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vinvantae · 1 year

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Unmasked

Part 3/16

<<< previous part

Includes some bad French and Italian - English translations at the end

Word count - 2.7k

You looked out the window as the helicopter flew over to Monaco, the sky was grey and the city seemed unusually quiet. Your father had bought you your apartment as a present for your championship win - buying gifts was his way of showing his love, that he was proud. Because he didn’t know any other way to. The NDA about your job had caused some tension in your family but you were never close enough with them to be that bothered by it. Now, more than ever, you could afford to pay for your own lifestyle.

Usually during break you’d disappear back to your home-base, hide away from the world for a while and be ‘normal’. Well, as normal as the youngest 2 time faceless WDC could be.

But what you were about to do was anything but normal. As you touched down on the helipad, you could see Charles lent against his car in the distance - a soft smile tugged at your lips when you saw the bouquet he was holding. Damn, he was good at this fake dating thing. You crossed the tarmac after stepping off of the helicopter, heart fluttering a little when Charles’ face lit up at the sight of you. Gosh, he’s pretty.

“Those for me? You shouldn’t have.” You smiled softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. His free hand found a spot on your waist, kissing each of your cheeks.

He chuckled, passing them to you. “Can’t meet my girl without flowers now, can I? What kind of boyfriend would that make me?”

You gave him a hug, relaxing into his hold as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head - the PDA should have felt weird, but it felt scarily comfortable. The driver stepped away to open the passenger door for you, hand on the small of your back as you climbed in. Charles took a glance around and saw an older gentleman watching you both, almost as if he was trying to place you both. He simply gave him a nod and slid into the driver's seat.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke up, his eyes on the road. “Please let me know if I cross a line with the PDA stuff.”

“I will, but I can’t see that happening.” You smiled sweetly, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze. “I feel so comfortable around you, Charles.”

“So…” He smiled at some people as they crossed the road in front of you. “If I needed to kiss you..?”

Your cheeks flushed that same soft pink that he loved so much. “Got to make it believable, right?”

The two of you looked away from each other simultaneously, you hid your smile behind your hand as you looked out the car. You raised a brow as Charles drove past your street and kept driving.

“Uhm? You missed my flat.”

“Thought we could have a cute homemade pasta date… you know, for instagram.”

You giggled softly, the sound making Charles’ heart flutter. He knew it was part of the contract, but he couldn’t believe that you were really here with him right now.

“Oh yeah, for instagram.” You teased, taking in the sights as you continued your drive through the city - you pulled your sunglasses over your face, mostly to protect your eyes from the sun threatening to escape from behind the clouds but you were still trying to keep your identity a little mysterious. Leave people guessing who was in Charles’ car for a moment longer.

Charles pulled into the parking lot for his apartment, resting one hand behind your headrest as he reversed into his spot. “Let’s get you fed.”

“When did you have time to go pasta ingredient shopping anyway?” You asked, taking his hand as he helped you out of the car. “And hey, no one can see us, you don’t have to be all couple-y with me when we’re alone if you don’t want to.”

“I’ve been here a couple hours.” He hummed, draping an arm across your shoulder as you smelled the bouquet. “And I know, but you’re still my friend. Gonna treat you right, regardless.”

You lent into his hold, letting him lead you into the elevator. “Thank you… sorry, I’m just not used to hanging out with people.”

“Well that’s gonna change from here on out. You’re gonna be so fed up with me by the end of the break.” His grin was playful. “Here’s me.”

He swiped his keycard and held the door open for you, letting you step inside. You were greeted by what you’d definitely call a bachelor pad - it was somewhere he didn’t spend a lot of time because of the race schedule so it was well kept. He helped you remove your coat and hug it up on the peg.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks, it does the job. Place to sleep, place to eat.” He shrugged, kicking off his shoes. “I’ve never really settled in though.”

You hummed. “Maybe a homemade pasta dinner will make it feel a little different?”

His lips curled up into a smile. “I hope so. It’s nice to have you here. Been a long time coming really… I-I mean like… we’ve been friends for so long it’s almost weird that-“

“Charles, chill, I get it.” You teased, nudging your hip against his before heading into the kitchen. “Ooh spacious.”

The Monaco native moved around you as he pulled ingredients from the cupboard. There was a lull in conversation as you weighed things out but the quiet was comfortable, you didn't even notice snap a photo of you making a meal of mixing the dough before he gently nudged you aside and started kneading the dough.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and sent a quick message to the PR manager.

YN - can I post some subtle photos of Charles on my insta story? We’re making pasta

PR - Sounds perfect. Send them via me before you post pls :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

yourinstagram added to their story

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The two of you sat around the table, enjoying your pasta with some comfortable chatter as you split a bottle of wine. You smiled softly as Charles relayed back some memories of before he knew you were Thirty.

“It was your first win of the season in 2018. You had climbed on top of your car and were waving around the Ferrari flag… you were so cool. I really wanted to be your teammate some day, I was worried you were going to retire before I got a chance.” He chuckled softly. “Little did I know, you were just a kid like me.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” You smiled softly, twirling your pasta around the fork. “You know… you’ve never really told me how you actually felt about me being y’know… me.”

The driver paused for a moment, taking a sip of his wine as he thought back. He had a nostalgic, almost wistful smile on his face. “Honestly? At first I couldn’t really believe it. Not only were you a girl but like… young. I was actually so shocked.”

His eyes flickered over you as you dipped your wine before he continued speaking. “But mostly? I was so impressed. To have achieved so much you were an amazing talent and I thought it was a shame that they kept you hidden away. So many little girls could use an idol like you, y/n. Having you as my teammate has inspired me, so I can’t even fathom what it would mean to them.”

“Charles.” You said, placing a hand over your heart. “You’re going to make me cry, thank you… I’m grateful I met you. You’re such a good friend, and I’m glad - perhaps besides the circumstances - that we get to hang out more.”

The driver cheersed his glass against yours, not missing the way you’d called him a friend. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t real, as much as he wished it was. Whilst he could hold your hand and kiss you in public, behind closed doors you were simply friends. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable - he knew how frustrating it was for girls when a male friend you thought you could trust made a move. If anything were ever to happen, he wanted it to come from you.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. I’ll get you home in a bit, I imagine you’ve got quite a bit to unpack?”

You groaned. “Don’t remind me. I did have the flat cleaned before I showed up but I need to order groceries… Do we have anything tomorrow?”

Charles fished his phone out of his pocket and opened up the itinerary your PR manager had sent you over, eyes flickering across the screen. “I think they’re giving us a day to settle in.”

“Perfect. Because I’m shattered.” You stretched your arms above your head, a soft yawn escaping you. “But, you’re more than welcome to join me at my place if you find yourself with nothing to do.”

“Might be your only day free of me, love. I think you’ll get bored of me.” His voice had a teasing lilt but you could tell he meant it as his eyes didn’t meet yours as he started clearing the table. “I really enjoyed this though.”

With a nod you stood up, taking your empty wine glasses through to the kitchen - Charles close behind. “I enjoyed it too. Can I maybe help more next time?”

He playfully rolled his eyes. “If you promise not to ruin my pasta noodles again… needs a gentle touch.”

“Didn’t know you were so passionate about pasta, Charles.” You laughed.

“I am not, you’re just clumsy.” The smile on his face was fond. “Pass those here. I need to rinse before I put it in the dishwasher.”

“I was expecting you to be more of a slob.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

You returned his previous eye roll and passed him the glasses, stepping away to lean against the counter as he popped the dishes in the dishwasher. It still felt so crazy that you were allowed to hang out with him now, this time two days ago the most he could do was hide away with you in your driver’s room and now you were in his home. It should’ve felt weirder than it did, but you were glad how easy this was.

“I don’t know if you remember, way before you moved to GP3, when we were like… 7 or 8 maybe? That wet race in Belgium.” He turned to face you, standing opposite you now - you were mirroring each other's stance. “Where you drove through that puddle and absolutely drowned me.”

A fond laugh escaped you. “Absolutely I do. And do you remember why I did that?”

“…No.” He lied, feigning confusion. “I have no memory of that.”

You crossed the kitchen until you stood almost directly in front of him, his eyes bore into yours and your confidence wavered for a moment. He raised a brow, the corner of his lip tugging up into a challenging smirk. “Are you going to remind me or are you just gonna stare?”

“You yanked on my hair, said that girls had cooties and I shouldn’t be allowed to race with you.” You narrowed your eyes, prodding him directly in the centre of the chest. “So I think 7 year old you fully deserved to be splashed.”

“Well, 7 year old me was very stupid.” The Monegasque hummed. “I should’ve considered myself lucky being able to drive alongside a future world champion.”

“Too right.”

His eyes flickered across your face, you could almost see the memories replaying in the bright blues as he studied you. “You know what they say about when little boys tug on little girls’ hair though, right?”

Your heart skipped a beat but before his words could really sink in, his phone rang from the counter behind him. He kept his eyes trained on your face as he reached to take it - lifting it to his ear without seeing who was calling.

“Pronto?*1” He paused. “Ah Pierre! Ça va… oui… je suis avec un ami… Oui, Pierre, elle est une fille*2.”

You held in a giggle as he rolled his eyes at his friend’s insistence of being aware of every girl that ever roamed the planet. Charles held a finger to his lips, fighting back a smile himself as Pierre continued to ramble at him down the phone.

“Bon, à demain*3.” He hung up the phone. “So, you know how we had no plans tomorrow?”

“What on earth have you signed us up for?”

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Pierre is coming over to Monaco tomorrow, wants to go out. Would be a good opportunity for you to meet some of my friends, no?”

“Fine.” You groaned, letting your forehead fall against his chest. “Just Pierre?”

“…Max and Daniel as well.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” He chuckled, his laughter vibrated through you as he wrapped an arm around you - pulling you into him for a hug. “You’ll have a good time. They’re good guys, I promise. And because you’re my ‘girlfriend’ Pierre should behave himself.”

“I’m not sure if I should be excited or nervous.”

“It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll order you a ride home, I’d drive but we polished off that wine.” Charles released you from his hug, smiling down at you. “I’ll swing round yours before we meet the boys tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Works for me. Just give me a rough time so I can get ready.”

After saying your goodbyes at the door, you climbed into the car and made your way back to your own flat - it was dark now, the dull grey of the sky had changed to a deep blue but the world around you remained illuminated by the bright buildings of Monaco. Your place was only 10 minutes from his, so you were home fairly quickly - making sure to tip the driver.

When you stepped into your apartment you noticed a large bouquet of flowers with an envelope tucked inside of them but you didn’t even stop to read it. Knowing it was from your father, once again too busy to make time to see you during your break from racing, instead just throwing money your way. You were grateful that his lifestyle had meant you were able to get into racing at a young age but you had paved your own way, able to fend for yourself.

Your Monaco flat wasn’t as lived in as your place back home but you had made it homely. Blankets and pictures dotted around, the soft smell of whatever candle the cleaner had used to cover the smell of cleaning solution. It wasn’t your intention to be here during the winter break but you knew it was easier for your contract with Charles.

But one thing you knew here was an old photo album from back when you were a kid. You fished through a draw and pulled it out, flipping through the pages until you found the photo of you, Charles and Max on the podium in that race in Belgium - the future Ferrari driver soaked from head to toe. You brushed your thumb over the photo before sending a picture of it to Charles.

YN - Looking a little damp here, Charles

CL - Can’t believe you still have a photo! Nice helmet hair 😘

You chuckled at his response before ticking the album back away, letting your mind wander to tomorrow. Meeting Daniel properly for the first time. Seeing Max and Pierre for the first time since you karted with them as a kid. Would they like you? Would any of them even suspect who you are? Would the younger two even remember you?

But more than anything you were just excited to get to know the people you’d worked with for so many years. You had existed in the same world for years but had never shared more than a congratulatory handshake or pat on the back. But now you were going to look them in the eyes, they were going to hear your voice.

