fell over, he caught you by the waist, pulling you into his as he chuckled. 

You didn’t realise how close he was until you noticed his breath on your cheek. Soon, the laughing was softened to sweet smiles, and he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly, much softer than you'd imagined. His lips were sweet, still tasting of the berry dessert you’d shared after your delicious meal. You pull back, a shocked smile on your face.

“I really like you,” he admitted, blushing. “And I really want to take you out again.”

You smiled. “I’d really like that.”

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. He let go of you, watching as you unlocked your apartment door. 

“Bye,” he smiled. You couldn’t resist, you pressed your lips to his again as his hands circled your waist and yours went to mess up his hair. 

“Bye,” you called after you pulled away, turning to go inside. He looked so good like that, lips red, hair slightly tousled, shocked look on his face. It was nice. He was nice. 

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One month in… 

Luca watched you as you walked into the kitchen, talking with Chef Andrea as she asked about the dish you had made in Azurmendi. He thought you were gorgeous, his eyes were always drawn to you in every room. The past month had been full of dinner dates, getting lunch, and sometimes meeting up for breakfasts before work. He was falling in love with you, and he knew it. Everything about you made him want to know more, to spend more time with you, to be with you. Granted, he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, but all that would change today. He’d decided that on your usual lunch break, he’d ask you to officially be his girlfriend. That was the right thing to do, right? 

“You good man?” Carmen asked, chewing much too loud in Luca’s opinion. 

“Fine,” he answered, finally out of his trance. 

Carmen stared at him for a moment. “You good?”

“Good Chef,” he nodded. 

“Cause it looks to me that you’re staring at Chef Y/n,” he observed. “And that means your head isn’t in the kitchen. Is your head not in the kitchen, Chef?”

“My head is as firmly in the kitchen as yours is up your ass Carm,” Luca retorted before leaving to grab his ingredients for the day. Carmen Berzatto was a dick, Luca had no idea what you saw in him as a friend. 

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You were cutting, the same as always. Then you felt the familiar nudge that CArm had been giving you in recent weeks, just a friendly tap on the back as he passed behind you. Then there was a knife in your hand. “Fuck!” More specifically, there was a huge gash in your hand. 

Everyone’s eyes shot up, all attention on you. No one moved as you grabbed your hand, blood gushing as your eyes welled up. You crouched down, holding your hand in pain. 

“Y/n-” Carm tried but Luca was quick to swoop in, kneeling beside you. 

“Are you alright? Come on, let’s go,” he held you as he led you out of the kitchen. He held you close, practically carrying you as he put you into his car, rushing you to A&E. 

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Some stitches, a lot of bandages, and a blood bag later (you’d lost a lot), you were discharged and exhausted. Chicago A&E wait times are no fucking joke. Luca drove you back to your apartment. 

“Anything I can do for you?” He asked, still worried about you. 

“Do you want to come up and we can get takeout? I need to thank you for taking care of me today,” you chuckled. He shook his head, a smile on his face.

“No need for thanking, I’m just glad that you’re ok,” he smiled. “But I will take you up on dinner, since we missed our lunch date today.”

You walked up, hand in hand (not your hurt one), and led him into your apartment. He’d never truly been inside, only getting glimpses, but he knew he’d love it. It was perfect, it was so you. Knick-knacks from you various hobbies and pictures from your life, even one of you as a kid. 

“Cute kid,” he smiled, picking up the photo. You laughed. “She’s cuter now.”

You rolled your eyes at his bad joke. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Lorenzo’s?” He offered. 

“Wow,” you chuckled. “Call back to when we first started dating.”

He nodded. So you were dating, right? “Exactly.”

“Huh, look at that,” you smiled, trying to keep up the facade of not being very nervous about this. “It’s been exactly a month since.”

“Our one month anniversary,” he smiled and your heart melted. He also thought you were actually dating, even if he hadn’t specifically called you his girlfriend, and you hadn’t explicitly said he was your boyfriend. 

He was silent for a moment, so were you. Just looking at each other.

“That means I can call you my girlfriend, right?” He asked, a bashful smile on his lips. 

You smiled back. “Yes.” 

“Good,” he groaned, pulling your waist into his. “I’ve been wanting to call you that all month.”

You chuckled. “I’m glad.”

He smiled. “So you’re my girlfriend.”

“So you’re my boyfriend,” you chuckled and he pressed his lips to yours. 

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked, pulling away. 

“I don’t think I deserve that title after crying today. I’m an ugly crier,” you chuckled. 

“You are not an ugly crier, plus it was Carmen’s fucking fault anyway,” he defended. 

You shrugged. “Things happen in the kitchen.”

“And that wouldn’t have happened if Carm was such a piece of shit,” he cursed, smiling at you. 

“Let’s just order dinner, yeah?” 

He pressed his lips to yours again. “Yeah.”

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Two months in…

You and Luca had both had a shit day, nothing had gone right in the kitchen, you’d burnt yourself, and Carmen was really getting on Luca’s nerves, to the point of a screaming match during lunch. 

He pushed you up against the counter as he pressed searing kisses to your lips and neck. You were boiling, despite the freezing kitchen.

“Luc,” you groaned. You and Luca hadn’t gone further than heavy making out, and something told you that Luca wasn’t slowing down this time. It was late, you were the only two still there, who could it hurt?

He pulled your t-shirt over your head pressing a kiss to your clavicle. “So gorgeous.”

“Luca, someone could come in,” You hissed as he pressed kisses down your torso. “Luca!”

He looked up from between your legs, eyes dark and hair messy, and a part of you just didn’t care. You wanted him. “Please baby.”

You nodded, a smile on your face. He pulled off your jeans and underwear in one fluid movement as you lay back. 

“So pretty baby,” he pressed kisses to the insides of your thighs as you started overthinking the entire situation. Someone could just come in, anyone, even Andrea, you had no fucking idea. Also, did Luca actually want to do this? Most guys didn’t like eating pussy, and you didn’t even know the last time you’d shaved. 

He finally pressed his tongue against your clit and your brain short- circuited. “Luca!” You moaned, putting a hand in his hair. “Fuck Luca, there!”

Luca added a finger, then two, until you were writhing on the table, fucking you past your first orgasm and into another one, as he moaned along like he was being pleasured by this.  He didn’t stop sucking and fucking your pussy with his tongue for a long time, despite how hard he was in his boxers, despite how much he wanted to fuck you. You tasted incredible, something he could only dream of recreating, oh, that was a good idea… Anyway, he fucked you through two orgasms, then stood back up. 

You whined at the loss of contact as he unzipped his trousers, taking out his cock. God, he was big. Big, and fucking thick. “Luca I-”

“Are you on birth control?” He asked, spreading some of your slick over his cock and stroking himself.

You nodded. He smiled. 

“Good girl.”

And with that, he pushed into you in one painful thrust. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his to yours in a searing kiss. He let you adjust, then slowly started moving.   

“Faster,” you begged. “Faster Luca.”

He was all too happy to oblige. 

And that’s how your first time fucking Luca was in the kitchen of Ever. 

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The big fight…

It had been a shit fucking week. Chicago was cold and damp, and your bike had gotten a flat on your way home from work. Shitty. On Monday, your trainee burnt you, then blamed you. On Tuesday, you didn’t even see Luca, he was too busy at Ever. On Wednesday, you smashed your phone screen. On Thursday, Luca’s mother called to say she was visiting next week, with absolutely no warning, so that meant you had to sort out your new apartment all night. 

Shitty. 

Luca barged in, angry from the week. All week he had been fucking up. Small mistake no one should be making, let alone him. Worst part? He hadn’t seen you all week. But there you were, sitting on the couch with a book, snuggled into a throw blanket. 

“Hey,” he called out. No reply. “Baby?” No reply. “Babe!”

No reply. “Fine, fucking be like that.”

Luca marched into the bathroom, his anger bubbling. 

You hadn’t even seen him enter, too engrossed in your novel and the music in your earphones to look up. After about an hour of reading, you left your cosy spot on the couch, retiring to the bedroom. And there he was, your Luca, lying in bed. 

“Hey,” you smiled, climbing into bed beside him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he scoffed, pulling away from you. “You never fucking listen anyways.”

You were taken aback. Why the fuck was he being so pissy? “What?”

“It’d be great if you could even give me, your fucking boyfriend, a singular moment of your time, but I see that that’s too much to ask, so I’ll just go fuck myself.”

“Luca, what is wrong with you?” You huffed, confused at his words. 

“Maybe I’ve had a shitty week alright? And maybe I wanted to spend time with you but you were too busy with your book to even fucking see me!” 

You sighed. “Luc, I had headphones in, I couldn’t fucking hear you.”

“Oh yeah? And how many times have I asked you to turn down the volume or take one out so you can hear the world around you?” He asked condescendingly. 

“Baby, you’re not meant to be home until 11 most nights, not 7:30. I thought I had time!” 

“I sent you a text about it and all!”

“I wasn’t on my phone!” you defended. 

He sighed. “I’m not doing this right now,” and he walked out of your bedroom, and out of the apartment. 

And you were alone. What had just happened?

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Luca took a walk to clear his head, but he just felt worse. He was being a dick and he knew it, but he was just so stressed. Work was hard, and you were the only one who made him feel good enough. And recently, since you’d transferred to another restaurant he’d been wondering if he was good enough in the  kitchen, and for you. 

You were amazing, countless chef awards, you’re a beautiful, stunning woman, but you were also kind, patient, and funny. 

Was he enough for you?

 And that night, it had all just exploded. 

He walked back into the apartment to find you on the couch, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, nose running. He felt awful. 

“I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered, kneeling in front of you. “I’m such an arsehole.”

“Yeah you are,” you sniffled. “But so am I. I’m sorry about the headphones.”

He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was just stressed this week, and I’m just taking it out on you. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

You both froze. In your year and a half of dating, neither of you had been brave enough to admit that you loved each other, obviously, you both knew and felt the love, but neither of you had been brave enough to do it. 

“Oh,” you said, and Luca looked up, a shocked look on his face. “I love you too,” you blurted out. 

He smiled. “Good, I'm glad.” 

You chuckled. “Me too.”

You both burst out laughing. 

“That was so diplomatic!” you giggled. 

“Who says ‘oh’ after someone says they love them?” Luca laughed, pulling you into his arms as you laughed. 

Your fight had been long forgotten in a matter of seconds. 

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“Thinking about things?” Luca squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. He smirked at you. 

“Maybe?” You smiled, holding him closer. “You?”

“Of course I am,” he whispered. “You looked so gorgeous on the counter-”

“Shut the fuck up!” You groaned. 

Andrea suddenly appeared in front of  you two, a bright smile on her face. “My two chefs!”

“Andrea!” You smiled, pulling her in for a hug. Andrea had always been one of your biggest supporters (well, her and Luca), always calling when she heard something new about your restaurant, and even coming to visit when she was in London. 

“How are you two?” She asked. You smiled at Luca, who smiled back. 

“We’re engaged,” you beamed, showing off the beautiful ring Luca had given to you, just a week ago. 

“Oh my god!” she squealed. “What wonderful news!”

“What’s the wonderful news?” Carmen butted in, a smile on his face. 

“We’re engaged,” Luca answered. 

“Shit, congratulations!” He smiled, pulling you both in for a hug. 

“Well, that is going to be one amazing wedding,” Andrea added. “Who’s your caterer?” She joked.

You both laughed. It felt good. It felt good to be this loved.

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the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[raven-dor]

i'll be watching you

in which steve harrington can’t stop thinking about the one girl who believed in him

PAIRING: steve harrington x fem!reader, dustin henderson x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, realization, ANGST ANGST ANGST, nostalgia, hurt/comfort, CRAZY amounts of yearning, obliviousness

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

🎶 : every breath you take - the police

AN: 🩵💛💗♥️ - this hurt to write... enjoy!! (also the 'present' is the mid 90's, so Steve and you are in your late 20's)

Steve was utterly confused. First, he decides, of his own volition, to apologize to Jonathan Wheeler. Then, he knocks on the boy’s door to find Y/N, panic evident in her expression and her hand bleeding. 

He bursts in, worried about her safety, to then find that his girlfriend is also there, with a gun pointed at his face.

He was then dragged through the Wheeler’s house away from some sort of creature before finally being ushered out by Y/N, her words haunting him as he opened the car door. “I don’t want you wrapped up in this, Steve. Just leave it alone.” 

Why would she care? And why could she be involved, but not him? No, Steve thought to himself as he grabbed his bat, she could not go through this alone. (He would later reference this moment as the second his feelings for her grew past friendship.) Screams rang through the Byers property, and Steve burst through the door once more, swinging his bat and slamming the monster square in the face. 

Y/N was on the floor, grinning wildly at the boy before her. “Steve!” He ran over, extending his hand and pulling her into his arms. “What are you-” 

“Don’t tell me to leave it alone ever again.” He whispered.

She nodded, hugging him tightly. “Fine.” 

A cough interrupted their moment, and they pulled apart, remembering where they were. Y/N laughed, nudging the King of Hawkins lightly. “You’re quite the hero.” 

A chill ran down his spine, and he clenched his eyes shut. She made him crazy sometimes.

Steve groaned, shoving his face further into his pillow. Not again, he thought. This had been the third time this week he’d woke up this early. Every time it was the same, it was almost like he was going back in time, his dreams exactly as they had been in real life. 

And every time it revolved around her. 

He rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Why couldn’t he have a dream about puppies or his dream job?

His alarm clock rang, and his heart dropped. “Shit!” Jumping out of bed, he sprinted to the bathroom, fixing his hair as best he could in two minutes.

His real shift at his very real job started in ten minutes.

“Y/N!” 

God, she forgot how dismal this gym could be. All the horrible memories of middle school gym class came rushing back. Over by the locker room is where Tracy C. tripped her ‘on accident.’ The bleachers were where she’d sit when she wasn’t picked for dodgeball. 

And by the exit door was where she would secretly cheer for Steve as he played basketball. 

She was sure some of these kids, at least the ones she knew, had had the same happen to them. The doors to the gym opened for the hundredth time, Dustin Henderson walking through with what Y/N could only identify as a Steve Harrington special. 

She waved at the boy, smiling brightly as he walked across the gym to meet her.

She hoped he hadn’t seen her space out.

“Are you okay?” 

So he had. Y/N smiled, nodding. “Of course I am, now that you’re here.” He blushed. “You look very handsome, Dustin.” 

“Thank you.” He grinned. “Steve helped me.” 

“Really?” She smiled, laughing to herself. “That’s really nice of him.” 

“We’re friends now!” Dustin was still grinning. “He drove me here.” 

Her eyes darted toward the entrance, and the young boy’s face fell ever so slightly. “He said he doesn’t want to come in because…” He motioned for Y/N to lean down, whispering in her ear. “Because of Nancy.” 

Of course, how could she forget about Nancy? She loved her friend, but her heart ached to think about Steve’s undying love for her. “Ah.” She locked her lips, figuratively throwing away the key. “Your secret is safe with-” 

“Henderson.” 

She looked up, locking eyes with Steve’s instantly. He was beautiful in that color, she realized. It brought out the gold in his eyes.

“Wow.” Steve smiled shyly, rubbing a hand on his neck. “You-” 

“Are you kidding me?” He murmured as his eyes peeled open. 

This had to stop. 

He already deeply regretted his life choices, and now he couldn’t even escape them in sleep. He drove to work grumpily, parked his car grumpily, and stood at the Family Video counter grumpily. Robin laughed, shaking her head. 

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” 

He glared, sticking his tongue out. “Good morning to you too, Robin.” 

“You’ve been pissy lately,” Robin said it like it was a fact like everyone in Hawkins had been talking about it. “What’s up, Harrington?” 

“I-” He couldn’t tell Robin, she would never let him live this down. No, this was the type of thing you kept to yourself, driving yourself crazy until- “Just had a rough night.” 

“Okay.” Her shoulders deflated, grabbing the cart full of VHS tapes. “Let me know when you want to tell the truth.” 

“Shit, shit shit.” Y/N’s eyes were glassy as she clung to Steve’s side, supporting him as he walked. “Why’d you have to be the hero?” 

“That’s part of my-” He winced, laughing as her face grew even more worried. “Part of my charm, babe.” 

Y/N ignored the way her cheeks flushed, leaning him against the giant boulder. “Just be quiet.”

He nodded, leaning his head back in pain. “No problem.” 

“Really?” She scoffed, muttering thanks as Robin handed her cloth to wrap around his (chiseled) abdomen. “You scared me, you know.” 

Her voice was soft, much softer than normal. It sounded weak; scared even. He frowned, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t mean to.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you did, Harrington.”

“Can you just-” He sighed. “Can you look at me? You haven’t met my eyes since you’ve gotten down here.” 

She shook her head, trying her best to wipe away the dirt from his gaping wound. “I really hope this doesn’t get infected.” 

“Y/N, come on.” He smiled, forcing himself not to cry out in pain. “Look at me.” 

“I think Eddie’s-” Robin received a hard glare from Steve, and she nodded, walking away without another word. 

Her face felt hot, eyes watery as she looked up at him. He grinned, whispering so that only they could hear. “There she is.”

“Here I am.” She whispered back, tears falling down her cheeks freely. “Now can I-” 

“I’m so mad at you right now.” 

Her head cocked to the side. “What?” She must have misheard him. 

“You heard me.” His tone was tense, but his eyes told a different story. “I said to stay in the boat, didn’t I? Don’t follow after me.” He scoffed, flailing his arms, pain ringing through his aching muscles. “And what did you do? You followed me.” 

“As opposed to what? Watching helplessly as you were dragged into hell?” She stood up, glaring. “Would you rather have died down here?” More tears fell as she stared, hissing at him so the others couldn’t hear. “You don’t have to do everything alone!” 

“I know that-” 

“Then why can’t I follow after you? Huh?” She glared. “You’re not the boss of-” 

“I didn’t want you wrapped up in this!” He yelled, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin jumping at the sound. “You should’ve left it alone.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, last I checked, I was involved first.” She yelled back. “Now shut up so I can fix you.” She knelt again, tying the cloth Robin gave her earlier gently around him. An uncomfortable silence fell over them before she spoke once more. “Just be careful, alright? I can’t do this without you.” 

“Y/N…” His eyes were watering, from the pain or what she said, he couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry.” 

“Good.” She wiped the dirt from her hands. “I’m sorry too, I guess.” She stood up, muttering. “Even though I have no reason to apologize.” 

He laughed, reaching out for her hold. “Could I-” 

“Yes! Yeah, of course.” His arm expertly laid around her shoulders, and in another life, they could have walked through Hawkins High like this. “Please stop acting like the hero. I can’t bear it.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes full of desperation, and his heart skipped. Shit. “Yeah.” 

He nodded, kissing her temple gently. “Whatever you want, babe.” 

“Hey!” Eddie’s voice interrupted whatever was happening between them. “Why don’t you take a break? I can take care of Harrington for a bit.” 

“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned, not even bothering to look at her best friend, still staring up at Steve with that dangerous look in her eyes. “I really don’t mind.” 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “You’ve done enough for me to last a lifetime. I’ll be okay.” 

She looked hurt, but let go of Steve regardless. “Alright, he’s all yours, Munson.” 

Eddie waited until she was by Robin and Nancy to speak. “She was the first one to dive in after you.”

Steve smiled. “Really?”

Eddie nodded. “You know she likes you, right?” 

“I know.” He laughed as he watched her jump on Robin’s back. “I like her too.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie placed a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Just, don’t hurt her, okay? She seems strong, but…” 

“I won’t.” Steve was so confident in it, so sure. “I would never do anything to hurt her.” 

His latest dream had thrown him for a loop. Eddie, a man he was never close with in school, died hours after that. God, he thought as he ran through the streets of his neighborhood, that had been the last time he’d talked to the metalhead. 

His shower was cold, and not because he forgot to pay the water bill. He’d made it cold on purpose, maybe this was how he would stop having these dreams. 

Lately, they felt closer to nightmares. This one, in particular, had reminded him of how close they'd been, of how hard Y/N had taken it when Eddie had died. It had never been the right time to ask her, he kept telling himself, even after she left, and he stayed. 

'Never the right time' had been his downfall. 

Work had been the same, a mother asking for a children’s movie, a teenager who was obviously not old enough to rent an R-rated movie asking where they could find one, and an older couple asking for Gone With The Wind. The door rang for the fourth time that day, and he recited the same old boring greeting. “Welcome to Family Video, do you need-” He looked up, his breath catching in his throat. 

It couldn’t be. 

“It’s been a while, Harrington.” She laughed, and his heart fluttered. God, her laugh was still the most perfect sound he’d ever heard. “Are you doing alright?” 

“I-” He grinned. Was this real? It had to be- nope, he had officially losing it. He should have opened up to Robin when he had the chance.

“Hello?” She stepped forward, giggling. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re spacing out on me. That’s my thing, you know. Not yours.” 

He laughed. “You look-” 

“Mama!” A little boy ran through the front door, clinging to Y/N’s leg. 

Steve’s head felt like it was spinning. 

“Hey, babe.” A man, around their age, walked up beside her, kissing her cheek gently. She grinned, leaning into his hold. “I tried to entertain him in the parking lot-” 

“It’s fine, honey.” She smiled, looking back at Steve with a sort of melancholy look. “This is Steve.” 

Steve waved, and the man waved back. Y/N’s cheeks were red, and in any normal situation, Steve would have laughed. She was cute when she was flustered. 

Right now, he couldn't find it in him to tease. He just wanted to curl up on the floor and die. “This is my husband Nick, and our son, Edmund.”

“No!” The little boy’s shrill yell livened up the place. 

Y/N laughed, looking down endearingly. “No, huh?” 

He nodded. “My name is Eddie.” 

Steve’s heart dropped, tears forming in his eyes as he stared at Y/N. Her husband laughed too, kneeling. “Kiddo, your nickname is Eddie. Your name is-” 

“Eddie!” 

‘Nick’ just laughed again, standing up. “There’s no convincing this one, I’m afraid.” 

Y/N stared back at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction. He finally spoke, finally said a full sentence for the first time since she’d walked in. “It’s a good name, Eddie.” 

She nodded, her eyes growing teary. “It is.” 

She was just as perfect as the last time he’d seen her. Radiant, happy, glowing, all things she was now. He knew, deep down, if he had told her that he loved her, she would have stayed, put her life on hold to be with him. And that - that was Steve’s worst nightmare. 

She had an actual chance, to leave, to make something of herself, and he wasn’t going to be the reason she never achieved it. He hadn’t, as he stared helplessly at her family, heart officially breaking when her husband set his hand on her growing stomach. “I get to name the next one.” 

Y/N shook her head, smacking his chest playfully. “I thought you said you liked Edmund.” 

“Kidding, babe.” He looked at Steve, smiling awkwardly. “Did you two know each other well?” 

Steve shook his head before he could think. “Just knew each other from school.” How do you tell the love of your life’s husband that you fought monsters together? He was almost sure Y/N hadn’t told him, and Steve didn’t blame her. He’d never told anyone either. “She was always the smart one, no one could keep up.” 

She wiped the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, laughing. “I wouldn’t say that…” 

Nick, who was really a nice guy, Steve would later realize (even if he hated his guts at that moment) nodded. “You still are.” He looked at Steve again, laughing. “She runs circles around me. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.” He kissed Y/N on the cheek, staring at her the way Steve wished he could. “Keeps me young.” 

That had made Steve laugh. Damn it. Y/N had laughed too, rolling her eyes. “You're 29, Nick. Not exactly old here.” 

“Speak for yourself.” Nick clapped his hands, grabbing Edmund from his wife’s leg. “Have any cartoons for this one?” 

Steve nodded, leading them down the aisles toward the kid's section. “Aladdin’s a good one.” 

Eddie had lost energy as quickly as he’d gained it, Nick carrying him to the car with a haphazard ‘nice to meet you’ thrown in Steve’s general direction. 

Y/N stood in front of the counter, handing Steve the cash for the movie. Her tone was light as she spoke, almost like no time had passed. “He’s a good kid.” 

Steve smiled. “Takes after his mother.” 

“He-” Her voice sounded thick, and she stared at him with something Steve couldn’t quite place. “I hope you’re doing okay, really.” 

He nodded. That seemed to be all he could do now. “I am.” 

“Well…” She clapped her hands, walking back. “I’ll see you.” 

She pushed the door open, sparing one last look before disappearing from his sight.

Maybe, he thought to himself as his very soul began to die, it would have been better just to go mad. Go mad thinking about what could have been, rather than seeing her and realizing she had everything he'd hoped for.

Just not with him.

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[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part 37)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Pregnancy

When your father told you about his plans to visit Cillian's holiday house in Dingle with you, it made your stomach tighten with worry. You didn’t like the idea of spending more time with him after your brief and secret love affair ended suddenly, and you tried almost everything to avoid it.

"I really can't go," you said firmly, tugging at your shirt and avoiding your father's eyes. But he insisted you had to come, saying Nina would want you there to cheer her up.

"Yes, you can. You just left your job at the café, the play in Galway won't begin for another four weeks, and Nina really needs a friend by her side right now," he said, leaning in as if trying to persuade you with his sincerity. "And really, it would be good for you to take a break," he said. And of course, you knew that without you, Nina wouldn't want to go either.

You let out a sigh and rubbed your temples while thinking about what he said. "Alright," you finally agreed, feeling disheartened but determined. "But I'm taking my own car, okay?" you said, looking straight at him.

Dermont smiled, feeling relieved. "Sure. You and Nina can drive down there together on Friday," he said, his eyes shining with excitement. "It will be good for both of you to take a break from everything."

You nodded, feeling your stomach tighten again as you thought about the drive to Dingle, fully aware of how close you would be to him. To the man you still loved, who was also your best friend's dad.

***

As Friday came closer, excitement filled the air, and every moment added to the feeling of suspense.

"I'm picking you up at ten," you said to Nina while putting the last of your bags into the back seat of your old, worn-out car, feeling the heavy pressure of the trip ahead.

"I'll be ready," she said, putting her phone in her pocket with excitement shining in her eyes.

"I'll text you when I leave," you said, feeling a knot of tension in your stomach as you packed the last item in the back—Cillian's birthday gift, which you had bought before he broke things off.

You found an old book at a small, charming shop in Dublin, and its faded cover made it even more appealing. It was a first edition of one of his favourite novels, combining both nostalgia and admiration.

When you sat in the driver's seat, you felt a wave of doubt, but you ignored it.

"Relax, everything will be okay," you quietly told yourself, holding the steering wheel tightly as you drove to Nina's house, arriving about an hour later.

When you drove onto her street, you saw Nina already waiting for you with a suitcase that seemed bigger than needed.

She waved excitedly, smiling brightly even though her eyes held a hint of sadness.

"Are you ready for a four-hour road trip?" she asked with a cheerful tone, though a bit of doubt slipped through. You smiled, hiding your own worries.

"Always," you said, trying to hide your nervousness as Nina climbed into the passenger seat and dropped her suitcase with a thud onto the floor behind her.

"Did you pack enough for a month?" you asked and Nina laughed, shaking her head as she buckled her seatbelt and you drove off.

"Only the basics," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Snacks, clothes, and things like that," she said, laughing and making the tight feeling in your stomach fade away.

***

After four hours and two long podcasts, you finally arrived at Cillian's holiday house, a cozy and rustic place that felt warm and welcoming.

You had visited the place many years ago, but it looked different now with renovations and new decorations that showcased the beautiful coastal views.

When you got out of the car, the salty wind played with your hair and brought the sound of laughter from inside.

"You made it," Cillian said warmly as he stepped onto the porch, his smile both comforting and a little eerie.

"Yeah," you said, your throat feeling dry as Cillian hugged his daughter Nina.

"That's enough, Dad," she said with a laugh, stepping back and rolling her eyes, though her smile still showed warmth.

"Uhm, do you guys want to come inside then?" Cillian stepped aside, gesturing toward the open door, the inviting warmth of the living room spilling out into the cool evening air.

"Sure, I’m curious to see what changes you’ve made. It’s been such a long time," you said, keeping your tone casual. As you walked in, the warm light of the living room greeted you, with walls decorated by photos from cheerful holidays.

"Make yourself at home," Cillian said, his voice low, almost intimate as you set your bag down, feeling the weight of unspoken words hang heavy in the air and, just as you walked through to the living room, you were met by your father, Cillian's brother Paddy and a young man you had not met before.