It was just a shame they wouldn’t know who you were, they’d just think you were Charles’ new girlfriend. You just hoped that the day they learned the truth would be sooner rather than later, because until then, they would never really know the real you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

Next part>>>

*1 ‘Ready’ - how Italians often answer the phone

*2 ‘How are you… yes… I’m with a friend… yes, Pierre, she’s a girl’

*3 ‘Good, see you tomorrow’

Hope you enjoyed ❤️❤️ thank you all for your continued support x

Mixed media won the poll so I hope you enjoyed this new layout! I may still post some edits separately but mostly they’ll be integrated into chapters like this

#Unmasked fic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #formula one #x reader #Charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #leclerc x reader

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harrywavycurly · 1 year

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Hey Sarah, I need an Eddie x mommy reader in which they cuddle in bed with their newborn baby girl 🥺

Hiiii my lovey!!! Okay so this turned me to MUSHHHHH so I hope you enjoy it while I go mop up the puddle my heart just melted into 🫠🫠💖

*Eddie swears he’s never seen anything so tiny or so damn cute*

“Who told you that you could be so cute?” Eddie whispers as he leans down so his nose is gently brushing the tip of his baby girl’s tiny little nose. You smile as she closes her eyes as a few stands of his hair falls into her face. “I demand to know who allowed to be so adorable.” He pulls his head back a bit so he can look her in the eyes and smile before he looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. “Was it your mom? Did she tell you that you’re allowed to be this cute?” You playfully roll your eyes as you sit up so your back is resting against the headboard, Eddie is sitting next to you with your newborn little girl in his arms who has just woken up from a nap.

“I did no such thing.” You joke making Eddie chuckle as he leans down and places a kiss to her forehead. “I did tell her that her dad is a softy though.” Eddie looks over at you and you smile as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And that he’s loved her since the very first time he heard her heartbeat all those months ago.” You add making Eddie let out a sigh of content as he looks back at the little girl in his arms.

“Your mom has just been letting you in on all my secrets huh?” He teases as you place a kiss to the top of his shoulder. “She’s right though, I have loved you since I first heard your little heartbeat. Even before then if I’m being honest. I’ve loved you the moment your mom told me she was pregnant.” Eddie can’t help but pull his little girl a little closer to his chest as he gets comfortable on the bed. You sit up so he can lay down and lay her flat on his chest earning him a sweet little sound of approval from her making a grin take over your face.

“She’s so tiny.” Eddie just nods in agreement as you reach over and run a hand up and down her back making her squirm a bit. The two of you watch her for a moment to make sure she doesn’t start fussing, having learned that when she squirms a lot it means a crying fit is on its way.

“So tiny.” You scoot down on the bed so you can rest your head on Eddie’s chest as he wraps an arm around you. “Like look how small her nose is.” You smile as you’re face to face with her, you reach out and gently tap her nose, not being able to resist.

“I think she wins cutest Munson.” You declare as you look up at Eddie as she closes her eyes after letting out a little yawn. “No offense to Wayne.” Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes as he places his hand on her back, he still isn’t used to how small she is and how his large hand takes up most of her little body.

“He lost that title the moment you joined the family baby.” You just smile as you feel Eddie’s lips press a kiss to the top of your head. “My girls are the cutest.” He smiles as he watches you lean over and place a kiss to her little cheeks.

“How’d we get so lucky?” You question as you rest your cheek against his chest letting out a sigh as you feel him shrug.

“I think it’s better not to question it.” He explains as he presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Can you believe we are actual fucking parents?” His voice is barely a whisper as you tilt your head up so you can look at him and smile when you see him already looking down at you.

“It’s crazy right? Like what the hell are we doing?” You answer as you watch him smile as he leans down so he can place a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Well right now we are cuddling with the cutest and tiniest little girl in the world.” You giggle as he brushes his nose against yours. “The rest we will figure out as we go.” He reassures you with a smile before he places another kiss to your lips making you smile as he pulls away.

#dad!eddie x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble #dad eddie munson #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

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stanningstanhd · 9 months

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THIS is The Most Beautiful Bucky Smut scene I have EVER read in my life.

I’ll link it below for you guys, but stop what you are doing right now and read this.

There are fics that deserve more recognition and then there are stories like the one I just read. I wanted to spread the word to everyone about the most amazing, beautiful, raw, stunning, and alluring sex scene of any Bucky Barnes fanfiction I’ve ever read. Putting Nicholas Sparks, that one fic Possessed, to SHAME.

Like, seriously.

Stop what you are doing right now, and listen to this rant I’m about to go on. This is a well deserved rant.

I recently came across this fic called Take It Back by @allandoflimbo . The fic itself is probably the most underrated piece of art I’ve ever come across on here. To the point where after I read it it blew my mind that some cheaters only had a few hundreds likes, no comments, and some chapters not even in the hundreds, because when I tell you this story is BEAUTIFUL. I mean it with all my heart and soul.

You’ve probably get told a lot by other people go read this fic you’ll love it go read that one and you probably save them for later, but this is a story you do not save for later.

I am telling you right now, if you are reading this post, go goddamn read this heart wrenching and beautiful piece of art. DO IT!

Back to my purpose with this post…this story has a love scene in it. A smut scene. Sex scene, or what ever you prefer to call it. It’s in the core part of this book and so beautifully and perfectly placed. Even reading it alone is just…the amount of emotions, conviction, and goosebumps that will unravel over your body is insane. There are smut scenes in fics that make you hot and bothered, and this one does make you feel that way, but it also does something else to you. You break and heal at once. You cry and smile, you whimper and you have to take deep breaths.

I’m going to quote some of it here for you guys so you have a general idea of what I’m talking about.

The moment leading to the kiss.

There’s slow burns, and then there’s tension of unbelievable thickness, paced out so well that Alandoflimbo captures perfectly. You can tell she poured her heart into leading up to the kiss. That when it finally happens, you feel the same exact emotions they both feel when it happens.

First it’s the dialogue.

“You know why.”

Perfect. Three little words and the reader knows what’s going to happen.

It’s so quiet that the only thing you two can hear is the sound of his breathing, your tiny feet walking, and the distant hum of the refrigerator. You see the muscles in his back tense when you get closer to him, the silence in the room becomes unbearably quiet. It was screaming at you both, it was the answer you both needed in your own way. The silent scream was the phrase he had said moments ago that still lingered in the air like a damn siren. Because you loved him.

…

You stretch out your fingers flat against his back, making him sigh. The moonlight peeks in through his large window as your hand drags slowly up his back. His breath hitches audibly at the feel of it. His eyes close together again as his right-hand falls against his leg. He rubs his hand there on his jeans. trying to get rid of the nervous sweat that had gathered on the edge of his palm. He can’t breathe.

There’s more, and so much much more before they kiss. And when they do it’s perfect.

And the smut scene…by god. BY FUCKING GOD.

Ten thousand words that would put Nicholas Sparks to shame. That’s right, ten thousand words.

Like I said, I’m still surprised at how unknown this story is because I’m not exaggerating when I say it is the best BuckyxReader fic out there. Please, please read it. This gem deserves all the attention in the world.

If you’re interested in just the sex scene, it’s in Chapter 17 “Our First Dance”. But I would recommend reading the full thing from the beginning if you can. I believe the author also put out a BuckyxOC Version if that’s more your thing.

This story is beautiful. Magnificent. Bravo @allandoflimbo , bravo.

The link

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #MCU #fanfic #bucky smut #bucky fandom #winter soldier #50 shades of gray #wattpad #bucky x oc #bucky x reader

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philtstone · 19 days

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jaime/claire -- holding the other's chin up

after literally one million years i finally finished this. this is not technically an om-shanti-om au but it's not not one, either

On Wednesday morning, Jamie and his Ghost had a row.

It is now Thursday afternoon, and Jamie is sitting in a hospital room, covered in muck from head to toe and wondering if this isn’t God’s great punishment for daring to leave his bloody flat.

He’s not sure when he started referring to the Ghost as his. Traditionally, if you’re the sort to believe in such things, ownership of ghosts runs through 1) ancestry or 2) a familial home. His aunt Jocasta, for example, had an ornery old Frenchman in the cellar of the MacKenzies’ old brick tower who had no relation to any of them, but wouldn’t let the damned house go generation after generation; Jocasta claims the bastard had been the mysterious lad who seduced that one grand-cousin of theirs into batting for the other side, which led to his divorcing his wife and moving to Cuba – and who is Jamie to have his doubts, really, when he’s got a ghost of his own.

The argument could be made that Jamie’s ghost has taken up residence in his flat — hence his turn of phrase. But he’s only renting after all, and more than that, he’s got a weird feeling she never snooped through the previous tenants’ bookshelves or sock drawers or anything either.

Now she won’t speak to him. It is four months to the day Jamie moved in, and, not two hours later, made her acquaintance while having an angry cry on the toilet. It’d been a rough go of it – between the accident and Jenny and Da —

Jamie had, at that time, resigned himself to the inevitability of his flunking out of graduate work before he’d ever started it. He’d barely been making it to his physio appointments when the Ghost appeared, let alone his classes; either he wouldn’t answer Jenny’s calls or she wouldn’t answer his; and in the twenty four hours he’d been in his new flat, the upstairs neighbours had already had audibly angry sex twice, which was two times too many for Jamie’s fragile mental state (not to mention his resounding lack of girlfriend). It was amidst all of this that The Ghost materialized.

The Ghost glows like a firefly, speaks like she stepped out of a World War Two-era black and white film and can’t seem to stay in one spot long enough for Jamie to see her face properly. She hasn't got a name, has given no indication of a family, and won’t tell him how and where she died. She’s miserable when she isn’t cracking laughs out of him by snooping through his old copy of Descartes and wondering aloud whether he actually reads the books he owns. She herself has no patience for reading (though she accidentally knocked a lamp over exclaiming at his battered copy of Lord of the Rings), endless patience for his sporadic monologues on morphological theory, and a complete fascination with his mobile phone. Also, the soapy mess that is Grey’s Anatomy, which was playing on the telly once.

“How old were ye,” Jamie asked one day, blowing on his instant noodles, which the Ghost had been eyeing with great skepticism for the latter half of the last fifteen minutes. He supposed she had every right to judge, if she were once a twentieth century housewife, but very little about her suggested an abundance of housewifely skills.

“What are your thoughts on knitting?” asked the Ghost, apropos of nothing.

“I asked first.”

“Did you.”

“When ye went, I mean. How old were ye?”

For a moment it was hard to look directly at her, because she was suddenly far less clearly formed than before. Then, quick as a wink, she was young and mostly corporeal again.

“Terribly,” said the Ghost. “I had white hair and everything.”

He mulled this over. “I can imagine it must’ve been quite somethin’ tae behold,” he says. “Sorcha.”

She smiled, all brilliance, all tenderness – very different from the sadness that lingered around her otherwise. Slowly she floated over, under his silent observation, and with hands that were not fully there and made of the stuff of nightlights cupped his face, lifting his chin. There in his sad little kitchen she glowed. Jamie kept blinking behind his glasses, like maybe if he did it hard enough, he could finally see her. Did she have a husband she missed? Jamie thought. Was it paining her something awful to be stuck in his sad little studio, with the two plants left living and the little grey cat no one in the building would properly claim ownership of?

Then, “Knitting,” she said. So Jamie confessed what little his Mam had taught him as a kid.

She knows all the scientific names of the bones and ligaments and tissues in his body that were damaged in the accident, and – perhaps due to her ghostly nature – can preternaturally guess when each thing is paining him. It upsets her to realize that her hands are not solid enough to sooth the hurts, and gladdens her when he assures her companionship is taking his mind off things a bit, before – incomprehensibly – she looks miserable again. She swears like a sailor and would probably fart in her sleep, were she not an incorporeal being with a transmutable form not in need of traditional rest.