"You must be Y/N," said the 22-year-old with a bright smile, holding out his hand to greet.

"Yeah," you said, shaking his hand while noticing his relaxed and charming manner.

"That's my cousin Max," Nina said, her voice full of warmth and recognition. "I don’t think you two have met yet, have you?" she continued, while Max smiled, the sunlight highlighting the freckles on his nose.

"No, I don't think so," you said, feeling curious as you walked further into the room and looked back at him. "Nice to meet you, Max," you said with a small, shy smile.

"Nice to meet you too," Max said with a bright smile, his eyes full of excitement, while his uncle Cillian stood nearby, watching over them with a protective look.

"So, how was the drive here?" he then eventually asked, cutting into your conversation with Max. His tone was light but cautious, as if trying to sense the mood in the room while Paddy and your father were chatting.

"Long, but not too bad," you said, nervously brushing your fingers against your jeans as you felt both Cillian and Max watching you.

Cillian nodded, a hint of warmth appearing on his face. "Good. It's nice to have you both here," he said, trying to make small talk. You looked around more nervously until, at last, Nina spoke.

"What’s the plan for today?" Nina asked with excitement, as she sat down on a soft couch.

"Pizza and a few movies," her dad said, looking between you and Nina with a warm expression.

"Pizzas and a couple of movies?" Nina chuckled. "Jesus, you guys really are old," she teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

Cillian crossed his arms, a mock frown creasing his forehead. "Hey, we make a mean pizza," he replied, a grin breaking through his feigned annoyance.

"Yeah, maybe, but didn’t you come here to party or something?" Nina asked, while Cillian raised an eyebrow, a playful look in his deep blue eyes.

"No, I actually wanted a quiet one," he replied, making his brother and your father nod in agreement before they showed you their plans for some short trips to the nearby cliffs and villages.

***

Around six o'clock, while you were sitting on the patio with Nina and your father, discussing meditation techniques to help your friend's anxiety, Cillian, Paddy, and Max were in the kitchen, laughing as they rolled out dough and spread sauce on the counter.

"This is the best recipe, believe me," said Cillian's brother, making Cillian raise an eyebrow. The kitchen was messy, with flour covering every surface like snow.

"We'll see," Cillian said with a laugh, tossing a bit of dough at his brother.

"We make these pizzas at home all the time. They're amazing, believe me," Max said with a smile as he skilfully threw the dough into the air.

Cillian rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling as flour sprinkled over both of them like confetti. "Alright, I trust you," he said with a laugh, slicing some tomatoes and passing them to his brother.

"Can you leave the tomatoes off one of them though?" Cillian said, making Paddy raise an eyebrow.

"Why?" he asked. "Tomatoes are the best," he told Cillian before shaking his head and sprinkling some flour onto the counter.

"Because Y/N doesn't like them unless they are in a sauce," he replied, glancing toward the patio where you and Nina laughed, completely oblivious to the kitchen chaos.

"That's thoughtful of you," Paddy said. "And very specific," he said with a playful grin, but Cillian paid no attention, his mind drifting to thoughts of you as he watched the laughter flowing from the patio.

“So, about Y/N,” Max started as he brushed flour off his hands onto his jeans, his expression turning curious while he looked at his uncle.

"Yeah, what about her?" Cillian questioned, instantly on edge as his eyes sharply returned to his nephew.

Max smirked, a playful glint shining in his eyes. "She seems cool," he remarked, though with a hint of hesitation. "Is she seeing anyone, do you know?" he asked, and Cillian's jaw clenched as he pondered the question, memories of you flooding his mind—your laughter, your kindness, and how everything felt brighter with you there.

"Not that I'm aware of," he responded, his tone calm but guarded. "Why?" he inquired, and Max gave a shrug, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"She just seems... interesting," he confessed candidly, prompting his father, Paddy, to pause his work and raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Interesting how?" Cillian said, his tone monotonous as he observed the enthusiasm on Max's face.

"Well, yeah,” Max replied with a shrug, a faint trace of mischief playing on his lips. "I am just saying she seems fun, you know?” Max queried and, again, Cillian clenched his jaw while pondering the consequences.

"I understand what you're saying, Max, but she's dealing with a lot right now," Cillian responded, adjusting his stance as his protective nature emerged. "I don’t think she’s paying much attention to boys at the moment," he remarked, prompting a laugh from his brother.

"I believe your uncle is suggesting that you might not stand a chance with her, son," Paddy joked with his son, confident that he would move on from it swiftly.

Max smiled, unaffected by his father's remark. "Can't I give it a try?" he questioned with steady confidence, meticulously shaping the pizza dough with deliberate precision.

Cillian cast a sidelong glance at him, a mix of amusement and protectiveness in his expression. "Of course you can, but just manage your expectations," he said with a light chuckle, as his brother joined the conversation.

"And make sure Dermont doesn't catch on to you," Max's father cautioned, giving his son a knowing, faintly amused glance, while Cillian returned a blank stare, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile.

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[beefycupcakes]

I watched the Cars trilogy recently and with that came a wave of nostalgia and a strange desire to make my own designs for the cars as humans. Aka taking all the charm out of Cars but scratching the brain itch.

So, no need to drag out the intro any longer, I have some notes written out about em for those who might be interested or just bored.

Lightning McQueen:

I tried to make his suit look as professional as possible, with references pulled straight from McQueen's paint job/stickers, while also keeping in mind that I do intend to draw him more so I didn't want to go too crazy with the design. In a perfect world I would've let my maximalist cravings win, but alas let's keep it digestible for my sanity.

I feel like everyone's kinda on this unspoken agreement that McQueen as a human would pretty much look just like Owen Wilson, and that's the big picture here. I used Wilson as inspiration while tweaking and exaggerating a few things to my preference. (Okay, well not everyone, lmao.)

The chevron markings on the front cut off at the side seams not wrapping around the entire suit as to not clash with the sponsor logo on the back.

Also, he's wearing special gloves to help him grip & have control over the steering wheel. I think sometimes that looks a little weird when his sleeves are down & cuffed, but I just feel like he needs to have the gloves there— especially when he comes out of the top half of the suit. (It's also lowkey supposed to mirror his 4 tires when you consider his shoes are also black.)

So yeah, that's basically all I have to to say regarding Lightning McQueen's page. I feel like a lot of my design choices are self explanatory and, honestly probably shared universally... I mean, he's really cut & dry. (But I love him ⚡︎)

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Mater:

I'm not gonna lie, Mater was a bit challenging for me. I definitely had to step out of my comfort zone but I wanted to stay true to the character and not butcher anything.

My first thought was to give him a fishing pole to substitute for the tow hook— but then the more I was thinking about it, the more that felt so... out of place? Radiator Springs is in Arizona, which is (not entirely, but mostly depicted in the movie as) a desert. And even though there are beautiful bodies of water in Arizona, in the movie I don't recall seeing any prominent ones, at least in relation to Mater. So, scratch that, instead I gave him a lasso, which isn't supposed to entirely substitute for the tow truck— no, he still drives a tow truck, but the lasso is so he can grab people/things similarly to Tow Truck Mater (very cartoony). My explanation for this is the cattle ranch. Yeah, Mater is a tow truck driver but perhaps he has a side hustle, or hobby, if you will.

Also, I didn't want to make him... dirty(??) Like, yeah, of course, Mater would obviously get a bit filthy from time to time, it's just in his nature, but that is NOT going to be the core of my design. In regards to the rust happening on him, I felt like instead I would substitute this with being very tan. Again, Arizona is a desert. Because of this, he would take off his shirt often, and this would substitute for the missing hood like on Tow Truck Mater. The removal of the shirt also reveals just how tan Mater actually is.

It's his uniformed overalls that have his original aqua color, but from years of wear & tear they've been patched up with brown patches, this would also reference the rusting. The one strap is supposed to mimic the one headlight being broken, and I know that's a stretch, believe me, I wanted to do something with his eyes but eyes are not the headlights in the Cars universe..... think about this. Think about it really hard... if you know what the headlights are in the Cars universe then this actually makes perfect sense.

He is taller and wider than McQueen, which is a reference to the literal frame of their vehicle counterparts. (A little hard to picture with these images, but eventually I'll draw them together!)

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That's all I have to say really, but do let me know what you guys think! Gas it up and it might encourage me to make a part 2 with some of the other characters! Who would you like to see next? ♡ Thank you so much for reading & have a great day, Kachow!!

[iamthetruenhaz]

Russia's prep work

I originally wrote this as a reply to a reddit comment about the prep work Putin's Russia has done to reconquer Eastern Europe (and Central Asia) and soften up the West in order to "reclaim" the "lost" global power status the USSR had.

Putin* has been prepping his "reconquering" of Eastern Europe and Central Asia since he stepped into office. He took on an openly anti-western course since the Munich speech in 2007. He probably saw American global dominance weakening following Afghanistan and Iraq and because Russia had stabilised after the 90s, he thought it was time to act.

First he paved the way with the Chechen war where he "won" and got to jump on the War on terror bandwagon and use Islamic terrorism as a boogeyman for his own imperialistic purpose to rile up Russians against external threats.

Then he invaded Georgia to probe the soil and see how the west would react. They mostly ignored him so he went on to meddle in Eastern European politics, coerce Ukraine for gas and fund right-wing parties all across Europe (at the time mostly to drive a wedge between Eastern and Western Europe and suck EE countries back into Russian orbit) while pumping anti-western sentiment and Soviet nostalgia at home.

He saw that the west was disunited because of the US-UK-EU split following the wars in Iraq, Libya and Syria. He capitalized on that in several ways using both the wars and the refugee crisis that followed. One, to increase racist and nationalist propaganda and stir up hatred against "the liberal gay western cabal" and the resulting Euroscepticism. Two, to prop up the "proper" traditionalist Russia as an alternative. Three, to paint Eastern European countries as a puppet of the US liberals who were "ackschually" nazis in disguise, which was easy when the West was divided between trying to coax them into the EU and leaving them as a buffer-zone backwater. The brightest example of the latter was in late 2021 when Lukashenko started dumping Middle Eastern migrants on the Polish border so the Poles could be painted as a racist, white supremacist state. Unlike, you know, Belarus (really Russia) which weaponized the migrants.

Then he failed in Ukraine when his puppet's sharp turn away from a planned EU accession path caused the Euromaidan revolts. Pro-Russian protesters soon spawned, staging provications (my own country had a wave of protests and pro-russian counter-protests back then and I remember neonazis and other paid protesters being at the forefronts). Russian media started hurling accusations of nazism against pro-western protesters.

All of a sudden, it's like a switch was flipped in Russian society. Decommunization was out the window. In 2015, Stalin was chosen as the most influential figure in *world* history by Russians. All the anti-Western, Russian irredentist, traditionalist, racist and homophobic sentiments coalesced into one, directed against the "evil nazi gay jewish West". Putin started openly provoking the West with displays of military force, close flybys in territorial waters, playing Cuban missile crisis in Kaliningrad. All to rack up the atmosphere of an imminent Cold War II and maybe even WWIII where a "wronged", "humiliated" Russia would finally make the West pay. The WWII victory celebrations also took on the appearance of a war cult, with jingoistic slogans like "we can do it again", "to Berlin" and "we're coming for the German women" displayed on every 9th May parade. Eastern European countries, especially the Baltics and Poland, noticed and tried to raise alarm, but were mostly told to keep their paranoia down and ignored.

In the last decade, he used his military and propaganda machine (what we call "hybrid warfare") to create the impression of the following: (1) The West is imperialist (and is being hypocritical about it), waging pointless bloody wars in the Middle East; (2) The West is weak in those wars, causing Russia to step in like in Syria and deal with the issue "properly"; (3) Western democracies are weak in dealing with "barbaric" refugees because they're too greedy not to let them in but too soft to throw the bad apples out (this was used to boost nationalism and Euroscepticism).

By those means, Russian propaganda managed to manipulate both anti-imperialist and nationalist groups within the West as well as in Russia and Eastern Europe and pave the way for its "just war" of "reconquering" Eastern Europe. In the West, the image of Eastern Europe was molded as either "poor backwards savages we're better off without" (for nationalists), "paranoid silly yokels crying wolf about Russia who is now playing nice" (for moderates), "ingrates not worth defending so we'll pull out" (for Trump-like US conservatives) or "backwards homophobic barbarians we don't want here because they'll ruin our utopia" (for progressivists). In Russia, they were portrayed as "lost property", accused them of being "taken over by nazis" anytime they tried to acknowledge any of the repressions suffered from USSR, and "unconscious puppets of the West" and routinely threatened with "annexation in 3 days" whenever they "misbehaved" by taking a stance against Russia's politics, whether past or current. Finally, in Eastern European countries themselves, Russia tried to ruin the image of the liberal West by portraying them as "the real fascists", "liberalism gone so far it circled back to fascism" and to prop up its own image as the "savior from debauchery upholding the good ols ways".

Also worth noting that Putin was all too eager to intervene in any country that tried to reject Russian dominance or even its own pro-Russian dictatorship. He was ready to support Belarus in 2020 and intervened in Kazakhstan in 2022 just a month before the invasion of Ukraine.

So yeah, it was quite the prep work. All to ensure that when he went on his imperialistic crusade in EE, people at home and in the West and even in Eastern Europe itself would applaud him, failing that be indifferent, failing THAT remain unheard.

* by "Putin" I don't necessarily mean just him, but the lobby behind him as well.

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hey there! I might have an oddly specific request, but like. I am craving a trope but I am too lazy to write anything myself. Feel free to not accept this :"D

Could you write maybe like a *micro* oneshot about Boothill finding his past lover (from before his planet got nuked), but here's the thing, the lover did an ftm transition, so Boothill may have not realised at first.

And secondly, there is a child. Boothill's, but he had no idea.

The circumstances under what they reconnect is up to you. Wether it's fluff or angst, also.

Thank you in advance, cool writer person!<3

🌑felt that first part😭 ALSO this idea is so good rAAAH I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IIITT (idk if this sucks but i hope i did this wonderful idea justice my dear, i poured all my love into this ❤️)

ALSO ALSO listened to 'Would you fall in love with me again' on loop writing this cuz the vibes are immaculate :)

Warnings: Spoilers for Boothill's backstory, mention of reader pre-transition as 'her' once but by male descriptors everwhere else, I have no experience writing ftm reader's so forgive my ignorance and let me know if I did good if you can 🥺

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

The saloon is lively, crowded, not Boothill’s usual scene but fate or whatever sorry god is in charge of his path brought him here. His mission is complete and he’s exhausted – so out drinking he goes, even though he can barely feel the drink’s effects anymore. He supposes it must be the principle of the thing, a sort of tradition that helps him not lose his mind along the way.

Boothill scans the room by instinct, seeing dancing couples fill the entire room up to the corners – some slowly, some so fast it’s as if the universe is about to implode. A flash of a memory stings at the back of his brain, but he ignores it.

“Uhm! Mister!” Chirps a high pitched voice from below, clearly directed at himself. Looking down he spots a chubby-faced little girl, at which he raises a brow. Why a girl her age would ever think to approach him of all people in the saloon, he cannot imagine.

“Can you help me up, please? I wanna ask for some water,” she asks, polite but determined.

“Oh, well of course little lady!” He responds, gently holding her up and placing her onto the stool, once the cloud of nostalgia is gone from before his eyes. She just looks so familiar… The particular shade of brown of her eyes–

“Thank you mister!” The girl says brightly, sitting all cute and proper as Boothill waves the barkeep over, “It’s no trouble. Whatcha doin’ here, anyway? Y’ain’t alone, right?”

“Oh no mister, I’m here with my papa!” She replies cheerfully, pointing to the center of the room where the most people gather. Between swaying bodies he finds who she points at – twirling a giggling old lady is who Boothill suspects is the girl’s ‘papa’.

The cyborg cowboy no longer has a heart, nor a chest really, but it feels as if it stops in that moment. You don't spot him yet, lost as you are in your own little world, twirling around as sweat builds at your hairline.

But to Boothill everyone else fades as the pieces click into place – a grassfield beneath a starry sky, the love of his life before him, his flesh and bone hands around her blushing face… your face… no matter how you’ve changed, it’s you, he’d recognize you anywhere.

He must be seeing ghosts, surely. The girl’s father must just look like you, that’s it, it has to be, you’re dead… you have to be.

But Boothill knows in his soul that it is. You’re right there, dancing without a care in the world, changed and yet the same.

“Mister?” The little girl to him again, grasping at one of his sleeves and he turns. Her eyes, that particular shade of brown… it’s his, from when he was still flesh and blood. His head hurts. He feels drunk and crazy, maybe he should stop drinking after missions.

“There you are! You should’ve told me you wanted to rest,” You lightheartedly tell the girl, panting as you wipe sweat from your brow. From this close he’s sure it’s you, but Boothill still feels a little crazy for his thoughts. “Made a friend–?!”

The moment your eyes meet his, Boothill is finally sure it’s you. And he can tell you remember him too. Both of you seem stuck in time, gazing at each other like you’ve seen a ghost, which maybe you have, all things considered. The both of you should be dead.

Your mouth opens to speak but no words come out and you’re aching for a glass of water of your own. He’s here, alive and…

“You’ve… changed.” Boothill says lamely – so many things he wants to say, things he should’ve said long ago, things he would’ve said if he knew you were alive all this time.

“S-So have you!” Your voice cracks as you gawk at him, “You’re all… metal?”

Boothill chuckles, nerves eased by the familiarity that settles over the two of you – seems you haven't changed where it counts. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”

“Well, all I have is time.” He can tell you’re still upset with him, perhaps you will be for a while– heck! He’s upset with himself! He should’ve gone back for you, checked, double checked, triple checked!

“Just tell me one thing first;” The cyborg asks, watching as the girl sprints off towards who he assumes is a friend of hers, “Is she…” he points at himself.

“... Yeah. Her name’s Julia.” You tell him, sitting where she was, shoulders still tense as you watch him closely. He’s still as handsome as always, more rugged perhaps, more tired and grim, but the sight of his face still makes your heart stutter with affection. 

Boothill sighs heavily at the information, like the air’s been punched from his lungs, slumping over the bar and covering his eyes. You, alone as your planet burned while he went off to punish the ones who did it, was a heartbreaking enough picture to paint, but with a child? His child?

If they hadn't taken his tear ducts, he’d be filling the saloon up to the ceiling with his tears.

“Hey now, you can cry about it later, ok?” You say awkwardly, knowing you might start crying too if he does. 

He does as you ask, finally raising his head to look at you properly. You’re as beautiful as he remembers, of course you are. You could never stop looking so unfairly stunning to him, never.

Squirming in place as his cybernetic lock onto you, you feel the need to fill the empty space between you – as much as you wish to act like nothing had changed, a lot had, “How did you… recognize me?”

He finds it to be an odd question, of course he’d recognize you, yours is the only face he seems when he closes his eyes, haunting the few dreams he does have like a siren’s song beckoning him to linger within the memories of a better life before he became what he is now, “Y’haven’t changed that much.”

You blink at him, suddenly self-conscious, “... haven't I?”

Oh no, you look upset. He should’ve just said what he was thinking instead of whatever that was, “I– I didn't mean it like– I mean, you look great! Fudge I–”

You’re laughing, open and bright and lovely. Laughing at him no doubt, but laughing, “W-what– why do you– Fudge?”

“Ah, well, that’s part of that long story I told ya’bout.” He replies bashfully, because yeah, it would be strange to hear that coming out of his mouth to you.

Catching your breath and wiping the tears from your eyes, you smile fondly at the cowboy, “Sounds to me like we have some catching up to do.”

The farm boy in him wishes still that nothing had changed, that he could wake up from his dream and lay in the field beneath the stars again, hold you against his warm chest like always and have no IPC blood caked under his metaphorical nails, only dirt and sand from a hard day’s work. But the galaxy ranger he is now likes it better this way – change is inevitable and all things considered, this is one of the more fortunate outcomes of your story. 

You’ve both changed, but not where really it counts.

“That we do, sweetheart.”

[cobaltperun]

Genius (7) - Can You Keep a Secret

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word count: 2.9k

-And no one has to know I'm your getaway, and a little bit more than you can take-

Cairo dropped by Miller’s classroom as he was getting ready to leave, she wanted to discuss the assignment, since the writer she chose needed his approval. “Hello,” she said and took her usual seat. Absentmindedly, she left her phone on the table, not wanting to miss a text or a call from you if you were already home.

If you already got the letter.

“I was thinking about my assignment,” she opened, not inquiring about how he seemed to be going somewhere.

He smiled at her as he picked up the things he previously left on her table and almost unassumingly he went and placed his hand over her own. “Tell me about it,” he encouraged, squeezing lightly, his thumb slipping under her palm.

“Of course, just a moment,” she pulled her hand back, pretending to look for some notes or whatever in her bag. She didn’t have any, but she now knew she took it too far with him, she created certain expectations and now one way or another he was reacting to them. Which was why she had Winnie there as well, and now that felt like the right decision. “Looks like I forgot my notes, it’s fine though, I was thinking,”

Her favorite author. It was still Henry Miller, that much she knew, but given how things between her and this Miller were turning out maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Her heart told her to go with Verne, but she didn’t want anyone to know how much that writer meant to both of you. That was your secret, your book, your childhood memories, and she didn’t want them tainted or graded.

“Henry Miller,” she said, consequences be damned.

~X~

She couldn’t believe she had misplaced her phone somewhere, she had it in the classroom when she went to talk to Miller, and then just, gone. She didn’t even notice she didn’t take it with her, seeing as she was happy her idea got approved. But she was annoyed now that she no longer had her phone. She had no idea if you would come.

Please come here.

She stripped down, her body bare as she glanced at the mirror. Would you like seeing her like this? Naked, aroused, just for you, craving for your touch, your lips all over her. What would you do to her? She’s read erotic books, she rarely imagined herself as the participant, but now her thoughts were filled with those scenarios, you and her reenacting them. What sounds would you make?

She picked out a dress, a long, black dress, reaching nearly to her feet and hugging her figure perfectly, showing off her hips, drawing attention to her breasts, and her bare shoulders covered only by the thin straps. She wasn’t sure if you’d come, but she wanted to be ready, she wanted to dress up just for you, and she wanted you to tear the dress off her.

“Please come here,” she sighed, tempted to just call you, to be absolutely certain you would come and take her.

You wanted that, right?

You wanted her, right?

Please come here.

And then her landline began ringing.

~X~

You didn’t go back home right away, you had to go over to the closest town to grab strings for your acoustic guitar, since one of the strings broke last night, which was annoying, but nothing you couldn’t easily fix. As you were approaching your house you noticed the sky was getting cloudy and you were thankful you managed to come back home before it started raining.

As you parked in front of your gate to open it you noticed a letter. “Probably for mom and dad,” you guessed and grabbed it without looking at who sent it. You parked your motorcycle in the garage and went inside, dropping the letter and the spare string on the sofa. You were going with out with Cairo tomorrow and you still weren’t sure where to take her, or if she was willing to go out for a longer ride, maybe sleep somewhere else and use the entire weekend. Either way, you would figure it out in the morning.

You finished freshening up a bit and changing your clothes to something more comfortable and only then did you sit down on the sofa to check the letter you got. Right there, sticking out like a sore thumb, was Cairo’s address. The mailman must have dropped it off here instead because he didn’t feel like going all the way to Cairo’s house.

You called her, but she didn’t answer, and you figured, what the hell, the worst case scenario you could put the letter in her mailbox.

The best case scenario, you had an excuse to go and see her now.

~X~

This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up. How did her phone end up in Miller’s bag? At the start of the week she would have been elated, thinking he was what she wanted, thinking he saw her, that he could madly love her. At the start of the week she would have thought this would be the moment, she would let him take her, claim her like the books she read described, that he would be exactly what Winnie described weeks ago.

But that was at the start of the week. Now things were different and she didn’t fail to realize she, barefoot and in the dress she chose, looked like she got dressed up just for him when she simply didn’t want to risk changing and then letting the dress go to waste if you came right now. That was a mistake, she saw him. Standing there, soaked by the rain, standing on her pavement, and looking at her with unconcealed desire. His eyes consumed her, she knew he would remember this, with the way his memory worked he’d recall every curve of her dress, every detail he took notice off.

“Hello,” she spoke, confidently. He wouldn’t cross the line, he had his job to worry about. She would not get burnt by fire.

“Hi,” he replied, breathing deeply as he looked at her. “Come here,” he told her, and the reason to go over to him was obvious, her phone in his hand. She wondered if you called her or sent her a message.

She was about to go over to him, to take her phone and be done with this so he could go back to his wife, but then something drew his attention away from her, stilled his breathing and for a moment she heard nothing but drops of rain falling and breaking apart on the ground, And then she heard it, the roar of a motorcycle engine filled her ears and she felt her heart soaring, her body burning up despite the cold air surrounding her. That was the sound, that was what she wanted to hear. You came for her. You were coming.

She wasn’t sure how to explain his car parked in front of her gate. Would she need to explain of would you understand it without a single word spoken between you? Either way you parked nect to her fence and turned the engine off. Even from the distance Cairo could see the raindrops falling from your helmet and biker jacket. You walked through that gate like you used to so many times and Cairo felt her palms sweating, she wanted to step into the rain, or to make you walk faster, just so this distance would end. She wanted to hold you and be held by you, she wanted your lips on hers and all over her body. Her breathing grew just a bit faster as she watched you.

“Hey,” your lips were hidden by the helmet and she struggled to see your eyes behind the visor, but she could see the hints of softness in them. “Professor, good afternoon,” you nodded to Miller, lifting your visor up and meeting his startled gaze with a questioning look in your eyes. You looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow and then fishing into your jacket for a small umbrella, opened it and shielded the man from the rain. “You’ll catch a cold, you need to be more careful at your age,” you said it so casually, so easily that Cairo nearly lost her composure. Despite the gesture, despite the words you spoke, the tone made it clear what you meant.

And Cairo wanted to read your mind, just to see what you were actually thinking, but she couldn’t, and she certainly hoped it was along the lines of: ‘Get the fuck away from what’s mine.’ If nothing else she definitely imagine you thought that, that you were just as mad and possessive over her as she was feeling over you, because damn, she hated the very idea of anyone being intimate with you with burning passion.

“R-Right, well, uh, Cairo, I’ve given you-“ Miller stammered, red in the face and looking anywhere but at you or Cairo, he then realized he was still holding her phone. “I’m giving you back your phone!” he urgently offered her the phone she forgot. “And I’m going, nowhere, uh, elsewhere, anywhere really,” he nearly tripped as he took a few steps back. “I’ll see you two in class on Monday!” he hid inside his car, fumbling with his keys and leaving in haste as you closed the umbrella.

You sighed “Damn old fuck,” you cursed as Miller drove off and once again took something from your jacket, a letter this time, and Cairo smiled, it did bring you to her. “The mailman left this at my parent’s place. I think he doesn’t like coming all the way over here,” you joked, handing her the letter.

She nodded, smiling slightly as you came closer so she wouldn’t have to step into the rain, and her smile only widened when her fingers brushed against your gloved hand. This wasn’t just longing, she was yearning for you, craving to feel more, to touch and be touched. You were right there, your hands were touching, and your eyes widened for a moment as well, proving to her you felt something too.

“I’ll leave you to whatever you dressed up for. You look, never mind, I should go,” you turned, thinking she dressed up for someone or something else, but she couldn’t let you leave now. You took a grand total of four steps by the time she moved. She stepped into the rain and pulled you back, her phone and the letter saved from colliding with the ground only by your quick reflexes. But your reflexes couldn’t save your helmet or the umbrella from hitting the ground. “Hey! Watch the hel-“ your breath hitched, eyes meeting her own as she raised her head, her lips so close to your own she could feel the incoming burning sensation of your lips against hers. “Cairo,” you sighed, helmet forgotten somewhere on the grass near you two as you leaned down, your forehead pressing against her own.

“How do I look?” she asked, her fingers crawling up from the bottom of your jacket to the high collar, the raindrops from the sky, from your jacket, soaking her skin and the soft dress she was wearing. And she shivered, not due to the rain, not even due to the way you were looking at her, but due to the way you just pulled her closer, pressing her body so possessively to your own, the wetness seeping through her dress. This wasn’t enough, she wanted, no needed more. She needed you to get rid of the damn clothes she was wearing while she removed your own.

“Like the most tantalizing poem ever created and then given flesh,” you were out of breath, your lips ghosting over her own in the most exquisite, yet excruciatingly painful way Cairo ever felt.