She’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. Nevermind he can’t really see her; Jamie just knows. Her hair is one large amorphous cloud of curls and she stares at him with such unspeakable sadness and makes a little humming noise when she’s at rest, like the singing of a hundred little stones. And there is a soft sort of buttery halo around her, which was enough to stun him into silence at their first meeting and has become oddly soothing now, enough that he gives her that silly little nickname, and he’s lonely, something feckin’ awful.

It’s not like he’s not self-aware. Problem is, now she might be gone forever, and it’s all his fault.

He keeps playing it over and over in his head. He might’ve been a little churlish, sure – he was tired from his early lecture, he’d kept his contacts in too long, the anniversary of Da’s passing was coming up on Friday and Jenny kept insisting that he ought to come for a visit …

That was it, wasn’t it? Jamie didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to go home, and the Ghost in all her sort of sad floaty care for him snapped in the way of a brittle little twig. She had an awful temper sometimes. He’d heard her yell at the kitchen wall once when she found she couldn’t float through it.

“James Fraser,” she said in her posh little accent, “are you going to continue wallowing in this miserable fucking flat or are you going to get up off your arse and face the bloody world like a man?”

Jamie found this somewhat infuriating. He had left his flat, thanks very much – he went to class now, and he was making real progress in physio, and, well, sure, he’d turned down the lads the last few times they invited him out for a match, but maybe he’d go this time – there was no proof he wouldn’t! So it wasn’t feckin’ fair of her, to talk down to him so. Jamie refused to be called a coward in his own flat.

By a ghost, no less.

“It’s no’ like you ever leave either,” he’d snapped in response, the discomfort of being seen rankling under his skin and sharpening his tongue into something rude.

“I’m dead,” said the Ghost.

“Aye,” muttered Jamie mutinously. “Well.”

“Don’t be an arse.”

“Ye’d be fair lonely wi’out me here tae keep ye company, would ye no’?”

“I’d – read your books,” she defended, unbelievably. “You – you just – don’t you want a happy and vibrant life?”

“What do you think?” he picked up his books, which were strewn over the living room couch, for something to do.

“Well, I don’t know! You keep hiding!”

“I’m no’ hiding!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Mary, Michael and – why do ye care so much, ye irritating apparition!”

“I care because I bloody well have to!”

Had he not been so caught up in his own irritation, he would have noted the odd strand of desperation in her voice.

“Fine,” said Jamie, waving about An Introduction To Language And Linguistics, Third Edition with finality. “Well. I’ve plenty of reasons to be a homebody, ken -- right ones, real ones. But if that’s the case, then yer whole existence is sad.”

“I beg your pardon,” said the Ghost.

“Aye,” Jamie was really working up to something, he’d thought, “Ye clearly havenae anywhere else to be, hangin’ about this dump.”

“Where else would I bloody well go?”

“I dinna ken, do I?” He couldn’t see her properly – the details of her face were always a mystery, but now she kept glowing in and out of focus as a general ill emotion build within her in the far corner of the room, “as ye tell me nothing about yerself and spend half the day actin’ like a time traveller and the other half the day lookin’ at me like ye’re about tae cry! I don’t think I’m the one wallowing here, Sorcha, and at least my presence is wanted by the feckin’ landlord! No one asked you tae show up!”

Perhaps he had gone too far; something about the Ghost’s presence blanched, like he’d given her a true fright. Then, after an awful moment of strangulated silence … she snapped back.

It devolved pretty quickly from there. In between the mutual screaming, Jamie got the feeling that she would have thrown things, could she have gotten her incorporeal hands on them properly enough to harness physics.

At some point, he had run out of steam, stormed out, and slammed the door behind himself, intent on finally taking up the offer of rugby with his friends.

Too bad about the torrential downpour. Too bad Rupert tackles like a giant lout, and Jamie slid five feet on the grass before slamming down directly on his shoulder and popping it out of socket.

He sighs, miserably. The hospital room is cold, mostly because he remains so thoroughly damp; his hair is plastered to his forehead and his jeans cling to his legs. So much for going out and partaking in the wide human world like a man properly recovering from a year’s worth of back to back traumas. Hmph. Jamie sniffs and wipes at his glasses (smudged) with his free and un-dislocated arm. He supposes he is recovering, sort of. It’s been easy to miss, given how simple the Ghost has made everything feel, but he feels exceptionally more human now than he did mere months ago. Jamie of September would never have dislocated his shoulder, because he was too busy being depressed.

He squirms in place. He ought to go home and check on the Ghost. What if all the yelling caused her to simply vanish? What if she’s hiding from him, indefinitely? He doesn’t think Edinburgh local business bureau has any reliable sort of ghost hunting service listed on its website. When Angus stopped by to pick up Jamie’s laptop so he could at least get his readings done for class tomorrow via hospital room, he responded to Jamie’s possibly-deranged Ghost-related line of questioning with an honest, “I’ve looked everywhere, mate. Cannae see hide nor hair of any ghostly lassie. D’ye think she’s gone tae her sister’s, perhaps?”

Even if this were a helpful question, Jamie hasn’t any idea whether the Ghost has any siblings at all.

Shite. He groans. It’s bad enough the shock’s worn off, and his shoulder is starting to properly hurt now. He hangs his head and leans his forehead against his uninjured wrist, squeezing his eyes shut against the mess everything’s become. He’s still facing the ground with his eyes shut when the faint sound of heeled footsteps swells louder and turns the corner, entering the room with a neat swish of hospital bed paper and curtain.

“Mr. James Fraser, is it?” says a light, distinctly British female voice, evidently scanning over whatever chart they’ve got set up for him, “that’s a nasty glenohumeral dislocation you’ve got there. You wouldn’t have happened to be playing rugby in the rain like an idiot, would you?”

Jamie cracks his eyes open specifically to roll them. He doesn’t get very far: the doctor standing in front of him is a tall young woman, with a mass of thick, dark curly hair tied out of her face, wry laughing eyes and an upturned little mouth that makes it very clear they are both supposed to be in on whatever joke she’s trying to make. She has a slender neck, a very competent set to her brows, and could be described as somewhat twiggy in figure save for her wonderfully curved arse, which Jamie gets an unexpected view of as she leans over the chair in the corner to close the bed’s curtain properly.

Jamie unsticks his throat with a bit of effort. “Hm?” he says, very eloquently.

“I asked, are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseous?”

“No, I feel fine. ‘Tis just my arm, Sassenach.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Between the dislocated shoulder and the woman in front of him it could really be anything that’s causing his complete discombobulation – enough to put his foot in it, it seems – but something about the tone and inflection of her sharp little question has Jamie’s head spinning more than the rugby tackle.

“Er – Doctor Sassenach, I mean. Or rather – jest Doctor, but I didnae mean it as an offense – it was just an observation. Granted, we’re in Edinburgh, so it wouldn’t – but I’m from – that is, my family, I grew up far North, so …” he trails off; she is now very industriously poking and prodding at his collar bone. Oh, right – he does remember her saying she was about to do that. “I meant no offense,” he concludes.

“No offense taken,” says the Doctor. She sounds like she’s on the verge of laughing, this time at him.

“Ye’ve got a very gentle touch,” Jamie says, like a right idiot.

“Thank you,” says the Doctor. “Now, I’m going to reset your arm – there’s nothing else for it, it’ll hurt like hell for a minute. But you’ll be alright Mr. Fraser.”

They go through the motions together; Jamie follows her instructions, marvels at how strong and precise she is with skinny arms and small hands, and only blacks out a little when his shoulder pops back into place.

“God,” he gasps, blinking. In front of him, the Doctor is looking over him with concern.

“Everything alright? How are you feeling?”

“A little bit like someone’s punched my lights out, I willnae lie.” She laughs, but her hands remain on him, gentle first on his chest, then neck, pushing him upright.

“An expected feeling,” she says. “Hold still a moment, I’m going to properly check you for a concussion.”

And before Jamie can protest that he’s fine, she has taken his chin in both hands and gently tilted his face up towards her, so as to better shine the little flashlight into his eyes.

It’s as if a giant multi-metric tonne train has slammed into Jamie at twelve hundred kilometers an hour. The nice Sassenach doctor is glowing like a firefly and eyeing his ramen with skepticism and asking him about knitting and crying and yelling and touching him so gently because now her hands can actually touch him and he knows her, he swears he knows her deep deep deep in some inner place inside of him and quite possibly he is in love with her, and maybe has been, forever.

Jamie comes back to Earth. She is making an altogether undignified face as she moves his chin back and forth and examines his reaction time. Her tongue sticks out a little. Bits of frizz have popped out of her ponytail and are decorating her hairline like a halo.

“Hi,” Jamie says breathily, like a fool.

She stills, and looks over to meet his eye, and for a moment they stare at each other like that, nose to nose.

“Hello,” she says.

Then she pulls away and marks something on her notepad; the interaction is all but over. Off to her next patient, probably. “Alright. Well, no concussion, from what I can tell. I’ll ask you to self-monitor, though, and I’ll prescribe you some pain meds for the shoulder. I’d go home and get some rest if I were you,” she hesitates, and in a curious sort of way adds, “is everything alright, really?”

“Fine,” says Jamie. “Only, just now I felt like I’d seen a ghost.” He laughs, and it’s an overall strangled sound, which can and should be forgiven. “Ye ever felt anything like that, Sassenach?”

She is halfway to the door already, and he’s sure she will call him a nutter on the way out, even if in that wry way of hers. But she stops. Turns back. Smiles at him – not quite radiant, nor tender, but curious and familiar.

“You know … I think I do?”

“Aye?”

“It’s Claire, by the way.”

He blinks. “Your ghost?”

“No,” and now she really is laughing at him. “My name. Dr. Claire Beauchamp. But if you must call me an outlander, James Fraser whose family lived in the North, then I suppose I am alright with that, too.”

She leaves Jamie grinning more widely than he has in months. He’s got the odd feeling that whenever he gets home, his flat will be empty. Strangely, this is not an upsetting premonition. He’s more concerned with somehow getting Dr. Claire Beauchamp’s phone number – and somehow, he’s pretty sure the Ghost would approve.

#i havent written jamieclaire in literal years so i hope the characterizations are ok #my truest beloveds actually. i missed them so much #outlander #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #claire x jamie

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anathemafiction · 10 months

Text

June Q&A

Beka is left alone with Alessa and Hadrian.

The door closes with a soft thud, and silence falls over the room. Three pairs of eyes look anywhere but at each other. Hadrian sweeps his tongue over his lip, clears his throat, and then lifts his chin to count the number of cobwebs on the ceiling.

He counts three, no, two. That last one is just a particularly damp stain that somehow looks more alive than the cobwebs do. Hadrian narrows his eyes, trying to see the spider hanging from her silken traps, but the light is too dim, and he can't meet the eight little shining eyes that, unknowingly to him, watch him just as intensely.

This is her house, after all. All these meddling humans are always coming to disturb the peace.

Alessa sits like an iceberg in her chair, her back so straight that she rivals the wood. Her hands grip her knees, and her lips disappear in a tense, flat line. She stares at the window, although she cannot see past the veil of night. A slither of a pale moon illuminates the sky, its light as pathetic as the handful of stars that litter it. Alessa thinks this night is a poor example of one, but then again, right now, she would think the whole world is a poor affair.

Alessa does not like, nor is she accustomed to feeling... which is the correct word? She supposed it can be called uneasy. Yes, discomfiting. A fool like Hadrian might even call it awkward. She does not like to feel awkward. And yet... she steals a glance at the child in the corner, sulking on top of the chair like a great bird of gloom. Alessa feels she ought to say something, but what that might be is the real problem.