“Satisfy those desires then,” she was just as out of breath as you were and it felt like the puzzle pieces fell into place, her longing, her yearning, the desires, it all went back to you. You were the one, you were her madman’s love. All the yearning, all her passion, it all exploded within her as your lips pressed against hers. As the heat of your tongue and the cold of the rain that began pouring broke her down and put her back together. Your hands roaming her body, slipping through her hair, tugging her closer, remained the only reason she wasn’t falling apart, why she still maintained her shape as you hastily threw your gloves of so your bare fingertips could touch any part of her exposed skin in your reach.

You gasped for air, breaking the kiss and leaning down while lightly tugging at her hair, and she complied, unable to resist giving in to your wishes as she exposed her neck to you. “You’re a need I can never satisfy,” you left burning hot kisses against her soaked skin, not caring about the downpour that was soaking both of you. “You’re a dream I can’t wake up from,” she felt the unfamiliar throbbing as you moved lower, to her exposed shoulder. “The only melody that can fill my silence,” Cairo closed her eyes, soft gasps escaping past her lips as she pushed your jacket down, letting the rain hit your shirt, soaking it in almost an instant, but neither of you cared. Lost in yearning and unrestrained desire, and she brought your head back up, kissing you as deeply as she could, committing the taste of you, the imperfect, lustful and loving way your tongue moved against her own once again. The string of saliva still connected her lips to yours when you separated. “You’re the desire that inspires me.”

And she captured your lips once again, not satisfied with just this. “Then be inspired, my madness. Take me in all the ways you desire,” she whispered right into your ear, sensually, seductively, for you weren’t caught in her web, you were spinning the web with her. And she was all yours, more than you knew, more than you could imagine, but she was, indeed, all yours. And she said it. “I’m yours, every part of me, in every way you want me. Love me, Y/N,” she sighed, opening her mouth in a soundless cry as you sucked on her neck, marking her as your own.

~X~

You woke up to the sound of soft breathing close to your ear and you moved just a bit, just so you could hug her. Cairo hummed, muttering something you couldn’t quite understand, well, other than the word ‘mine’ that one you clearly heard. That got you to grin as you opened your eyes and saw her snuggling up against you, she was sleeping with her head on top of you, just above your chest in fact and she had an arm and leg draped over your body.

The two of you fell asleep like that last night. Naked. Satisfied. With your clothes thrown all over her room and the letter she wrote to you lying somewhere either on the bed itself or near it. Damn, the letter would remain burnt into your memory for the rest of your life. She went into detail on what she wanted, how she wanted you to take her, excluding one detail she wasn’t aware of, You took a deep breath, trying to calm down as the words she said and the tone she used came to your mind.

“What’s on your mind?” she suddenly asked and you looked down to see her eyes still closed but the tone of her voice and the way she tightened her grip on your waist told you she was definitely awake now.

“Hmm, you’ll have to kiss the answer out of me,” you told her, and you should have expected it, really. After all, this was Cairo. She got up and kissed you, her lips capturing your in an instant as she took the lead. She nibbled on your lower lip, moaning slightly against it as you caressed her back.

“Like that?” she asked with a mischievous look in her eyes.

You nodded, grinning a bit. “So, I’m thinking about how you sounded last night. Your moans, cries, I’m recalling how you fell apart while I was inside you, crying and begging for more,” you smirked a bit as she pressed against you and just for a moment stopped breathing as you spoke.

And then she smirked back. “Well, I figured you liked your girls to be loud, seeing how much you rely on your hearing,” she told you with a hint o jealousy in her voice.

You flipped the two of you over, so you were on top. “Girl. As in one,” you reassured her and caressed her cheek. “Just you, Cairo.”

The smile on her lips could have charmed anyone and you were at her mercy, but she was at your mercy as well, just as affected by you as you were affected by her.

A/N: Well, here’s a question for you, do I write chapter 8, or the smut first?

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

GHOSTS IN THE SNOW

I spent a lot of the day thinking I WILL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST IF I DO NOT SEE A PAYNELAND SNOW KISS RIGHT NOW. Unfortunately, I could not find one to look upon, so I decided to write one. Here you are! You can also read it on Ao3.

Edwin did not like to admit it, but he barely remembered what it meant to feel cold.

Charles did - considering the manner in which he died, it was no surprise. And yet all Edwin could recall was heat, not only from the fires of Hell but also from running, and running, and running. As he strolled along the peaceful nighttime streets of London, Charles's hand in his, he contemplated what it might be like to feel the light snowfall on his face. To have his cheeks wind-whipped and numb, to catch the large, fluffy falling snowflakes in his mouth and taste them.

Edwin did not frequently yearn for life, but in that moment, he felt something like nostalgia for it.

"What're you thinking about, mate?" Charles's voice cut through the still darkness. The world was quiet here, away from London's main roads at three in the morning, but Charles's voice was bold and brave. "You've got that look on your face, the one you get when you're really engrossed in some book or puzzle."

"And what sort of look is that?" Edwin's voice was light.

Charles scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes rather adorably.

Edwin chuckled. "You are being ridiculous," he admonished. "I have never looked like that. You once told me that my contemplative expression is quite clever; I shall choose to believe that rather than your insulting impression."

Charles smiled slightly. "Are you saying I didn't look clever like that? Well, that's rude, isn't it, when I tried so hard."

"You shall have to make a better effort next time." Edwin waved the hand that was not holding Charles's in the air, and Charles squeezed his hand. They continued to stroll along, and Edwin watched the flurries swirl under the light-posts. Electric lighting had been new back in his day, and it was not nearly as bright as this, so bright as to illuminate the snowfall and -

"Oi," Charles said. "You're doing it again." He did not release Edwin's hand, but brought the other one up to poke him on the shoulder. He poked far too many times, far too quickly. Edwin would not have had Charles any other way. "Come on, Edwin," he continued, "what's going on in that big brain of yours, huh?"

Edwin rolled his eyes and huffed. "I am simply contemplating what it might be like to feel... cold," he said. "I do not remember it."

"Oh." Charles stopped walking, and Edwin with him. His hand went slack, and they pulled apart as Charles continued. "That's... I guess... I don't really remember normal cold either, do I? Just like, the perils of terminal hypothermia or whatever."

"Very uplifting," Edwin murmured, and Charles nudged him.

"But. But." Charles tilted his head at Edwin. "I bet it's, like, the opposite of warm, yeah? Like, when you hold my hand, that's warm. Cold would be... the other thing, yeah?"

"Have you never thought it odd that humans always wish to sort things into arbitrary binaries? As much as I enjoy organized thought processes..."

"Hot/cold doesn't feel that arbitrary," Charles argued.

"I shall have to conduct further study." Edwin steepled his hands before himself, an unconscious habit that he knew made him appear confident.

But Charles grinned again. "I mean, if you want something else warm so you can better understand what its opposite might be..."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Charles reached out. He clasped Edwin's hands in his own, breaking his folded hands apart and squeezing his fingers. Then, still smiling, Charles took a step closer to Edwin and placed his hands on either side of his face. Edwin smiled at the last moment before their lips met, and Charles's mouth was as gentle as the snowflakes blowing lightly through the sky.

And warm. Of course, he was warm.

When Charles pulled away, large, uniquely-shaped snowflakes were stark against his black hair. Edwin wondered whether he was in such a state, too, and whether Charles liked the contrast as much as he did. But he did not have to wonder for long. Charles laughed quietly and reached upward to smooth down Edwin's hair, his expression so woefully fond that Edwin had to fight the urge to look away. "Love you, mate," he said casually, and Edwin could not help but smile.

Edwin's heart melted, but his eyes narrowed. "Wait," he said. "What on Earth did that have to do with our previous conversation? How am I meant to better understand the nature of cold due to that?"

"You're not," Charles said without a hint of shame. "I just made up an excuse to kiss you, didn't I. And it worked."

Edwin pivoted toward Charles. "You are trickier than I gave you credit for," he said, smirking.

"And you love me," Charles said, smiling as he trailed after Edwin.

Edwin reached out behind him, and Charles took his hand. "I suppose I do," Edwin mused.

He did not see the way that Charles smiled down at his boots.

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[egrets-not-regrets]

Under the Trail of Stars

Mara is enjoying the scenery of the Trail of Stars Cove when she is joined by the merAstartes warsmith, Eciton. They chat as they watch the courting pairs on the beach.

Author's Note: It's been a while since I wrote for this AU. I couldn't resist writing another harpyMara and merEciton fic. I really like this old (kind of, not really) couple. Lol. Erriox apparently spoils his mate with picking up lost younglings, according to Eciton.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @legionsofthehungry

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

Mara looked out into the darkening sky and more and more stars peaking out. She closed her eyes feeling the ocean breeze flow between her feathers. Letting out a long breath, a pleasant sense of nostalgia clung to her senses as she watched bioluminescent plankton twinkle as they were stirred up by the waves and creature’s that swam among them. On the beaches below the cliff where she sat, courting harpy pairs danced and played. Her sharp eyes caught the forms of Lenora and Erriox playfully rough housing in the water, and half-hidden behind some rocks in the shadowed covelet at the far end of the beach, the large silver form of the Grey Knight laid there with Lana relaxing in his arms, her body and wings draped over his torso, having a quiet conversation. 

Mara’s eyes crinkled in amusement 

“Oh Skymother, you bring us such surprises.” Mara chuckled to no one in particular. 

With the arrival of the merAstartes, the Primaris younglings in particular, her colony had changed so much. The old harpy wouldn’t have guessed, even in her wildest dreams, how entangled they would be with the merAstartes, most of which were still predators upon harpykind. From adopting Jophiel and his brothers as their own fledlings to several gannet harpies being bonded to a merAstartes of their own. If only their ancestors could see them now… she wondered if any others of her harpy brethren of other species have bonded to a merAstartes as well. 

“Lady Mara.”

“Hello, Warsmith Formicas.” she greeted the heavily armored mer warmly, “It’s rare to see you out and about.”

He huffed, but there was no vexation behind it, “I conduct patrols with my troops on occasion. Our numbers are not many.”

“Of course. It makes sense that you do.”

The large mer settled on the grass next to her and looked out into the water, “So this is the reason for its name ‘Trail of Stars’.” he commented. The glowing plankton trailing into the twinkling stars at the water’s horizon brought memories of swimming in space among the stars with his pod. It had been so long ago... Eciton wondered who else among his pod had made it here to Ancient Terra. 

Mara chuckled, “You have not been here at night?”

“No. I normally patrol the deeper waters.”

“Oh? What brought you to the surface?” she asked curiously. 

Eciton’s head turned towards the direction of the Grey Knight. Mara followed his gaze and frowned slightly, “You could give Stormbreaker some privacy. He cherishes his time with Lana, especially for a chance to court her here. He wouldn’t do anything foolish to ruin such an opportunity.”

The warsmith’s lips tightened a touch then replied, “He is a threat, both you and I know that. His bonded and your colony may be safe, but Stormbreaker is too powerful to trust him fully knowing what he can and is willing to do to other Astartes warriors.”

The old gannet harpy let out a sigh, “I suppose you have a point, but I advise that you let Stormbreaker have his time and space with Lana here. Don’t ruin his courtship unless you want to sow further resentment.”

“Duly noted.” Eciton hummed, he then asked her, “What are you doing here? Are you waiting for your courting partner?”

Mara let out a chuckle, “Oh Skymother, no. My mate has long since passed and I have not found another. I come here to enjoy some relative peace and quiet and the beauty of this place.”

The warsmith mer quirked his brow, “And keep an eye on the rest of your brethren?”

Her wing knocked against him as she laughed. When he turned, he saw her black eyes glittering with mirth, “You are funny, Warsmith Formicas! But I won’t deny occasionally keeping an eye out for some wayward younglings who tend to invite trouble, intentionally or not.”

“I have a bunch of them.” Eciton snorted as he watched Erriox leap impressively out of the water, catching Lenora and taking her down with him in a huge glittering splash, “Some more surprising than most.”

“Erriox, a troublemaker?” Mara covered her mouth with her claw as she giggled, “He doesn’t seem the type.”

“I didn’t expect him to adopt a whole brood of Primaris Scoutlings.” It was incredulous how many Primaris younglings Erriox had adopted. And that number kept going up every month it seemed. Was his bonded mate trying to make up for the fact that she couldn’t biologically have children with him? If this kept up, he would need to have a serious talk with his warrior. 

How does Erriox keep finding so many of them? That is another question. How did it happen that all of the younglings Erriox found recently happened to be Primaris mers? 

“You needn’t worry. Erriox is trustworthy and is a good father to those boys.” the gannet harpy reassured him, “And the boys are wonderful young mers. I can attest to that.”

Eciton hummed in agreement. The Primaris scoutlings looked up to Erriox as a father figure, and he’s caught the odd scoutling referring to Erriox as some iteration of “father”. That term was strange, since the only “father” he recognized was his primarch, Perturabo. Erriox had become a defacto scout sergeant despite his lack of experience, but he had a surprising amount of patience and tolerance for the younger ones, for an Iron Warrior that was. He supposed the scoutlings were still quite young, and living among the harpies developed their language to a more familial way of addressing others.

“It is not that Erriox is not a good scout sergeant. However, the scoutlings need much more guidance and support in order to become full merAstartes. Joining a pod will give them more resources to further their development. Particularly for the specialists in the group.” His main concern was their growth into fully-fledged merAstartes. Some of the Primaris were recently inducted merAstartes, others, especially the young Blood Angel, was just a barely finished neophyte with the added complication of being a psyker. And he was reluctant to let him and the Ravenguard scoutling train with the Grey Knight given the reports he had read.

“Are you wanting the fledglings to join your pod? Have you spoken to Erriox about this matter?” she asked.

The mer rumbled, his tail twitched, giving the slightest indication of his frustration at this dilemma, “Joining my pod makes the most logical sense. And yes, I have spoken to Erriox and a few others about it. The scoutlings can only gain so much knowledge and experience under his hand and living among the harpies. Yet their distrust of Firstborn Astartes is stunting their ability to gain opportunities to further their growth into fully-fledged merAstartes.” 

His language was blunt, but what Eciton said was the truth and was not meant to be insulting. The young mers were not harpies after all and they could only assist so much. Mara nodded in understanding,

He then looked at the harpy beside him, “Lady Mara, the scoutlings have a good rapport with you and your colony. I need your help to convince them to join my pod,” he paused, “or any pod, it is fundamental to their growth.”

“Every fledgling has to fly the nest at some point.” Mara hummed in agreement, “I will ask, but I cannot guarantee anything. You know those boys have a mind of their own. Give them some time, their trust will come.”

Eciton let out a quiet sigh, “I’m not sure how much time we have.”

Mara tilted her head in question, “What makes you say that? Is there some calamity to come?”

“How much do you know of our origin?” he asked.

“Only that you came from different locations and points in time from the future, perhaps even an alternate universe.” she then frowned, “Also that there is constant conflict and warfare where you and your brethren are from.”

The warsmith’s tail twitched as he explained, “I cannot give you details, but you are correct. We do not know why we were sent here, only that warp magic was involved. As the warp is unpredictable in its nature, it is difficult to say if all of a sudden we get sent back to our original timeline.” Eciton’s brows furrowed at the thought, “The scoutlings would have a better chance of survival as full astartes should they be sent back.”

Mara stretched her wing and patted the back of Eciton’s shoulder. A shiver ran along his spine from the sensation of her wing tips brushing against his tail. Her voice was understanding, “I understand your dilemma, but some things can’t be rushed. The fledglings will come around. I will have a talk with them about this issue.”

Eciton’s voice was quiet, “... Thank you, Lady Mara.”

“Of course. My colony and your pod are intertwined.” the old harpy smiled kindly, “You allowed us to have a protected haven in your territory, it is the least we could do in return.” she added, “I’m glad you care about their wellbeing. Skymother knows that it is something these fledglings sorely need.”

Eciton looked up into the stars, “There were numerous squads of scoutlings in my pod, They were fighters in their own right and were essential to covert warfare and providing firepower.” his voice then was tinged with what seemed like sorrow to Mara’s ears, “Many were still in training and were lost due to their lack of experience.” Eciton was about to say more, but stopped, brows furrowed. He muttered self-deprecatingly, “I must be getting soft here in Ancient Terra.” 

Such losses were acceptable in the calculated outcome, war had no mercy for the weak. Eciton’s brows furrowed. That idea slowly became more uncomfortable in the years that he had spent in Ancient Terra. Perhaps it is due to how small of a number of merAstartes that exist at this time and place, making every single merAstartes a valuable warrior to have; perhaps it is the lack of war and fighting making his mind idle; or perhaps some deeply buried human part of him is digging itself out, breaking through the ages of indoctrination and battle that made him what he was.

Sensing his inner conflict, Mara gently said, “Heavy is the burden of leadership and war, but learning to be soft may not be a terrible thing in this time. Perhaps appearing in this world may be a chance for a new life; to learn something new, be it about this world or about yourself.”

“Think about it. You lead a pod mixed with loyalist and chaos mers. You’ve given safe haven for my colony and made us your allies,” nudging the mer with her wing, she chuckled, “And you kept this old harpy company. I very much doubt that you would normally have such casual conversations with the humans in your time, let alone non-human creatures like me. I would say that you had to learn new skills to navigate all that.”

Eciton huffed, but the corner of his lips couldn’t help but curl up into the barest grin, “You are uncomfortably perceptive and idealistic.”

“It helps to appreciate the small things.” Mara smiled, “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“You’re welcome. “

She yawned and stood up to stretch and ruffle her feathers, “It is late and I shouldn’t keep you from the rest of your duties.”

“Are you returning to your colony?” 

Mara let out a sigh then laid down in the grass, “No. I will be sleeping here.”

The Iron Warrior mer frowned at the open space around them, “Are you not afraid of enemies potentially attacking you here while you sleep?”

“No, this area is sacred to most creatures for one reason or another, so it is considered somewhat of a sanctuary.” Mara blinked and replied, “We are located at the cliff’s edge, it is easy enough to escape should anything happen and I can hold my own if necessary. You don’t have to stay.”

Her relaxed reply bothered him, were all harpies this foolish? Resolutely, Eciton shifted closer to the half-asleep harpy, “Sleep, Mara. I will keep watch. The Grey Knight looks to be staying here for the night anyway.”

She thought she heard him grumble under his breath, “Not all creatures would know to treat this place with such reverence.”

Mara smiled at the mer’s gruff response and tucked her head under her wing, drowsiness taking over, “As you wish. Thank you, Eciton.” 

Eciton continued to watch the beachside activity from the cliff, his tail nestled against the sleeping harpy. He listened to Mara’s breathing even out as she fell into a deep sleep. Eciton shook his head slightly; if only his pod could see him now…

“I’m getting soft.” he mumbled. The stars twinkled as if they were laughing in reply. 

[serenadeonacanoe]

Untitled, 2025 (GD x OFC) Chapter 3: Uno

Pairing: G-Dragon/Kwon Jiyong x OFC Genre/Warnings: Slow Burn, Tour Life, 2014, 2020, 2025, let's add these along the way. More on AO3 -----------------------------------------

Winter 2019

“This winter is really rather mild, I would say…” If looks could kill, Cheungha would be a goner. “I know. But I come from a country where winter doesn’t winter quite this hard, and full-length puffer coats aren’t part of the national identity.” Of course I have one now. This is my fifth winter in Korea. I froze through the first one because I refused to wear those sleeping-bag-with-arms coats. Then I adapted. Now I own three. It’s freezing outside and when it snows here, it really snows. Pretty now, sure - but five minutes ago I was in a full-body weather battle just walking from the subway to her apartment. I shake my hair out, sending snowflakes everywhere, and dramatically unbutton my coat to reveal my party outfit underneath.

“For god’s sake, just take a taxi next time,” she groans. “Like the rest of us.” I sigh. We’ve had this conversation a million times. She calls me a fake Korean. I call her soft. And then we make dinner. I missed her.

She’d been living abroad the last four years and we naturally drifted - mostly just in the “being on opposite continents” way. But since she moved back to Seoul a few weeks ago, it’s like we picked up right where we left off. Our friendship was never super peaceful. we weren’t the cuddly, braid-each-other’s-hair, tell-each-other-everything kind of friends. We were more the “lazy slobs who can eat an entire pizza in silence” kind. And also the “fight over nothing for sport” kind. But having her back has made my life better. She reminds me of my first few months in Seoul, when everything still felt exciting and chaotic. Not that it’s boring now, but routine has crept in like it always does. Her being back kind of snapped me out of autopilot.

What I didn’t fully consider back then, though, was who else would come along with her. Her friends. Friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. Some I’d actively avoided. People who, honestly, didn’t even seem to remember me at first. Well, some still didn’t, whatever.

Seunghyun had walked right up to me at her "Welcome Home" party and hugged me like we were lifelong buddies. Which was funny, because we’d only spent a single weekend together at a lakeside house five years ago - and mostly we were all... preoccupied. I recognized a few other faces from that trip too.

And then Jiyong walked in. And walked right past me. Didn’t even blink. I actually laughed. Like, wow, I must’ve made zero impression. Incredible. It was fine, though - I wasn’t planning to see much of him anyway.

What I hadn’t realized was that Cheungha’s return had reawakened a whole wave of nostalgia, not just for me but for their whole group. The guys had only recently finished military service and things had been quiet ever since the whole mess with their former fifth member. (Yes, that mess. I read the articles too. I hoped they weren’t like him… but how would I know?) They’d gone full hermit mode for a while. Not going out much, avoiding crowds, keeping things low-key. A movie night here. A house party there. I was cautious at first, but it didn’t take long before I realized how upset they were by everything and it made me trust enough to hang with them. Sure, they still liked to drink and party. Still loud. Still obnoxiously talented. But there was less chaos now. Fewer broken furniture incidents. And an unexpectedly high rate of playing Uno during hangovers. Which was kind of weird. And kind of adorable.

So anyway, I take off my coat, grabbing a plastic bag full of convenience store goodies on the counter and slip off my shoes before heading into the living room where the night is already five steps ahead of me.

I grin when I spot Daesung. That’s just what his face does to me. I flop down next to him on the couch and get a little side hug in return. We became friends fast. He’s the kind of person who makes that easy.

“Oh, you got all the good stuff.” he says, already digging through the bag. Of course I did. I know what he likes. “Sweet for youuuu…” I say, pointing at Daesung with the dramatic flair of someone announcing a prize. “Salty for youuuu…” I gesture toward Cheungha and another friend sitting across the room. “And... sweet AND salty for you.” I point at Jiyong, who looks slightly surprised to be included in the snack choreography, but then smiles. A little shy, maybe.

With Daesung, it had felt like I could trust him to tell him my life story after talking for an hour. He’s open and sunny and just... fun. Jiyong, though? Hanging out with him had felt a little strange at first. So he forgot me. Big whoop. And yeah, what happened back then wasn’t exactly flattering, but whatever - I wasn’t still mad about it. Not really. I wasn’t even that upset with Cheungha. They were drunk idiots and maybe they saved me from a bigger heartbreak by accident. From what I could tell, nothing serious ever came out of it. At first, I assumed Ji just wasn’t interested in talking to me. Fair. But with time, I realized he wasn’t standoffish - he was just more introverted than I’d expected. Quiet. Kinda shy. It was a little surprising. Maybe he’d changed. Maybe it was that he wasn’t non-stop drunk like the first time around. Maybe it was just different seeing him at house parties instead of bars, no crowd, no hype, just a handful of people and a bunch of snacks. But he’d blush. A lot. Cover his face when people teased him. Get flustered and awkward and sometimes even admit it outright. It was kind of sweet. And honestly, it was hard to stay annoyed at someone who clearly had no idea how to not be endearingly weird. So eventually, he warmed up a little. And so did I. No mention of the summer of 2014. We just... skipped it.

I only realize I’m still looking at him when he suddenly turns his head and sticks out his tongue at me. Pfffff. I squint my eyes in a silent laugh, then shake my head like I’m exasperated - when really, I’m just a little charmed. Yeah. He’s a good guy. Weird, sure, but in the best way. I like having him around. Honestly, I like having all of them around. There’s something special about this group. A little chaotic, a little sad sometimes. Like they’re carrying things they don’t always talk about. But still - there’s laughter, snacks, dumb games and the kind of late-night nonsense that makes you feel like you belong somewhere. And between all the big personalities and old wounds and weird in-jokes, I feel oddly at home. Like maybe this winter is going to be good. Like 2020 will be my year. (oh dearie dear… you have no idea what is coming!)

January 2025

When I see the Uno cards laid out on the airplane tray in front of Youngbae, I can’t contain myself.

Usually I try to keep it professional at work. A lot of people have figured out by now that I knew some of the guys before all this, but I don’t want to be office gossip. Still… this? This is too much.

We’ve been in the air for hours, on our way to Paris. Very exciting. Very sleepless. I’ve already done my little pacing laps around the plane - classic insomnia behavior - but this is actually entertaining. The sight of those cards throws me right back to that winter before the pandemic, when endless rounds of Uno were the only thing keeping us from falling apart. We'd just started hearing about COVID. None of us took it seriously yet.

Youngbae looks up and grins when he sees me in the dim overhead light. He pats the seat next to him and I don’t even think - I just plop down. We start to play, quickly realizing it’s not really a two-person game. Still, it’s something.

That’s when Jiyong shows up.

He slows his steps when he sees me in his seat, eyebrows raised in a silent question. I shoot up, stammering an apology, but he just shakes his head, smirks, and tilts his chin in that very specific way that means scoot over. Now the three of us are squished into two first-class seats like kids at a very fancy sleepover and weirdly, it works.

What doesn’t work is how much Jiyong is cheating at Uno.

Okay, yes, I’m sitting in the middle, which makes it hard to hide my cards, but he’s shameless. Peeking, scheming, lying. A true menace. I hold a flat hand in front of his face when he tries to sneak another look.

"Uh-uh." I say, laughing. "No, Mister."

He grins like the devil and then leans in like he’s about to bite my hand. I laugh harder but hold my ground, lowering my hand slowly while still glaring at him. Not today, Satan.

And then he just stares at me. Not the obvious, casual kind of stare. The kind that feels private. The kind only I notice.

I know that look.

If I didn’t, I could chalk this whole thing up to boredom. To silly, flirty chaos. But I’ve seen this face before.

Slightly raised eyebrows. That playful smirk tugging at just one side of his mouth. Peter Pan energy with a side of something dangerous.

He looked at me like that before. Back when we almost kissed. That day. The day before. All of it.

And I’m frozen. Mesmerized, honestly. I know that word’s cheesy, but it fits. I’m completely pulled in. I can’t stop looking at him, no idea what my face is doing.

And then…

He sticks his tongue out at me again.

It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. It’s so him.

In a split second, everything collides in my head - his smirk, the Uno cards, the memory of him and Cheungha in that hallway, him lying under a tree, snow in his hair, the smell of summer, the flash of lights on stage.

And I giggle.

Like, actually giggle.

The horror.

I shoot my cards up to my mouth like that’ll somehow put the sound back in my throat. As if I can unsend the embarrassment.

“Come on, it’s your turn,” Youngbae says beside me. “I’m almost winning.”

I panic. I turn, stare at my cards like I’m trying to decipher ancient runes, and play something totally nonsensical. I think it was a green seven. Or maybe a draw four. Honestly, I blacked out.

Eventually, Youngbae really does win. Deserved, honestly.

I pretend I need the bathroom, mumble something about stretching my legs, and escape. But not before I catch a look at Jiyong’s face.

That grin. It’s somewhere between smug and satisfied, like he didn’t win the game, but he still won.

In the mirror, I see it: my cheeks are red. Full-on blush. There’s no coming back from that.

And I know - I know - that stupid giggle is going to haunt me forever. I’ll be trying to fall asleep one night and there it’ll be, echoing in my head like a curse. And so will his face. At 25. At 30. At 36. Always smirking.

I’m doomed.