Why is Hadrian not speaking? Is he not the thoughtful one? Alessa turns her glare at the big fool, who, for some reason, is squinting his eyes at a cobweb.

She mentally sighs.

Beka... Beka glares at the door, and she'll be damned, but it seems the thing is glaring right back. "Damn Richie," she grumbles with all the fervor of a young soul. She sucks on the hole between her teeth, her mood darkening by the second.

She doesn't like to think of herself as neglected. She ain't some dependent stupid little girl. She can take care of herself, she always has. But Beka can't believe you left her here with...

Her narrowed eyes glide over to the two idiots. They're breathing way too loud, and she doesn't like the way that woman is sitting in her chair. Beka never saw a stiffer human. "What's wrong with ya?" she asks aloud, partially because she's done with this odd silence. The other is because Beka likes the way the woman jerks in surprise.

She cracks a mean-spirited smile.

Both the woman and the man turn to look at her. Beka knows their names, but she refuses to even think them. They're just Richie's companions. Not even allies, she's Richie's only ally.

"Whatever do you mean?" the woman asks, then, and Beka's smile vanishes at the tone of her voice. "I am sitting, as are you."

"Am I?" Beka challenges, without much reason. She just wants to challenge something. "That's news to me. I thought I was laying."

The woman's eyebrows shoot up. "Then perhaps you are more slow-witted than I granted you credit for."

The words take a while to process. Beka doesn't like how the woman talks, all complicated, but she blinks, and slowly, she understands. Beka snarls. "Whatcha mean by—"

"What she means." The man jumps from his seat and crosses the floor with eager energy. Both Beka and the cold woman look at him, and Beka can't help but think of how dumb his little nervous smile looks. "Is what would you like to do, Beka?"

The girl turns her chin to the side, giving him a side-long look. She puts in it as much disdain as she can. "... what can we do?" she asks tentatively, voice suspicious. She likes it when people call her by her name, very few do, except for Richie and now... this man. But she won't be so easily conquered.

The man smiles wide again. Beka hates how kind it looks. "Well, how about... we play a game?"

She scoffs. "What do you take me for? A baby?"

"Certainly not an adult."

Beka's head whips at Aless— the woman. "And ya certainly a bitch."

The woman's mouth hangs open.

(...)

Which ROs are most receptive to physical affection?

I'll interpret this as an honest, genuine physical show of love and affection, and not lust or desire. Because that would change the rating a lot — so, for this, I'm considering gestures like holding hands, a chaste kiss on the cheek or the forehead, a brush of gentle fingertips on the back of their shoulders, a tucking of a hair strand behind the ear. Leaning into them or have them lean into you when you're seated beside one another, holding their elbow for silent support, matching your pace with theirs, maybe nudging their feet under a table.

All those small gestures that can feel heavier and more meaningful than a night of passion. All the ROs will, at some point, be okay with (and even seek) this kind of intimacy, but it certainly comes more naturally to some than others.

I think Hadrian and Ysabella are tied for first place. Both are incredibly open with their affection, and both seek it—both need it— in their partners. Hadrian earnestly and devoutly, like a treasure he found after years of deprivation, and he cannot get enough of it. He'll do it often, and he'll do it without even thinking about it. He just wants to be close to you, to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to know that you're there and you're alright and Lord in Heaven, but he's lucky. He's lucky when you smile at him, he's lucky when you kiss him, and Hadrian melts every time you hold his hand back, or massage his hair, or walk beside him. He's lucky when you accept his hug, or the pressing of foreheads, or whatever else he might feel like doing.

Ysabella seeks you because she cannot fandom being away when you're right there. In life, you must take advantage of the good when you can, and you are one bright side of it. Ysabella likes to loop her arm around yours and hang from you as she saunters into rooms or streets or wherever else you might take her. She likes to kiss you: your lips, your cheek, your fingers. Not out of desire, but because sometimes her heart fills with longing, and she has to release the energy somewhere. She'll squeeze you into her chest as if she could take you inside her ribcage and keep you there. Bella, unlike Hadrian, doesn't see touch as sacred, but she does see it as good. It feels good. Why deprive oneself of it?

Next up is The Pirate King.

(...)

What would a serious argument with the ROs be like?

The Pirate King. To his subjects, seeing their captain angry is bad news — they'll jump out of his way, avoid his gaze, and make themselves as small as humanly possible. To his enemies, seem him angry is often a death sentence. But he'll be smiling then, with bloodlust in his eyes.

To his friends, seeing him angry is rare. To his lover... almost unprecedented. If he feels the conversation is turning sour and the mood is slipping out of his control, The Pirate does one thing: he grabs you by the shoulders, gently pushes you aside, and strides out of the room. If he can, he'll take in a deep breath of ocean air, grab his pipe, and puff on it until his blood stops singing.

It won't take long, but he'll calm down, and then, The Pirate will seek you, ready to put the matter to rest. How it goes from there depends on you, but he'll do his best to settle everything and lay it out on the table. When he's tense, he speaks in shorter, curt sentences, wary of saying anything he might regret later.

Doesn't like to say sorry. Doesn't require you to say it either. He just doesn't want to see it happen again — from his side and yours. I think the real problem with The Pirate might arise if the issue is a reoccurring one.

When angry, Neia is scary. She gets extremely quiet. Almost unnaturally so. Her eyes will fix on yours, her face like a century-old rock, and her muscles will seem as if they turned to marble because she will not move. You even question if she breathes.

She won't answer you. You talk, you frown, you challenge her, you may even grab her shoulder and shake it. Neia will keep her mouth in a thin line.

When you almost give up, she'll crack her lips open. "Shut up," she'll growl and then grab you and smash her lips over yours.

No one argued with the head of the Inquisition. Neia hasn't had a proper debate outside of combat in years. She either slaughtered those who insulted her, or she pulled rank on them. Having you, of all people, argue with her...

She doesn't know what in hell's scorched lands she’s supposed to do. She does know that it gets her blood pumping and, honestly, if you've heard of angry make-up sex, this would be it. 😄 Unsurprisingly, she's not the best communicator. You'll have to approach her later, calm and try to get through to her.

Good luck, though.

Lance Silverthread. Much like Alain, there won't be a big head-to-head confrontation. The bard smiles and hides how he feels, and I think that will be the real crux of the issue: Lance hides how he feels. He can be hard to read and hard to get a beat of, and I can see it raising some issues between you.

It's difficult for him to be open and he'll shut you out without meaning to — it's been a part of his nature for so long; it's like asking Alessa to go dancing and frolicking in the rain. In an argument, Lance will be mostly quiet, appearing to be listening, but you can tell his mind is far away.

He won't avoid you physically, but he'll avoid you mentally. It’ll take some effort to break down those mental walls.

Rafael has no problem confronting you. He prefers it. To keep something in his chest is like suffocating. He needs to get it out, or he'll explode. He'll try not to raise his voice, but it's so easy to be swept by his emotions, especially when the bastard cares.

That's the biggest problem, I think: Rafael would feel hurt. He would hate it — hate it — to not be on the same page as you. Deep in a relationship, Rafael just wants to get it sorted. To fix it, as soon as possible. And because of that anxiousness, his methods may not be the best: he can be too pressing when you need space or too intense when you need to wind down. He refuses to go to bed angry, so he'd rather just have a big blown out and then make peace.

Early stages, however... you'll see it in the game a lot 😄. I think one of Rafael's love languages is arguing. You'll argue a lot. If he doesn't care, the bastard doesn't bother. When he cares, though... he'll go all the way. If you're a hothead like him, there's bound to be some explosions.

(...)

If the ROs could go anywhere to spend time with a romanced Romanus, where would it be? What would they want to do while there?

Alessa would like to take you to the shores of a private beach. Any beach, really, but preferably one where the sand is fine and shines in gold, and there are soft, gentle dunes where your feet can bury deep, and soak in the heat of the earth. Alessa would like for the shoreline to stretch in both directions until it lost sight, becoming a haze of blue where one couldn't tell if it was land or sea. And speaking of the sea... Alessa would want the beach to open to the bluest, wildest, most raw ocean that nature has to offer.

She'd want her nose to be assaulted and her tongue to sting with the crispiness of salt. She would want her skin whipped by tempestuous winds and her ears echoing with the defeating, primal, overwhelming roar of the sea. She'd want to see waves crash on the sand and feel their foam bathe her skin. She'd want you to take her cold hand, and walk side by side until your feet touched the chill-bone water and then your ankles, your legs, your waists, your bellies...

Alessa would stop by her chest, turn to you, and hug you close, hug you tight, hug you until she could think of nothing else but your lips crashing over hers as violently as the waves and your hands mingled with the sea and the salt and the wind and the fervent, unrestrained power of nature.

Alessa would like to lose herself, for just a moment, just a bit. In you. With you.

If Alain Theer could take you anywhere, he'd take you to the heavens. Again and again, and then, just for good measure, he'd take you there one more time. He'd want to make you forget your own name, where you came from, where you want to be. He'd like, if possible, you see, to have you fall on your pillow like potatoes rolling out of a bag that has been ripped a new hole, and then watch you with a smug grin and a proud chest as your eyes rolled back and you fell into a deep, dreamless, blissfully sleep.

Maybe while mumbling a tired sigh that would sound like his name. Yes, Alain would rather like that.

The good thing about this is that you don't even have to go further than the walls of his bedroom. And they're quite good walls if the nobleman has any say in it. The stones are sturdy, the hangings luxurious, the covers clean, the corners scrubbed, and there's even plush furniture spread around. Wine, if you'd like, servants to fetch fruit and nuts. Alain thinks you'd like it. There's no reason why you shouldn't.

But then... when the candlewax was all spent, and the fireplace was nothing but a sad little mound of forgotten ashes. When the first rays of sunlight would tentatively reach for the line of the horizon, then, if you were awake and willing, Alain wouldn't mind taking you to the gardens behind his castle. There are trees there with birdfeeders hanging from the branches, and... and Alain wouldn't mind sitting next to you on one of the wooden benches — maybe even, if he was feeling particularly sentimental, hold your fingers in his — and pay witness to the song of the morning birds. He wouldn't mind it. He wouldn't mind it at all.

(...)

The entire pieces are available on Patreon!

June Q&A — Part One

June Q&A — Part Two

#these got so big #I couldn't stop answering xD #Hadrian #Alessa #Alain #Ysabella #Neia #The Pirate King #Lance #Rafael #Patreon #The Golden Rose

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lyriumlullaby-ao3 · 7 months

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hello i’m back from the dead (sleeping) and it’s time to talk about

why Cullen won’t let anyone fix the hole in his ceiling 💖

someone has probably said this before but it wasn’t me, so here we go!

so remember that Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath grew up with three siblings, who he describes as being “very loud.” i see him as always being a very disciplined child, kind and warm and willing to let Mia take charge (because fighting her for it would have been useless), but a steadfast follower with a keen sense of justice and fairness, willing to voice his objections when he had any, and very fastidious about not breaking rules when Mia or Branson tried to stir up trouble. you know, that whole second child archetype. he was prone to a bit of escapism, running off to that pier on some lake which is definitely not in Crestwood, which tells us he likes having somewhere to escape to, somewhere to run if he gets overwhelmed.

skipping forward a bit, when he lived in Kirkwall, he had quite a bit of freedom to come and go physically, but to me at least it seems like he felt trapped by his duties under Meredith. he explicitly describes her keeping things from him, things she thought he’d disagree with as her second in command. he felt lied to, deceived, manipulated by her (bc he was), i think, even before the events at the end of DA2 that expose her for what she is. can you imagine that feeling? like he actually wants to do good, to treat the mages fairly and help keep them and everyone else safe (that’s why he signed up, after all), but he’s got this nasty, evil commanding officer who’s whispering in his ear, twisting all that good intention to do her malicious bidding. it must have felt like beating his head against a brick wall, like no matter what he did, his sincere desire to believe that other people are fundamentally good disappointed him. i always say that Meredith gave Cullen just enough rope to hang himself with.

jumping forward again, let’s talk about the Winter Palace. Cullen is very obviously uncomfortable there, and it makes sense why: he can’t leave, not without being extraordinarily rude, can’t get away from the people bothering and sexually harassing him, can’t get out of that jacket that is too damn tight. if you bring Cole with you, at one point in his ‘Investigate’ tree he comments that, “Cullen is afraid. They’re hurting him, following fear. He shouldn’t be here.”

all of this is just to illustrate: man’s got a Thing about feeling trapped, stuck, unable to fight back or defend himself or just flat out leave. and why does he have such a hard time with this?

because of that one time that Uldred blew up the Circle at Kinloch Hold in Ferelden. for reasons we don’t fully grasp, rather than being claimed by the demons or simply killed in the fighting, Cullen held out. he resisted demonic possession completely, somehow, and was instead trapped within that magical prison with no possibility of escape, probably for weeks. no escape from his hunger, thirst, or lyrium withdrawal, and no escape from the (probably Desire) demon(s) that tortured him with freedom if he’d only give in to those things he won’t quite allow himself to want.

so the fact that there’s a hole in his ceiling, even months into the repairs at Skyhold, when almost everything else has been fixed but a few, hard-to-access bits of masonry, is not lost on me. and sure, you could always blame it on lighting for the romance scene that takes place up there. but i like to think that it’s there because Cullen refuses to let them fix it. here’s why:

Cullen doesn’t like to stray far from his post. he likes that there’s a loft with a bed where he can pretend to sleep that’s not far from his desk, where he commands the lives of thousands of people. (i think at one point in Absolution, it’s revealed that at its height, the Inquisition was composed of ~10,000 troops, plus all the necessary support personnel.) the fate of the world is quite literally depending on his ability to do his job, and when the lyrium withdrawals make him feel like he must be losing his mind, he likes that he’s got an easy choice between resting (like he knows he probably should) or working (like he knows he really needs to), separated only by a little wooden ladder and a few planks that make up the floor.

he needs that little hole in the ceiling. if ever something happened at Skyhold, and it wasn’t safe or possible to leave through the three fucking doors on the lower level, he needs a back up plan, a way to get out from the top of that tower, or he’s every bit as trapped as he was at the Winter Palace, or by Meredith, or by Uldred and his demons, and he can’t be, not here, not with so many lives in his hands. not after Haven.

he needs it when he wakes up shouting, drenched in sweat, from another nightmare where he’s back there, trapped with demons who’ve murdered or enslaved your brothers and sisters and are trying to break you next, or pinned under Meredith’s thumb, doing things that he knows are wrong, he knows, but she’s his commanding officer and he trusts her, so how wrong can they really be? he needs it, first thing when he opens his eyes, to know he’s got an escape route, a backup plan. he’s safe.

and when he finally gives in to temptation, that thing he wants more than anything that he really shouldn’t let himself want, when the Inquisitor confesses that she wants to be with him when this is all over and he very dramatically sweeps aside everything on his desk, his whole life, shattering it all over the floor, he needs that little patch of sky to remind him it’s real. he’s free to leave whenever he needs to.

and that’s what allows him to stay.

#anyway this got long lmfao #but yeah. the reason why cullen still has a hole in his ceiling :)#cullen rutherford #dragon age #meta #dragon age meta #i’d like to personally rip meredith standard’s throat out with my TEETH but. that’s a different post #ask me about it sometime it’s a good ted talk #antares speaks #there’s like a little bit of #cullenmance #in here so i’ll tag that too :)#antares' meta

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dreamersbcll · 3 months

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OKAY SO let's suppose sam went to rehab in those years she wasn't with tara, what if years later tara also finds comfort in alcohol and drugs and there's a moment where she realises how big of a problem this is becoming and sam is the only one that understands her

“Stranger”

and it echoes when i breathe, till all you see is my ghost

——————————————————————————

Sandpaper.

That’s all Tara could taste the moment she woke up. She was lying flat on her back, her eyes fixated on the ceiling above her. Popcorn ceiling. Today, it was white, but last night, it was an array of colors— like a rainbow.

Tara felt more like the storm that came before the rainbow.

She couldn’t quite remember the night before or even the day before that. In fact, she wasn’t really sure whether or not she was alive right now.

All she could do was stare at the ceiling and count the white popcorn puffs. Her mouth was so dry— sandpaper. The pillow beneath her head was stiff. She moved her hand behind her head, only to find out that it was a crumpled t-shirt that supported her head.

Groaning, she propped herself up, blinking hard. Her vision was blurry and doubled, and her head swam with nausea. She was pretty sure five people were in the room with her, all in various sleeping positions on the floor and dirty mattress.

This wasn’t a home. It could’ve been one a long time ago. But now it was just a house with a dirty mattress and too many addicts sprawled across it.

Tara got up, swinging her legs onto the floor. If she leaned forward too far, she would crash into the person curled up next to the radiator. Fuck. Her head was pounding. Was there water anywhere? She surveyed the room, only seeing empty liquor bottles and various needles and joints littered across the floor.

Never mind that. She needed out. The walls were closing in, and she couldn’t breathe. The more she looked around, the more she realized she shouldn’t be here.

She shouldn’t fucking be here.

Pushing herself to her feet, she winced, her head pounding. Fuck.

Carefully, Tara made her way out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house. As she pushed through the front door, she squinted as the sun hit her face first, blinding her. She stumbled back, her hand covering the sun, blinking rapidly. Shit. Was it always that bright? How long has she missed the sunlight?

She averted her eyes, noticing her shoes were sprawled across the dirty welcome mat. She bent down quickly, ignoring the wave of nausea that ran through her body. Mind over matter. Mind over fucking matter.

After she put her shoes on, Tara perched herself on the porch railing, her legs dangling above the ground. She looked across the yard, watching cars passing by. Kids were walking with their mothers, people were walking their dogs, and runners were jogging. She was always surprised that the world kept turning even if it stopped for her.

Looking down, she dug her nails into her thighs. If she looked closely, she would see under the half-mooned crescents all of her sins that she tried to hide. There was a scar across her left thigh— she believes it was the time she attempted to heat the spoon with a faulty lighter. Or maybe it was when she tried to see how many rings she could make with one lit cigarette.

Time was a fickle thing. She can’t remember what she did last week, but she still remembers how excruciatingly visceral it was to watch Sam go. Nothing had been the same since then. Tara hadn’t been the same since then.

She knows she made terrible choices. The moment she held the joint to her lips, she knew it was over. Seven years ago, she watched Sam light her first joint on their porch, coughing and gagging as it worked its way through her lungs.

Sitting on the porch railing next to Sam, Tara remembered that she smiled as Sam coughed and damn near threw up. Good. That’s what Sam deserved for trying to disappear on Tara.

But Sam did anyway— and like every little sister, she followed her big sister down the same path.

Here she was again, on a porch rail of a home that she didn’t recognize or know, wishing she was someone else— feeling sorry for herself.

Yet this was all her fault. Tara knew the risks; she knew her fate. Fuck, she saw it with her own damn eyes. She remembers very well seeing Sam lose hair, come home in the early hours, and the bruises. God, she remembers the bruises. It was as if Sam didn’t care for herself or her well-being at all, as if she was asking for the pain.

Tara didn’t understand then. But she does now, and god damn it, was it fucking agony.

She always wanted to be just like Sam, and now she was. She was just like Sam.

Laughing a bit, Tara hiccuped, wincing as her ribs flared in pain. Fuck. She doesn’t remember where that pain came from. She doesn’t remember where any of this pain came from.

All this pain, all this pain that she was so goddamn afraid of, still a part of her. She tried to run, she tried to hide, but it found her. It found her on the sunniest days, the quietest of nights, the most tranquil mornings. No matter how far she ran or how many times she hid, it found her, and it infected her.

If someone opened up her chest, she was sure they would find nothing but decayed organs and bones broken to dust. There would be a heart that no longer beat- black and molding. Around her chest cavity would be littered needles, vials, and blood that no longer were needed.

She was so sick of being tired and so tired of being sick.

Without thinking, Tara pulled her phone out, wiping dust off the cracked screen. She mindlessly scrolled through her contacts for a moment, wondering who would respond, wondering who was there.

One name stood out to her— the one she hadn’t heard from in years.

What the hell? Tara couldn’t remember her own last name at this point.

Clicking on it, she pressed the speaker and let it ring. She expected it to ring for one, two, maybe even seven times.

She didn’t expect it to pick up on the first ring.

“Hello, this is Sam.”

Sam’s voice was clear, clearer than Tara had expected. She doesn’t remember the last time she heard Sam so level, so calm. It had been years. Fuck, it had been nearly a decade.

Her big sister was always her rock, love, and safe place. She hadn’t heard that voice so clear in so long. Sam was back.

But now Tara is gone.

Time was a fickle thing.

“Sam,” Tara breathed, her voice cracking. She answered. Her big sister really answered.

Her big sister paused, putting together the pieces. Sam spoke slowly, calmly, as if not to spook her little sister. “Tara? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Tara swallowed hard, looking down at her feet. She was missing a sock. Where was the lace on her left shoe? Has it always been like that? When did she last have a shoelace?

Fuck. She can’t remember. She just can’t remember.

Running a hand through her hair, Tara laughed a bit. This was all so fucked-up. She shouldn’t be here. She should be in the second period, learning about chemistry. Sam should be finishing college, planning to stay home for the summer, maybe stay for the rest of their lives. They would’ve been so happy.

They should’ve been happy.

“Sam, I, I fucked up. I fucked up really bad. I don’t know, fuck,” she choked out, her chest twisting.

Hot, shameful tears started to run down Tara’s face, coating her sinful lips and hands. She was so pathetic for becoming this monster. So fucking pathetic.

There were no words she could say, no phrase that could fix this. She couldn’t even find the words to say I Need Help.

But she tried anyway.

“Sammy,” she cried, ducking her head in shame.

It took all of five seconds for Sam to respond.

“I’m on my way. Send me your location, and don’t move. Got it?” Sam said levelly, her voice stoic.

How could Tara ever deny her big sister?

Tara let her tears flow freely, coughing a bit as she listened to her big sister get into her car and pull away. Wherever she was, whatever time of day it was, Sam would find her.

Sam would save Tara from herself.

Just like it was always supposed to be.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #addict tara carpenter #addiction #ao3 author #AU: there’s blood on my hands #flip the script baby. pain

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yellowkitkieran · 1 year

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Afterglow (Martin Odegaard)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Based loosely on ‘Afterglow’ by Taylor Swift. Requested by anonymous.

Babe, you need to see this. I'm sorry.

The second you read the message from your best friend, your heart stutters. A link comes through seconds later. Your hand shakes as you click on it and an article fills your screen. The article brings your world crashing down before you read anything past the headline. It shows your boyfriend Martin laughing with a pretty blonde woman, one hand on her hip and the other holding hers as they walk out of a nondescript building. By all accounts, it looks damning.

A fire lights in your belly, one born of jealousy rage. How dare he? After everything he'd promised you? Who does he think he is? A million questions swirl in your mind, most of them barbed and accusatory. You glance at the clock, silently thankful that Martin should be there any second and you don't have to stew on this for long.

Everything inside you wants to smash the photos in your flat until Martin's face is nowhere to be found. Three years down the drain for what was probably a fling. It isn't your fault you don't want to fuck as much as he does! That's probably all it was too; just sex, a replacement for what you couldn't always give him. And it stings to know he'd gone and found that somewhere else.

You hear his keys outside your front door. Mentally drawing up your walls, you remind yourself to stand strong as it swings open. "Søta? I'm- oh hey. I missed you today."