[peachhcs]

Celly propt 7 where Sammy wears Will jersey for the first time as a couple at BC or could be done in the USA era when Will realizes he has felling for Sammy

in his jersey | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

the pining continues between samy and will during the wonder years when she wears his jersey to his ntdp game

1.7k words

i got a bit carried away when writing this lmao. i know this is a celly request, but i also feel like this ask fits into samy and will's wonder years category. writing their pining is soo cutie because they're so oblivious to one another. also posting another fic bc i feel bad leaving y'all dry for a couple days😭

700 celly masterlist | au masterlist

samy pulled the baseball cap further down her head as she sunk into the bleachers beside will's parents. she sported her friend's number across her back, trying to ignore the glaring looks from the other girls three rows down. they were regulars at the home games only because they had crushes on each of the players—specifically will. when samy walked into the rink wearing will's number across her back daggers were instantly shot. those girls were definitely not happy seeing samy wear her friend's number.

she tried ignoring them knowing they were just jealous she knew will specifically. she'd be happy to befriend them, but after months of just glaring, it was obvious they didn't wanna be samy's friend. instead, she sat with her parents and kept her attention on the boys down on the ice doing their warmups.

her eyes glued themselves to her best friend wearing the number 2 which was the same number spread across her back along with his last name. he skated around the ice with gabe and ryan, the three of them doing their warmups together like always. she loved seeing the three of them down there together, smiles painted on each of their lips being able to play the sport they loved together. 

it was also a bit of nostalgia knowing their last games playing for the ntdp were coming close. spring was right around the corner which also meant u18 worlds and after that the boys were completely done with the program. something about all of that felt bittersweet for the boys and samy. 

what would she do without them bugging her either in ann arbor or plymouth every weekend? will finally found her gaze when he looked towards the stands. the smile never left his lips as he waved. it was pretty known by now that he always waved at samy first before shifting his attention to his parents beside her. the blonde skated towards the glass and nodded his head to the right, an indication that he wanted samy down at the open entrance. 

while getting up, the youngest hughes directed a smirk in those other girls' direction. she knew she was about to piss all of them off when they watched her and will interact on the floor. what samy didn't know was that will saw the entire thing. 

he knew those girls liked him and were most definitely jealous of samy. he knew getting her in his jersey would shut them right up and finally get off his back by sending a clear message that he liked his best friend! (of course, samy had no idea though). 

"they're gonna bully my dms if you keep that up," the blonde lifted his helmet as he skated right up to the door where samy waited. 

the girl's entire face flushed in embarrassment, "you saw that?" she grimaced. 

"yeah, i did. it was endearing though. seeing you brag in their faces that you're mine," sometimes will's confidence grew a little too much and he said things without thinking. his own face flushed after realizing he said that. 

"i'm yours, huh?" samy raised her eyebrow. 

"shut up, you know what i mean," but she didn't. she didn't really get what will meant and how badly he wanted to really call her his. 

his stupid feelings were only getting worse and seeing her in his jersey with his all-time favorite number wasn't helping. however, his chest swelled with pride and a feeling of possessiveness knowing that everyone in the arena would see his name plastered across her back. 

"you look good in my jersey, by the way," will pulled at the material that basically swallowed up samy's small frame. 

"i still wonder how you convinced me to wear this," the brunette teased a bit, but secretly she loved it. 

her stupid feelings were only growing stronger and when will begged her to wear his jersey to his game the other day samy nearly confessed right there. even though it was fun watching her best friend beg her for something, she would've worn it regardless. 

"i'm pretty convincing," the boy shrugged smugly. samy rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her trying to act unfazed. 

"good luck tonight, will. you guys are gonna do great," she reached up to place a gentle kiss to his cheek because 1. she always did that and 2. she wanted to make those girls even more jealous than they were. who cared if they went and bullied her and will's dms later. 

"thanks, hughesy. see you after the game?" it was a miracle she didn't notice will's heart eyes. 

"you know where to find me," they said their goodbyes before will's coach came after him for not warming up. 

the game revved up to 5-3 with the ntdp boys on the winning side. samy was on her feet as she cheered on her best friends flying across the ice. the trio worked so well together, speaking wordlessly with one another as they trusted each other and passed the puck around the opposing team. it was almost like a dream watching those boys play and that feeling of bittersweet crept back into samy's mind. 

u18s and then the nhl draft in a few months meaning all of them joining the professional world. it was a day that seemed so far away when they were younger and was now just months away. 

"let's go will!" samy yelled down as the forward made his third goal of the night bringing the score to 6-3. 

the crowd erupted in cheers. the brunette smiled seeing will do his celly with ryan and gabe. immediately, the boy's gaze spun around to find samy's in the stands. they found one another pretty quickly and will pointed up at her, the happiness glowing across his features. his gesture earned a small blush across her cheeks while her parents and will's sent the girl knowing looks because of course they knew their kids liked one another before they even knew. 

once the game finished, samy waited around near the locker room for will to emerge. she usually leaned against the wall scrolling through her phone until the boy came running out. tonight was no different. twenty minutes after the game ended, the blonde was rushing out of the locker room in a happy daze. his curls were hardly even dry as he scooped samy into his arms, spinning her around so her feet weren't even on the ground. 

"so proud of you, will. you played so good," the girl gushed into his shoulder. 

"you always make me play well," his flirting earned another blush on samy's face.  

"shoulda known this was why will pushed everyone out of the way to shower first," ryan teased as he came out a moment later with gabe. 

the boys snickered with one another, but will didn't find it amusing. "shut up," he mumbled. 

"good to see ya, hughes. thanks for coming," ryan collected samy into his own hug. 

"duh, like i'd ever miss a game. you guys played so well," she pinched their cheeks which annoyed the hell out of them, but they let her do it anyway. 

"how much did smitty pay you to wear his jersey?" gabe continued with the chirping. 

all of them but will shared a laugh. he was not finding their remarks as amusing as he usually would tonight, "jesus, do you guys ever shut up?" 

"just a bit of begging and he convinced me," samy squeezed will's arm.

"begging? like hands and knees?" ryan hollered. poor will was now red in the face and wanted to rip his friends' heads off before they said anything more stupid. 

"just like that," samy didn't help. 

"don't we have to meet our parents. i thought they wanted to go out to dinner," will cut in before someone said anything else. 

"right, they're in the lobby," the brunette grabbed ahold of will's arm as they walked together to find their parents. 

after hugging his parents, the two families headed out to find something to eat. will climbed into samy's car since she drove herself up knowing the blonde would most definitely convince her to come back to his house for awhile which then resulted in her sleeping over. good thing it was saturday night and neither of them had practice tomorrow. 

"what am i gonna do when you're a hundred miles away in the fall?" will's gaze fell on samy's even though she was focusing on her parents' car in front of them as they followed them to the restaurant. 

"tough question. probably die," samy teased a little. 

"probably, yeah. i don't think i've ever really played a game without you there," the blonde admitted. she found his gaze for a second. the whole idea of graduating and going to college was a thought swirling around both of their minds lately. 

"i'll be there in spirit watching you through my laptop." 

"not the same, but i guess it'll have to do," will sighed a bit. 

"you know boston's gonna be really lucky to have you. you're a legacy," she poked his arm that was dangerously close to hers on the center console, but it wasn't like either of them were gonna move their arms away. 

"you are too, you know. by association," will smiled. 

"i think quinn and luke nearly fainted when i made it official i was going to michigan," the brunette hummed. 

"michigan definitely gained a good one. you're gonna kill it on the field." 

she met the boy's still lingering gaze. the two shared a loving smile still so oblivious to each other's feelings. they were so obvious, yet both of them didn't see it no matter what anyone said or did. 

the drunk makeouts didn't count because they were drunk, right? the lingering touches was just a friend thing, right? the constant teasing from both of their friends was stupid because none of them knew what they were talking about, right?

wrong. so, so wrong. 

samy did in fact end up back at will's house after dinner. the two curled up on the couch with the tv playing a movie, but neither of them were really paying attention because all they could think about was one another and who would finally have enough courage to confess their feelings. 

[yell0wsalt]

Fic: After the Rain

Relationship: Mel Medarda/Jayce Talis

Rating: M (cw: mental health struggles, mentions of blood, suicidal implications)

words count: 1478

Summary: In the middle of the night tucked in her bed with her daughter asleep in her own room, Mel didn't anticipate a knocking at the door. And it being him of all people on the other side.

For the @meljaymicrofics prompt After the Rain

—

In the peak of summer’s heat, the nights were the only chance for Mel to find rest. Or at least attempt to. As the days carry on the sun eventually gives way to the moon and stars, a balm to the fiery heat that casts down over Runeterra. Retired to her quarters for the night, Mel curls her body into one of her spare pillows, an attempt to find a hollow sense of comfort in the night. The wrinkle in between her brows deepens, as if she could force herself into slumber. She knows better of course, and a quiet mind still eludes her. 

She has never been one halfway decent at naturally finding proper sleep.

The temperatures were cool and calm, but the quiet was prime time for the conjuring against her will of old memories, voices, and faces Mel’s encountered in her life. Many of which she desperately wishes she could forget. Instead, they weigh her down as a curse, dragging her deeper and deeper to some void. 

Her arms wrap around the pillow tighter and her legs pulled up a little higher.

It’s not the same. It is but a pale comparison to what she truly wants.

There was once a time when she could find certain ease in the night, comforted by the sweet hazel eyes that saw the real her. The steadiness in his stature when her fears and anxieties felt too heavy for her to handle alone, the strong hands she found home in, further solidified with rings on their fingers two years back sealed with a promise.

Somewhere along the way, something with them switched. 

Perhaps the lingering effects of his time in that other place.

The voices in his head certainly not of his own were too loud and overbearing, planting heavy doses of poison in his ear. Seeds of doubt in her love for him and the little family they created. The toxicity bloomed, eating away at him from the inside out.

Ultimately, the glass house of their relationship shattered under the pressure, tainted by spatters of blood once pulsing through Jayce’s body.

There was too much of it spilt. 

Why was is that no matter how many bandages Mel wrapped around Jayce’s wounds, no matter how many “you’re going to be okay,” “it’s alright, we’re going to be okay,”s tumbled out of her mouth, it was not enough?

His blood still kept running over, staining them both. Drowning them.

Until it stopped.

An angry, tender bruise bloomed over Mel’s heart in the way of a bed too big for her alone and their daughter’s cries in the night— Solera was shy of a year old and suffered fits at times. Mel would move without a second thought, tending to them on her own. She’d shush and whisper sweet nothings against her daughter’s curls, rocking her side to side, steady as a ship on the ocean’s waves. If someone in their house should get rest, it should at least be their daughter.

The time apart was going to hurt, but it would be for the best, she told herself through the bouts of insomnia.

It was only going to be a few months, the psychiatrists told her. Minimal contract with the outside world to focus on treatment, they said. Mel counted down the weeks, days, hours, and minutes. Two weeks before his scheduled release, she received a letter in the mail. It was signed from Jayce. How dare she allow herself to hope? Seeing his writing gave her a sense of nostalgia and sense of hope, only for it to crumble beneath her, reading in the letter that he wasn’t coming back and he couldn’t keep his promise.

She folded the letter neatly in half. The in half again. And again until she was physically incapable of folding the letter anymore. 

As much as she wished for it to, life wouldn’t hold still. So she tucked the letter away to carry on.

On the precipice of her falling to a likely dreamless slumber, light raps at the door pull her back to reality.

Cinching her robe tight and padding over to the door, Mel stews in irritation. Who could be at her door at this hour? Checking the peephole, she certainly expected a tipsy tenant of their complex. Not this at all. 

“Jayce?”

Opening the door just to see him for herself, Mel quickly schools her features. She checks her hip against the door frame, blocking the threshold.

“Hi.”

She doesn’t move. “You’re a ghost.” 

The large army green duffle bag slides off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a dense thud. “I’m back.”

Mel is unmoving. She folds her arms tight across her chest; gods, she is too tired for this. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

Jayce opens and closes his mouth a few times in a false start. His strong features melt to a soft pout, seeing Mel’s walls be erected higher and thicker in real time. His throat is strung tight, fraying at the seams. His train of thought runs ruined hearing soft whimpers further back in their penthouse. 

“Is... is that her?” He settles in redirecting the conversation to their daughter.

Mel’s shoulders deflate. She turns sharp on her heels, drawn to the cries. “She’s been teething,” Mel replies over her shoulder to Jayce still at the threshold of what he used to call home. 

Jayce accepts the informal invite and makes his way inside. Quietly observing, yet almost too afraid to touch things. “You redecorated.”

Mel doesn’t look at him as she bends over Solera’s bed, pulling her into her arms. “I needed a change.”

“It looks good.”

“I care not to be entertained by this small talk, Jayce,” she snips. Holding Solera on a hiked hip, Mel searches fruitlessly for one of her teething toys. Mel pushes Solera back up with a grunt.

“Then let me help.” Taking Mel’s silence as not a no, Jayce retrieves a clean washcloth, damp with cold water. 

Mel having resorted to taking a seat on the couch, studies Jayce in his return. How he moves throughout the space, she considers while maintaining a neutral expression.

Solera’s eyes are a bit damp with residual tears but she gums at Jayce’s offering happily. He takes the moment to rub up and down her back and observe down to the minute features in their daughter. “She’s perfect.” There’s a dip one of the couch cushions with his weight. Not directly next to Mel, but close enough to be within arm’s reach. 

“I know.”

“You’ve been doing beautifully with her.” Jayce looks up at Mel.

She doesn’t return the warmth. “I had no choice.”

Jayce readjusts his seat, turning away from her and looking down in the space between. “I deserved that.”

“And it seems you thought I deserved a letter? Not even a call you couldn’t commit to us anymore? To her? To me?” Her rapid fires of accusation hiss low to not stress the child in her arms yet remained sharp as steel.

In all this time Mel hadn’t been allowed to fall apart. She had to play the cool and collected role, locking everything too raw in her chest away to never see the light of day again. Only for it all to spill out and resurface in his very presence. She hated Jayce was always able to do that to her. 

“I was…" Jayce picks at a callous on the side of this thumb. “Still sorting who I was. I didn’t want you to be bogged down by me.”

The laugh Mel huffed reeks with disbelief. “And you decided that for me? Because all that told me was that I’m not good enough for you. Neither of us were. And you shut us out.”

Solera’s whimpers stared to surface again. Perfect timing. Mel’s jaw tensed and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, while trying not to swear. 

Mel’s name is a plea on Jayce’s lips. “Let me take her. At least try for a moment.”

Finally, Mel opens her eyes, watching Jayce before her. The baby’s weight slowly shifts from one parent to another. Solera stirs for a few before comfortably settling in Jayce’s arms. 

“I got her okay, Mel. You can rest. Even if it’s for a few.”

Mel considers him and his words once more. Steadily curling into the corner of the couch, she pulls her knees up to her chest, her head tucks in the crook of one arm, the other wraps around her middle. “This doesn’t change everything,” she says simply.

“Maybe it’s a start?”

Mel allows a half-smile to grace her lips. “Hm. Wake me in 30 minutes.”

Jayce nods, watching her eyes start to flutter shut. Maybe, just maybe, he presses his lips carefully to his daughter’s forehead. The clouds could break to light.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Summer Fic Week 2023 - Day 7: Take Back What You Took

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary:

The season is over, and it's the resort staff party. Andy has a bone to pick.

Sequel to Leave Me In The Deep End.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2998

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Summer Fics Masterlist.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @mcximffs @noz4a2 @rottenstyx @starmansirius @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @alternativeprincess @annocaprosmaloka @thrutheburnout

Notes:

wooooooooo day 7, give it up for day 7

warnings for alcohol, public sex, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism, fighting, protective!pietro, protective!wanda, mentions of cheating, unprotected sex

again, i apologise to all of the people named andy out there

---

As you walked into the resort for the final time that year, you were overcome by a wave of nostalgia. The season was over. All of the guests had gone home, to your great relief. Tonight was the annual staff party.

The seasonal job market was strange. You had other work lined up – waitressing at family-owned restaurant across town – but you knew you would miss the resort. You would miss working with your friends, most of all Pietro. Of course, you would be back next year, as would he. You hoped (probably fruitlessly) that Andy wouldn’t come back.

You’d been seeing Pietro for a little over a month now, and it had been going really well. He slept over at your place a lot (he shared his own apartment with his sister, and you shared yours with a cat, so the choice for him was obvious).

Andy still worked at the resort, which made things a little awkward, but you were perfectly content to keep your distance from him. Pietro had more contact with him than you did, since they were both bartenders, but they hadn’t come to blows yet.

You rolled up to the party a little early. Hardly anyone had arrived yet, but there were tables of food and drinks set up, which you took advantage of. Pietro was coming with his sister, so you were content to help Nat set up the last few decorations.

“Odds on there being a fight tonight?” she asked you as you handed her a bunch of balloons. She was standing on ladder, getting ready to pin them up by the edge of the banner.

“There won’t be a fight,” you said, sounding surer than you felt.

Aside from anything else, Andy could get belligerent when he was drunk, and Pietro could be hot-headed.

Nat gave you a sideways glance. “You sure? You know Sharon’s gonna be here, right? It’s pretty messy between her and Steve at the moment.”

Your cheeks heated up. You hadn’t even thought of the possibility of someone else getting into a fight.

“Nah, Steve’s too much of a gentleman to get into it in public.”

“If you say so.”

People started arriving in dribs and drabs. Thankfully, Andy was nowhere to be seen. You sat down on a couch with a mixed drink in your hand, listening idly to a story that Sam was telling.

The only warning you got that your boyfriend had arrived was a pair of strong arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind. You might’ve flinched, but you recognised his cologne.

“Prinţesă,” he cooed. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Piet,” you scolded, batting his hands away. Sam, Steve and Bucky were all staring at you, a variety of amused expressions on their faces.

“I only tell the truth. Drink?”

“I’ve got one,” you said, holding up your glass. “But honestly it doesn’t hold a candle to your Sex on the Beach.” As a bartender, Pietro was very good at making drinks. Andy was a bartender too, but he’d never particularly been interested in making drinks for you. He didn’t want to take work home with him, you supposed.

“I’ll be right back,” said Pietro, dropping a kiss on the top of your head.

As soon as he was gone, you felt the weight of another person sitting down on the arm of the sofa you were leaning on.

You looked up and were relieved to see that it was Wanda. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a red dress that stood out against her pale skin.

“How are you doing, dragă?” she asked. The two of you had always been friendly. You had half-expected her to dislike you after you started dating Pietro – after all, she was pretty protective of him – but thankfully, the two of you had only seemed to grow closer.

“I’m good, what about you? Excited to be done for the summer?” You knew she was going back to college soon.

“Honestly? I think I’ll miss it once I start having to write essays again.”

“Yeah, I’m glad that part of my life is over.”

A shadow loomed over you suddenly. You turned, expecting Pietro, but from the sour expression that had suddenly come over Wanda’s face, you knew it wouldn’t be.

“Hey,” said Andy. He looked a little unsteady on his feet, like he’d been pre-drinking. Who pre-drinks before a work party with an open bar?

“Hi.” You looked over at Pietro, but he’d been waylaid talking to Scott and Hope. Beside you, Wanda got to her feet. You suddenly felt very vulnerable being the only person sitting down.

“I was hoping we could talk?” He glanced at Wanda, who glared back at him.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you said. You stood up, fully intending to go and find Pietro, but Andy threw a hand out, blocking your path.

“Don’t touch her,” Wanda hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Andy put his hand up in surrender. “Not touching. Just wanna talk.”

“She said she doesn’t want to talk.”

“Wanda, it’s okay,” you said, touching her arm. If Andy wanted to apologise, then you weren’t going to stop him.

He gave you a hard stare. “I just think it’s really funny how quickly you moved on after we broke up.”

That threw you for a loop. You looked at Wanda, who looked just as scandalised as you did.

“Excuse me?” you said, as if you could’ve possibly misheard him. “What did you just say?”

“I said I think it’s funny how quickly you moved on after we broke up.” His speech was slurred, so you knew he had been drinking. You doubted he would’ve had the balls to talk to you like this otherwise, especially not in front of people. “And you and Pietro were always so friendly, so, like-”

You looked at Wanda. “Are you hearing this?”

“The audacity of this asshole,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

You looked back over to where Pietro was, and found him staring back at you. As soon as you made eye contact, he said something to Scott, and then started walking towards you. If there was going to be a fight tonight, it was about to happen.

“I’m the asshole?” Andy scoffed.

“Yes, you’re the asshole,” you said. “You fucking cheated on me! You don’t get to have an opinion about who I sleep with after I broke up with you.”

“You know it’s not gonna last, right? I already told you that. He’ll find someone prettier, and more interesting, and-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Wanda threw her drink in his face. He sputtered for a moment, and then moved as if to slap her, but didn’t get the chance.

Pietro had grabbed his arm and wrestled it behind his back. Andy let out a howl of pain. Pietro twisted him until he was shoved up against the wall, his arm at a painful angle behind him. The room went quiet. You didn’t have to look to know that everyone was watching.

“You think you can get away with being an asshole when I’m not there, you piece of shit?” Pietro muttered. “You think you can just say what you want to my girl without consequences? You don’t get to hurt her anymore, you prick.” His words were dripping with venom. Andy let out a muffled whimper, his face pressed into the wall.

Tentatively, you put a hand on Pietro’s shoulder. He looked at you.

“Too much?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, that was proportional. You should let him go now, though.”

Pietro released him, and Andy spun around, clutching his arm to his chest. “You think I don’t see what you are, Pietro,” he spat. “I saw you hanging around my girlfriend, being all sweet on her, just waiting for me to make one mistake-”

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. Pietro stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. He glared down at Andy, but his next words were addressed to you.

“Prinţesă,” he said. “Do you want to get out of here? Because if this asshole doesn’t get out of my face, then I’m gonna end up going to jail.”

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing his arm. “You coming?” you asked Wanda, but she shook her head.

“He wouldn’t dare try anything with me now,” she said. “And this is my last chance to catch up with Nat before school starts again.”

“Alright.” You gave her a side hug and kissed her on the cheek. “Text me when you get home.”

“You too.”

Pietro gave his sister a hug, never taking his eyes off Andy. Andy was leaning against the wall, cradling his arm to his chest, looking as shrunken and pathetic as you’d ever seen him.  

You waved goodbye to your coworkers, who had all been watching the scene unfold, though none of them looked particularly surprised.

As soon as you stepped out into the open air, you exhaled. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed,” said Pietro, putting his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“Are you kidding? You jumping in to defend me is, like, the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He gave you a wry smile. “You wanna go for a walk down the beach?”

“With you? Always.”

Once you got down the sand, you kicked off your shoes. You tried to pick them up, but Pietro got there first, flashing you a grin as he slung them over his shoulder. His other hand found your waist, keeping you pressed close to him.

“You know what’s nice?” you said idly.

“Hm?”

“I thought the shit Andy was saying would bother me, but I’m past the point of caring. Who cares if he thinks that I cheated on him with you? Who cares if he thinks you’re gonna trade me in for someone hotter?”

“If he thinks that there’s anyone hotter than you then he’s a fucking idiot, and he never deserved you.”

Warmth prickled across your skin. The moon was high in the sky, and Pietro hand was warm on your lower back.

“He’s an idiot,” you agreed. “And he doesn’t know you at all. You’re not who he thinks you are. I think it makes him feel better to think all men are assholes, because that way, it’s not his fault that he’s an asshole. The idea that you’d be good to me is so foreign to him.”

Pietro stopped walking. “Being good to you is easy. You inspire the good in me.”

Your heart stuttered. Under the moonlight, you could see the earnest expression on his face.

“Pietro…” you breathed.

I think I’m falling in love with you. Do you feel the same?

You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say the words. You weren’t drunk enough. It was too soon. Instead, you stood up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.

“Sit with me?” he murmured when you separated, and you nodded.

More gracefully than you thought possible, he fell back into the sand, pulling you into his lap as he went.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His lips found a spot under your ear, sending tingles down your spine. His hand slid up under your skirt, skimming up your thigh until you shivered.

“Pietro, we’re in public,” you murmured half-heartedly.

“Do you want me to stop?” You could feel him smiling against the skin of your neck.

“No.”

“Good.”

His fingers slid past your panties, finding you wet and wanting. You let out a soft moan as he bit down on your neck, skimming his finger through your wetness.

“Piet,” you whined, threading your fingers into his curls.

“Mm?”

“I need you.”

He pulled back to grin at you, and then he turned, rolling you onto your back. Sand was getting into every fold of your clothes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when Pietro put his head under your skirt.

He mouthed over you through your panties, dragging a strangled groan from deep within you. When he peeled them away from your pussy, you could feel that they were stuck to you.

Earlier on in your relationship, you would’ve been embarrassed, but you knew that it turned Pietro on to see how wet he could make you. You stared up at the stars above you, your free hand drawing patterns in the sand as your boyfriend got to work between your thighs.

You closed your eyes.

You could hear the ocean. You could hear your own unsteady breathing. You could hear the wet sounds as Pietro licked and sucked and kissed your pussy.

“So pretty,” he mumbled. “So fucking beautiful and all mine.” He got like this sometimes, writing love letters to your pussy with his tongue, burying his face in you until you were the sum total of his experiences of the world.

Even though neither of you had said ‘I love you’ yet, he made you feel more loved than Andy ever had.

Your thighs were trembling. The heat was building inside you, ready to tip you over the edge. You knew that Pietro could tell. He dug his fingernails into the flesh of your thigh, speeding up the ministrations of his tongue.

“Cum for me, prinţesă,” he murmured, as if he was speaking to your pussy. He sucked your clit into his mouth and you let out an unexpected high-pitched gasp, clenching around nothing.

You moaned his name, cresting the wave of your orgasm. He held you through it, his fingers and tongue making you feel pleasure that, two months ago, would’ve been inconceivable to you.

He didn’t stop immediately, and your clit was starting to hurt, so you tapped him on the shoulder. He emerged from under your skirt, bright-eyed and licking his lips. You tugged him on top of you, letting him slide his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself in him.

“Can I fuck you?” he panted. “I could feel how tight you got when you came and I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.”

“Please,” you groaned, your hands dropping to the button of his jeans. With his help, he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees and then positioned himself between your legs.

You were both still mostly clothed – you were, after all, in public – and somehow that seemed to add to the desperation of the situation. Your fingers knotted themselves in his shirt, and he was holding onto the fabric that had bunched up at your hips.

When he slid inside you, you both groaned. Even though you had been dating for a month, every time felt like the first. He stretched you out, making you whimper his name.

By now, he knew how you liked it. He knew how to nibble at your neck just right, and the angle he needed to reach your g-spot. He grabbed your thigh, hooking your ankle over his shoulder, and started to fuck you, hard and deep.

He gave you less time to adjust than usual – you were both a little drunk and it felt too good to wait – so you were sure you’d be sore in the morning. You didn’t care. All you cared about was that right now, Pietro was making you see stars.

Besides, he would be there in the morning to bring you breakfast and kiss you better. He always took care of you.

Right now, he was quite a sight to behold: on his knees, debauched, hair a mess, shirt rucked up and jeans halfway down his thighs. You had done that to him. No one else got to see him like this. Not anymore.

Evidently, he had gotten bored of not kissing you, so he readjusted his angle, hooking your leg over his hip instead, and hovered over you. His forearms were either side of your head, caging you in. He was looking into your eyes with such intensity that you almost looked away. Almost.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he breathed, and your pussy clenched unexpectedly. At the sudden tightness, his eyes fell closed, a moan halfway out of his mouth before he knew what was happening.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, you grabbed his face and kissed him.

He smiled against your lips, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. Lying there on the beach, he made love to you. You never wanted it to end.

Eventually, it did end. He clawed at your sides, burying his face in your neck as his thrusting sped up. You slid your hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit to try and bring you to your second peak. Pietro got there first.

He pulled out, cum splattering all over your thighs. He didn’t even take a second to catch his breath before diving back between your legs, pushing three fingers inside you and licking over your clit.

You moaned his name as you came for the second time, breathless and wet and so, so in love. This time, you had to pry him off you. Even as your legs twitched and you whimpered with overstimulation, he didn’t stop.

When you pushed him away, he rolled over onto his back, laying down beside you.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Wow,” he agreed.

You rolled over, about to rest your head on his chest, but a movement at the edge of the beach caught your eye. Standing by the treeline that encircled the beach, mouth agape, was Andy.

When he saw you looking, he bolted. You sat up.

“What is it?” asked Pietro. “Something wrong?”

“Andy was watching us.”

He sat up, twisting around to look where you were looking.

You shook your head. “He’s gone.”

“Well… shit.”

“Shit.” You giggled.

He regarded you for a moment. “Do we care?”

“I guess not?”

“Okay, good.” He lay back on the sand, patting his chest. You took the hint, laying down half on top of him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”