Where Martin's voice is soft, yours is hard as stone. "Oh, did you? Are you sure you aren't mistaking me for that blonde you're fucking on the side?"

All color drains from Martin's face in an instant, which tells you all you need to know. "What do you mean? I'm not- you're my one and only, you know that!"

And now he has the audacity to lie to your face. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're really gonna stand there and pretend like I don't know what's going on? I saw the article Martin!"

"What article?" Martin rakes a nervous hand through his hair, voice raw and confused but you don't care. "Søta I swear-"

"Don't call me that!" You shove at Martin's chest with all your strength, breaking the loose grip he has on your arms. You feel like a cornered stallion, bucking and kicking because your heart is beating so wildly you can't hear anything over its roar in your ears.

"The evidence is right here," you say, shoving your phone in his face. "Are you gonna tell me this photo is fake? Staged? 'Martin Ødegaard caught out and about with a new girl'? How do you think that makes me feel, that I have to find out about this through my friend? I'm an idiot!"

Martin made a promise that he would never, ever hurt you, and now he's done the worst possible thing you can do to another human. You trusted him with your fragile, taped together heart that you feared had been broken one too many times to be functional. But he had nurtured you, planted seeds of affection and helped you learn what real love looks like. Now he's ripped the rug out from under you and left you damaged.

Martin stands stoic in the face of your hurricane of emotion. His eyes are red rimmed but other than that, he shows nothing on his face. "It's not true," he whispers, pleading with you to believe him. "You have to know it's not real. You know I would never do something like that."

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, "I can't listen to your excuses Martin. Please go."

Martin's face crumbles like your heart. He reaches for you but you step away, unwilling to let his touch bend your perception of events in his favor. One touch and you'll be done- your confidence will dissolve and you'll fall into his arms and let him hurt you again and again.

"I love you."

Your hands fly up to your ears like a child, protecting yourself from his words. You squeeze your eyes shut. You try to block out the way you can still feel him standing a few feet from you. When you finally open them some minutes later, Martin is finally gone. A folded slip of white paper sits on the floor where his feet were, but you don't touch it.

The best thing you've ever had is gone, and you're afraid you'll never find something so sweet again.

*********

Søta can we please talk?

I miss you.

Please just let me explain, I swear it isn't what you think it is

You refuse to respond to a single one of Martin's messages. You've been ignoring them for days and they have begun to pile up in your inbox, and still you refuse to touch them. You remain firm in your position that he'd done you wrong, that damning photo splashed across tabloids everywhere. He'd embarrassed you- how hard was it to break up with someone before moving on?

There's one singular image of Martin that comes out of Arsenal's training all week. He isn't looking at the camera but his posture alone is enough to tell you how heavy his heart is. You hate seeing him like that, despite everything. It isn't like your love for him evaporated; you still feel the same for him and seeing him so blue hurts.

Something constricts in your chest and for the first time in six days, and after much internal debate, you allow yourself to search for his name on Instagram.

And it's then that you see her post explaining the story. It's a short reel and your curiosity gets the better of you- why would Martin choose her over you, the woman he claimed to love until the end of time?

"Hey guys, I just wanted to hop on and address those images of me and Martin Ødegaard that have been circulating online. First and foremost, nothing happened! I literally fell flat on my face seconds before that as we were coming out the door- he was helping me walk in those stupid tall heels that I shouldn't have been in the first place.

"I swear that's all it was- we both had photo shoots in the same building that day and he'd stopped to help me because I was struggling. I hadn't even met him before that day, and the only reason I know who he is, is thanks to everyone online!"

You lock your phone and set it on the table, completely stunned. Oh, you'd fucked up big time. Leaving your phone behind you grab your keys and your jacket, heart pounding as you rush out the door.

You have to see him. You have to set things right.

You make it to his house in record time. The weather must pick up and feed off your mood because just as you pull up the skies open up, rain pouring down from a suddenly cloudy sky.

"Fuck it, let's go," you mumble to yourself, hopelessly holding your hands over your head as you run for his door. You knock frantically, praying he's home. You hadn't stopped to check what day it is- was he at recovery? Training? Was it a match day-

The door swings open and you're greeted by an exhausted looking Norwegian. Martin drums up a half smile, shifting his weight to his right foot, "Hey."

Seeing him now, everything comes crashing down. You should've let him speak before just barreling ahead. It wasn't right for you to shut him out the way you had. He deserved a chance to defend himself and you'd been so terrified of being hurt that you'd jumped to conclusions.

You throw your arms around his neck and pull him out into the rain for a fierce hug, not caring that you're soaked to the bone. You bury your face in his shoulder as he instinctively soothes a hand over your back, unsure what was happening but hating seeing you upset all the same.

"Shh søta it's alright… what's happened? Do you want to come inside?"

You pull back to look up at him, threading your fingers in the hair on the back of his head. "No- Martin I'm so sorry for everything. I should've let you speak instead of just accusing you of something I knew you wouldn't ever do. And I know you probably can't forgive me but I'm gonna do my best to earn it as best I can."

Martin smiles and brushes your sopping hair off your forehead. The tenderness in the gesture carries the weight of a thousand words and instantly you feel lighter. "I was never upset with you, and there's nothing to forgive. I don't blame you for reacting the way you did. I'm just glad you're here now… but I am gonna take you inside before you get sick and I have to take care of you."

You smile, silently grateful for him and the fact that the rain hides your tears. "I love you Mar, I'm glad you were home. I didn't really have a plan, I just knew I needed to speak with you."

Martin takes your hand and leads you inside before he says anything else. "You know where the spare key is anyway. I wouldn't put it past you to wait here and ambush me when I finally did get home." Martin kneels in front of you, allowing you to hold his shoulder for balance while he takes off your wet shoes and sets them aside. Then he starts on your jeans, unbuttoning them and working them down your legs, though the wet denim provides a challenge, "also, let's just put this all behind us okay? I want to forget it ever happened."

Standing before him half dressed, you smile at the man in front of you. No one has ever knelt before you, and certainly no one has ever looked at you the way Martin is now. His face is open and vulnerable, a beautiful sight to behold as rainwater drips down his cheeks and off his chin to dot the carpet under your feet. You place your hand on his jaw and guide him to his feet, pulling him in for a wet kiss as his hands find your hips.

"Just say you love me," you murmur against him, his warmth warding off the cold from your soaked skin.

"I love you," he whispers into your mouth. "And I think we need a warm shower."

You pull back to search his expression, trying to determine his mood. "Together?" You ask tentatively, because you're not ready to be apart from him just yet.

Martin offers you a cheeky grin and grabs your bum, "together. Definitely together."

#martin odegaard #martin odegaard fic #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fantasy #footballer fic #footballer fanfiction #footballer fluff #footballer imagine #arsenal fc #alt timeline lover #jac writes

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jessicaloons · 4 months

Text

Chapter 25:

The world moves on, another day another drama…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Charles POV:

"I really love this one. I mean don’t get me wrong. I loved the older buildings, they have so much charme! But this right here? It has everything! It’s not too big! And this beautiful new kitchen that’s open to the living room, with enough space for a little dining area? Look at that balcony! And it has 2 bedrooms! One with an en suite bathroom and then the guest bathroom? It looks all so clean and timeless. I love it. It’s perfect." Lizzie was practically beaming when she stood behind the little kitchen island, looking over the space.

"Yeah, it’s a really nice one! It’s all new. Top security, underground parking garage with two spots, there is a dry cleaner in the building and also a restaurant." Riccardo said and Lizzie smiled even more.

"Was there a bathtub or a shower in the bathroom?" I asked and Lizzie looked at me for a moment.

"Oh umm- I don’t… oh damn! I can’t remember, let me go and check!" she walked away and Riccardo looked at me.

"I could’ve answered that as well…"

"I know… it’s just, this flat is over her budget, right?" I kept an eye on the hallway.

"It is, that’s why I don’t get why you insisted to have a look at it?"

"The only other two flats she liked were the one in that old building! No security, the windows looked like they would be easily to break in and that balcony? That was an invitation to climb up and get inside! And the other flat? No. No. No. No. No parking garage and the security was almost not there. But this one? It’s perfect! Everything! It has the open kitchen like she loves it and a beautiful view, high security and it’s only a ten minutes walk to my flat."

"All true, but it’s over her budget… she was really strict about that." Riccardo cocked an eyebrow.

"I know… but she doesn’t. So I’ll pay up the rest." I said and he shook his head.

"Forget it! I can’t do that! Charles there will be a contract and there needs to be the real price for it to be a binding and legal document! I can’t change that up!"

"Okay… what if I buy the flat? Under my name and everything. And then you sell it to her? Within her budget? You don’t have to state the name of the seller, you can just go by your agency?"

"Charles, I don’t like that… just be honest with her? Tell her why you want her to have this flat?"

"She wouldn’t take it! She’s stubborn! She would never ever accept money from me! And she won’t spend more, because that’s just how she is!" I sighed when I heard Lizzie closing the bathroom door.

"What if she finds out about it?" Riccardo looked at me and I shook my head.

"She won’t! And if she will, than it’s my fault. I’ll take the full blame. But please help me out here! I want her to have the perfect first flat! That is safe and nice and clean not far away from me. So please!" I pleaded right when Lizzie came back.

"The en suite has a huge shower and the guest bathroom has a normal sized shower and a big tub! It’s perfect!" seeing her smile like that made me look at Riccardo with pleading eyes "I can’t believe that this is in my budget? Compared to the other ones, this here is pure luxury?"

"Well the other two were under your budget, this one is slightly over, just a little. But we can make an offer a little under the listing price and then meet in the middle that would be you budget?" Riccardo said.

"Yes! You’re the pro here! If you think I have a chance then let’s do it!" Lizzie said excitedly and Riccardo nodded.

"Let me make a phone call!" he left the room and Lizzie walked around.

"A big and comfy couch here! A beautiful, maybe round, table there? Everything in creamy white beige colours? Tons of cushions and blankets on the couch. A fluffy rug?" she was so happy and excited, I couldn’t help but grab her by the waist, kissing her.

"I’m so happy, that you’re moving here." I whispered against her lips and she smiled at me, her cheeks slightly blushed.

"Me too, Charlie bear! You can come to me! I can come to you! I can go to the beach! I can go see your Mum! It will be amazing!" she snuggled into me and I smiled, right as my phone vibrated and Riccardo walked back in. Lizzie pulled away and looked at him, waiting eagerly for him to say something. I checked my phone and smiled.

"So?" Lizzie asked and Riccardo grinned at her.

"Congratulations on your new flat." he said and Lizzie hugged him fiercely before she turned around and looked at me.

"I’m really moving here, can you believe it?" she whispered and jumped right into my arms.

"I’m so happy for you!" I answered and kissed her cheek.

"I need to take some videos and pictures for mum and dad!" she ran off and Riccardo looked at me.

"I really hope you know what you’re doing." he said and I nodded.

"I am. This will stay between us. It’s our secret." I said determined.

"Yeah, a secret worth 1.4 million Euros."

"I love how much the Tifosi love you!" I said when we drove towards the gates of the hotel, hundreds of fans waiting for Charles "They even have a banner for you!"

"I feel so incredibly honoured and loved by them, it’s unbelievable." he said, a big smile on his face "Is it okay if we stop for a bit? I want to take some pictures and sign stuff."

"Sure! That’s not even a question!" I opened my window and the car was surrounded by Tifosi in an instant, all screaming for Charles.

I tried to grab as much stuff as possible they were shoving my way, patiently handing it over to Charles to sign it and then giving it back to the fans outside the car. It was getting louder with any second and it seemed like the security guys slightly lost control over the crowd. The mood dropped a little, the shouting turned more hysterical. I could hear some people shouting my name, but the way it sounded, they weren’t saying nice things. Charles must’ve heard it too, he tried to calm down the crowd, that started calling me all sorts of names. He got angry and turned to me, his eyes widened in shock and before I could react or ask what was going on I felt something hitting me straight across the face. Charles began to scream, turning the windows up, honking and revving the engine. The security guards were able to part the crowd of people and Charles drove into the courtyard of the hotel. My ears were ringing. And my face stung.

"Cara mia? Look at me? Hey!" Charles voice a muffled whisper in the back of my head "Let’s get out of here. Come on."

What happened next, I didn’t know. I looked around, saw how Charles rushed through the room, yelling at his phone, then a guy in a dark blue suit. All in Italian. My mind wasn’t able to translate it.

"Here, cara mia." he kneeled down in front of me, gently putting an ice pack on my cheek and I flinched. The coldness on my burning skin began to prickle "Can you please say something?"

"Ouch." I breathed out.

"Other than that?" he whispered, cupping my other cheek.

"Did someone slap me?" I asked, still not fully realising what had happened.

"I’m so sorry, Lizzie. I didn’t see it coming! I would’ve stopped them, I swear!"

"Why are you apologising? You didn’t slap me, did you?"

"No! Of course not! But still!"

"They were mad at me, because of Carlos penalty, no?"

"I don’t care. They’re idiots! We leave the hotel! We go to yours." he mumbled and got up.

"No! Charles you can’t leave! This is the hotel you always stay here! All of Ferrari!" I was panicking.

"I don’t care! They hit you! What they were saying about you! We’re leaving. I don’t want you near them."

"Charles only one of them slapped me! Don’t be mad at all of them because one messed up! You know how much they love you! They adore you! I’ll go. I’ll stay at my hotel! It’s fine!" I tried to play it down, tried to convince him to stay.

"No. I don’t leave you alone. Not after that!" he pulled out his phone again and called someone. I got up and looked in the mirror. A faint red hand print on my cheek, nothing too bad, but still visible. Still a little painful. Tear stained face. I walked over to a window and looked outside. Police and security trying to keep the crowd at bay, one guy standing at the side, police officers speaking to him, while others around kept yelling at him.

"Our car is here, come on cara mia." Charles took my hand in his and pulled me away "Keep that ice pack on your cheek, please. I don’t want you to be in pain."

"I’m fine." I mumbled, following him out of the room, down a long hallway.

"Signore Leclerc! Signorina Doetterer! We are so sorry!" the guy from earlier apologised and opened up the doors for us, Joris waiting in front of a SUV. As soon as he saw me he hurried to my side.

"Who did that?" he carefully pulled my hand away to see my cheek "Fucking bastard, I’ll kill him."

"Get in line." Charles seethed and I groaned.

"It was a slap! Nothing more! You should stay here! Try to calm your fans down and the…" I rolled my eyes but Charles interrupted me.

"They are no fan of mine if they hurt you! Carlos’ penalty was his own fault! He turned fully into you! Punishing him was the only right thing to do! And if they don’t understand that, then I don’t care."

"Let’s go." Joris grabbed the suitcases from the hotel employees and packed them into the trunk, then he opened the back door and Charles gently pushed me inside, before climbing in behind me.

The drive to my hotel was quiet, only 20 or maybe 25 fans waiting for any drivers to arrive. They were screaming for Charles and I just walked straight inside with Joris.

"You need to talk to him Joris. He needs to go back to his hotel! The Ferrari drivers always stay there! I don’t want him to be in any trouble." I whispered but Joris shook his head.

"They crossed a line today, Lizzie. It is one thing writing all that disgusting bullshit under each and every post of you or about you, calling you all sorts of names at the track, but today they assaulted you! Nothing I could say would change his mind… and I honestly don’t want to." Joris shook his head, when the elevator door opened, Julie and JK coming out, looking worried at me.

"It’s all over social media! What happened? You got slapped by a fan?" Julie looked at me with wide eyes and when I lowered the ice pack she gasped "Does it hurt? Who did that? What happened?"

"We were in the car, I handed Charles some stuff to sign from his fans when the mood changed, people were getting mad about Carlos penalty and then someone slapped me. Charles got us inside the courtyard and then he insisted on leaving the hotel, staying here." I put the ice pack back and winced a little.

"And I stand by my word." Charles appeared next to us "We stay here. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go back to my hotel. But not tonight. Tonight I can’t see them."

"Joris? You can stay here as well. The rooms for Lizzie’s family are already booked but they will only arrive on Friday." Julie said and Joris nodded.

"Yeah might be better, when I come back alone they won’t stop asking me where Charles is… and I don’t want to be there right now." he said.

"Okay guys! One guy did something bad! Not all of them are bad then, okay?" I said and Charles shook his head but Joris answered.

"I don’t give a fuck. Tonight they all suck. Period."

"I have nothing else to add." Charles said and I sighed, following them into the elevator and then into my hotel room.

"You have a mail with some appointments tomorrow. Rest up now and cool your cheek!" Julie waved goodbye and left.

"Are you okay?" JK asked and I nodded.

"Yeah. I’m fine." I said and he squeezed my shoulder, following Julie.

"I leave you two as well. Good night guys." Joris hugged Charles and whispered something to him, then he hugged me "Keep the ice pack on."

"I will. Thanks for picking us up…" I kissed his cheek and he left.

"I’m exhausted." I mumbled and opened up my suitcase "I’ll take a shower. Care to join in?"

"I’m coming in a minute." Charles said, lifting my chin up to look at my cheek. He inhaled sharply. A new wave of anger making him tremble "I’m so sorry that this happened, cara mia."

"It wasn’t your fault! I’m fine. It’s just a little red, it doesn’t even hurt. I’m really okay!" I reassured him. He nodded a little and kissed my forehead.

After the shower I applied some cooling gel on my cheek and left the bathroom.

"I thought you would join me?" I asked while plopping down next to Charles who was furiously typing away on his phone "What are you doing?"

"I won’t accept it. I don’t care if they treat me like shit. But not you. Especially not when you did nothing wrong! I certainly won’t stay silent if they resort to violence!" he was furious.

"Charles, stop. Please." I put my hand on his phone, cupping his cheek "I understand that you’re mad, I am as well. But whatever you’re feeling right now, whatever you’re writing right now, it won’t change the fact that some idiot slapped me. But you know what it will change? Your relationship with the Tifosi. They love you. They adore you! They don’t call you Il Predestinato for no reason! But when you let all your anger and frustration now out, it will end only in them being hurt and you being hurt. It’s not worth it. I’m fine. I survived way worse than a little slap. Please don’t post it."

"Cara mia, I can’t let them think that it’s okay, treating you like that! Maybe it was only one guy who slapped you, but there were at least a dozen more calling you names! I won’t accept this kind of behaviour!" he gently pulled his phone away and looked over what he wanted to post.

"Do you remember the first time we were here? Watching the race back in 2011? Standing in between all of the Tifosi? How amazing it felt? And when we were waiting after the race outside for the car and that elderly Tifoso bumped into you and smiled? Saying he recognises your face? That he knows you will bring back Ferrari to its old glory? It was weird, we were only in karting, no one knew us, but he said he knows you will do it! That was the night you began to focus on one thing only. Making it into F1 and Ferrari. From that day on you loved the team unconditionally. But not just the team… the fans, the Tifosi. Don’t let one guy ruin that. Don’t let one stupid idiot ruin this connection. Please, Charles." I pleaded and he sighed, closing his eyes, leaning his head back against the headboard. Silence falling over us. After a while Charles began to chuckle, throwing his phone away, turning to look at me.

"I still think he thought I was Jules…"

"He definitely thought so!" I laughed and Charles pinched my side "Can you please delete whatever you posted?"

"I already did. Right when I posted it, I deleted it again… you were right. You always are." he pulled me into his lap, hugging me tight to his body, nuzzling his face into my hair.

"I’m glad that you’re finally admitting it."

"Lizzie, how are you? We all saw the videos. Can you explain us what happened?"

"Umm, I honestly don’t know myself? It all happened so fast. Charles and I arrived at his hotel. We wanted to go out for dinner with some friends, that’s why he didn’t drop me off at my hotel first. There were a lot of Tifosi and I handed Charles stuff to sign, then there was some screaming and shouting and then it already happened." I explained and Nathalie sighed.

"We’ve heard from several sources that some fans where mad because of Carlos penalty last weekend, dropping him right outside the points.?"

"I don’t know. Maybe it was because of that."

"Your team filed a complain after the race."

"Yeah, which they had every right to, considering the fact that almost the entire side of my car had to be replaced, most importantly we needed a new PU, which means I will serve a 10-place grid penalty! Not even talking about the big cut in our budget."

"So you think the penalty is justified?"

"The complaint was justified. What the FIA decides is out of my hands."

"Thank you Lizzie!"

I smiled at her and walked away. My cheek still prickling a little.

"You did good out there. You didn’t throw any shade at Carlos or the Tifosi." Julie said and I nodded slowly.

"Wouldn’t help anyone." I shrugged and she patted my arm "I gotta go to Charles, he has my phone."

"Alright, see you later on!" she walked off and I sighed a little.

Going to Ferrari wasn’t really something I wanted to do after yesterday, but I had to.

I checked my make-up in the reflection of a window, nothing visible, and took a deep breath. I braced myself for the worst, but not even in my darkest nightmares I would’ve expected what happened next.

Charles POV:

I shook the hands of a dozen of men, thanked them for their support of Ferrari and left with Mia.

"How’s Lizzie?" she asked and I sighed.

"She says she’s fine? But I don’t know if I believe her, she was really shocked. I mean I was too, but I didn’t got slapped…"

"She’s tougher than she looks, you know that. Just show her that you’re there for her, no matter what, that’s all you can do."

"Yeah, I hope you’re right." I mumbled as we rounded the corner and I saw Lizzie talking to a girl, her back was turned to us but the way Lizzie stood there, body all tense, shoulders strained, clenched jaw, eyes almost dead and her face paler than a sheet of white paper, I didn’t need to see the girls face to know who it was. And as Lizzie slightly began to tremble I almost sprinted towards her. When she saw me she shook her head and walked away.

"Lizzie! Wait!" I shouted when someone grabbed my arm.

"Charles. Long time no see. You can let her go, she’s a big girl, she can handle herself for a couple of minutes without her knight in shining armour." her voice made my hairs stand up, my insides churning.

"What did you say to her?" I pressed out through clenched teeth and turned around, looking straight at her, a viscous smile on her face.

"I just told her that she looks good, maybe a little less weight would do her good but apart from that. Don’t worry I didn’t hurt your little girlfriend, I mean she already got slapped in the face yesterday…" she sneered.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, trying my best not to strangle her.

"Oh, you didn’t know? I was invited! By Ferrari!" the triumphant smile on her face made rage surging through my body.

"What?"

"Oh Camille! Here you are! I see you found Charles! Wonderful! Now let’s all get inside to take some pictures!" Sylvia looked at me, a smug smile on her lips.

"No."

"No? What do you mean with no?" Sylvia chuckled a little.

"I mean that I won’t take any pictures with her." my voice was trembling with anger.

"Charles, don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t about you. Be mature about this, please. We have some important guests with us and they want to meet the drivers. Both of them." she rolled her eyes while Camille’s smile only got bigger.

"I’ll meet them. But without her. What is she even doing here?"

"Ah Camille! Here you are!" a voice from behind me said and Camille walked past me "I see you found the other driver."

"I told you that Charles and I know each other from back home in Monaco, no?" her tone of voice now sickeningly sweet.

"Oh yes, you told me all about that. Nice to meet you, Charles." the guy extended his hand and I shook it perplexed. He squeezed my hand tight, as if he was trying to intimidate me, but I didn’t even flinch.

"And you are?" I asked him, not really interested in his answer.

"Charles, this is Santiago Álvarez, son of José Álvarez, who’s the CEO of Santander. You see we have important guests today." Sylvia chimed in and I looked between her and Álvarez.

"Yeah. Very important." I said and took my phone out "Let me make a phone call and then I’ll be inside."

Sylvia nodded with pressed lips and she guided Camille and Álvarez inside.

"Joris? Where are you?"

"Turn around?" he walked up to me, looking worried "What’s going on. You look like you saw a ghost that you want to strangle?"

"You need to look after Lizzie…"

"What happened?"

"Camille is here and she…"

"WHAT?"

"She’s here with her new boyfriend, I think, and he’s the son of the CEO of Santander! I have to play now my part… but Camille talked to Lizzie, when I arrived! You know that evil witch! Lizzie looked… whatever Camille said, she was hurt and she ran away… please find her and take care of her, okay?"

"Alright. But keep that snake away as far as possible from Lizzie!"

"I promise, if she ever comes close to Lizzie again I will…"

"I know. But don’t. Please. Go now. I’ll find Lizzie!" he spurted away and I took one last deep breath, before following Sylvia back inside. Let’s get this over with.

"Lizzie?" I looked up, blinking the tears away "Come here." Joris pulled me into a tight hug and gently stroked my back.

"Camille is here…" I whispered and he nodded.

"I know. All the plants in the Ferrari hospitality died, that was the first omen that she must be around…"

"Yeah? And what was the second one?" I chuckled a little.

"Charles being this close to commit a crime."

"You stopped him before he could do anything stupid right?" I pulled away a little and Joris rolled his eyes.

"Of course! I can’t have my best friend going to jail for something that I wanted to do!"

"Joris!"

"What?" he laughed a little and then wiped away some tears from my cheeks "She doesn’t deserve a single one of your tears, okay?"

"Okay." I nodded slowly, taking a deep breath "How did you find me anyway?"

"You and Charles always were here back in F3 and F2, and also the last years…" he shrugged his shoulders and pulled me with him "Let’s go back. Let’s show her that she can’t break you."

But she did. Again. As much as I hated it. Seeing her being coddled by Sylvia, smiling as if all of Ferrari was here to tend to all her wishes, her high pitched laughter, her words towards me. It brought back all the memories. Everything I worked hard against over the past 1.5 years.

"Hey! Get out of your head!" Joris squeezed my shoulder and I nodded "You know that nothing that she has ever said to you, or will ever say to you is right? She was jealous of you. Always. Even when we were still in school and Charles was around in between races he always talked about you. She always tried to make him stop and give her attention but he didn’t."

"Until he did. He was her boyfriend first." I replied, my voice sounded more hurt than planned.

"Lizzie…" he began but I shook my head.

"I didn’t meant it like that. It’s okay. I know the reasons… it’s just- she knows what to say to push my buttons. But it’s okay. I’m okay. I think with what happened yesterday and seeing her here now- it’s a little too much all at once. But I’m fine." I said and he nodded slowly.

"But you know that it would be okay if it’s not? You don’t have to play pretend. It’s okay…" Joris stopped and looked at me.

"I know! Really! I’m fine." I smiled at him.

"Okay." he sighed and we walked the rest to the Audi hospitality in silence.

"Lizzie! There you are! I called you like a million times! We’re waiting for you!" Julie said and I looked at her, slightly confused, right as I saw Rita waving at me from inside.

"Oh shit! I totally forgot about that! Fuck! I’m so sorry! Charles still has my phone!"

"You go to your meeting, I’ll go and get your phone!" Joris hugged me.

"Thank you. Really!" I whispered and he only smiled while walking away "Okay, let’s go." I followed Julie inside.

"Lizzie! Good to see you! How are you?" Rita hugged me and gently tilted my head to the side, looking at my cheek "Let me sue that asshole."

"It’s okay, Rita, really! Thank you for coming. I know you’re busy. But this is a bit too big for me to attend alone." I said nervously and she waved me off.

"Everything for you, darling. Shall we?" she turned to Julie and we followed her to one of the meeting rooms.

"Lizzie, Rita, these are James Gay-Rees and Paul Martin, executive producers, Sophie Todd, the showrunner and Mike Osborn, representative of Netflix." Julie introduced us and I shook their hands.

"It’s so great to finally meet you in person, Lizzie! Thank you for meeting us." Sophie said as we all sat down and I smiled at her.

"Thank you for being interested in- me? I guess?" I chuckled nervously and they all laughed a little.

"How could we not? You’re defying all odds, being one of the top drivers this season!" Paul sounded impressed and I felt myself blush a little.

"We worked on a concept, here’s a presentation to show you exactly what we’re hoping to do, if you agree." Sophie said and pushed a button on a little remote in her hand. I looked at the screen, excited what they had in mind.

"Three or five part mini series. Three parts with 60-70 minutes each or five parts with 40-50 minutes each. We already filmed a little with you throughout the season. We would now focus a little more on you and your team." Paul said as soon as the presentation was over, handing me a document where all points were listed.

"Of course we would love to film a little bit of your life apart from the track as well, just to see who the person Lizzie is outside of the race suit. See your daily routines. Maybe visiting the places you used to spent most of your time when you were younger. Of course we would love to talk with your family and friends about you. Other drivers who know you. Of course Charles, as he is your best friend, Pierre and maybe Max because you drove against them for quite some time? Valtteri as he is your team mate, Sebastian as he’s your mentor? Maybe even some other big names of F1." Mike said and I looked up.

"My family and friends? As in interviews?" I asked and he nodded.

"Yeah we would love some interviews, where they tell us all about you that we think the world needs to know. But we also would love to film some parts of your private life. How you spent your free time at home with your family and friends."

"Max isn’t really a fan of yours…"

"We reached an agreement with Max, on how we continue to work with him." Sophie stated and I looked at her "Don’t worry. It’s all good."

"We know that a lot of your recovery was filmed, that would be footage we would love to use as well, maybe your family has some old tapes of your early days in karting? Everything that shows the world the person Lizzie." Mike said and I looked at the document in my hand.

"Will I have full control over what will be shown? Like when you film something and I actually don’t want it to be seen, will you edit it out?" I asked and he looked at his team.

"You have the full control of what will be shown. The Final Cut will be shown to you and you decide if it’s ready or needs some change." he answered and I looked at Rita.

"We want that written in the contract. We also want to have 24 hours time to decide. Lizzie wants to talk to her family and friends first." she stated and Mike nodded.

"We prepare the contracts and send them you, you make any additional changes and sent it back. We’ll meet tomorrow after FP2 to finalise everything."

"Okay. But there is one more thing. The compensation. This isn’t like Drive to Survive where you film 90% on track or studio or within team facilities. The drivers only have to film a little interview each individually. It’s not taking away from their time. But this is more. This is a huge invasion of Lizzie’s private life, it’s way more exposure than anything before in DTS." Rita said and Mike looked again at his team.

"250.000 Euro per episode."

"You mean 250.000 for the shorter episodes and how much for the longer ones?"

"350.000 Euro per episode when it’s a three part series; 250.000 Euro per episode when it’s the five part series."

"Alright. Sounds fair. What would you prefer? Just for us to know which way you lean towards?"

"Five parts with 40 minutes each."

"Noted."

"Regardless of the decision, we would film with our second crew Lizzie and her team this weekend, to get a lot of footage. If that’s okay?" Mike asked and I nodded "Deal for now?"

"Yes, deal for now." I shook his hand and Rita and I got up, shaking hands with the rest of the team, who then left the room.

"Well, I guess that was not too bad!" Julie said and Rita nodded.

"Yes, it really wasn’t. If it’s written down in the contract that you have the full control of the content? It couldn’t get any better than this." she said and I sighed.

"It’s still a big thing. I’ve never been this exposed. I have to talk to my family and my friends first if they would be okay with it! And Charles! We already have to be so freaking careful around the paddock! But with Netflix being around? We have to take care even inside our hospitalities."

"Or you could tell them about Charles but say that you want to keep it hidden." Julia suggested.

"With NDA’s they can’t say anything and with you deciding what’s to make the Final Cut? I guess it’s possible." Rita said "Think about it, okay? As soon as I have the contracts I work them through and then we have a talk." she hugged me and Julie and left.

"So, you have a lot of thinking to do. We’re done for today, you can leave." Julie hugged me and I nodded, right as JK came, handing me my phone.

"Here you go."

"Thanks. Have you talked to Joris? Or Charles?" I asked him.

"Joris. He said Charles will be ready in an hour. Which was a couple of minutes ago. Do you wanna wait or go?"

"Go. I’ll text him to stay at his hotel tonight. It will be better for him and Ferrari, the Tifosi." I mumbled and grabbed my bag.

My head was full. Too full. Yesterday. Camille. Netflix. It was too much. My head started to throb and I wanted nothing more than crawl under the blankets and sleep. But I couldn’t. I had to talk to my family, my friends, first. And then I had to do some thinking myself.

"The question is, if you want to do it." Dad said and I sighed.

"Yes? No? I don’t know! It’s just… god I don’t want to be this exposed? But on the other hand, I am already! Just that this time I would be in control of the narrative!"

"Then it’s a yes. I can do an interview or two. And if they want to film us hanging out and doing whatever we’re doing a couple of times? So be it." Mum said and Sissy nodded.

"Are we going to be famous?" Liam asked excitedly.

"Will people start screaming when they see us?" Benji asked.

"I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not?" I laughed, stretching out on the bed.

"We support you. And if you have the last word what will be shown and what not? I’m not even worried." Sissy said and I had to agree.

"Yeah. I think it could be something good."

"I think it could be something amazing! Do it!" Marcus smiled and I sat up.

"What did the rest of the gang say?" Dad asked and I laughed a little.

"Daniel said he can’t wait to be famous. Shima said she wants to see all the footage of her to make sure she looks good in it. Andrea said as long as I want to do it and Julia said she is on my side no matter what."

"Then it’s decided. You get your own Netflix show." Sissy said and they all started clapping.

"We’re so proud of you!" Mum choked out and I groaned.

"Mum! It’s just a documentary! Nothing big! Stop crying!"

"I’m not crying!" she sniffled a little and I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, whatever! I gotta go now. I need to take a shower and then go to bed."

"Alright! Good night, sweetheart! We see you tomorrow!" Mum said and I nodded, before I ended the call.

I was just about to take a shower when someone knocked on my door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Charles as he walked in.

"I wanted to see you?" he looked at me intently "I wanted to see if you’re okay."

"I’m fine. You didn’t have to come here. A text would’ve been sufficient, you know?"

"But I can’t look at you through a text." he stepped closer, grabbing my waist "Please talk to me. I know that you’re not fine. I saw the look on your face after she talked to you."

"What do you want me to say?" I sighed and Charles leaned his forehead against mine.

"I want you to be honest. I want you to tell me how you feel. I don’t want you to say you’re fine when you’re quiet obviously aren’t." he whispered and I took a deep breath.

"I felt bad after seeing her, after what she said. But Joris helped me. Really." I replied.

"No. There’s something going on. I can tell…"

"Yeah… there is something going on… I had a meeting with Netflix today." I said slowly and Charles pulled away a little.

"And?" he sounded exited and I led him to the sofa, sitting down, telling him everything.

"So, they all want me to do it…" I ended and waited for Charles’ reaction.

"At the end of the day it’s your decision, Lizzie. But I think it’s a good thing. There are so many false narratives around about you. One more abstruse than the other. All the things people are saying and writing about you? You could set the record straight. You could show the world who you are. What you had to go through to be where you are today. I think it would be amazing." he said and grabbed my hands, stopping me to nervously fiddle with them.

"But there would be a lot of cameras around me…" I looked at him.

"I guess we can handle some more." he shrugged.

"Rita said I could tell them about us, but make it clear that it’s nothing I want to be displayed… she said we could make them sign NDA’s…"

"Whatever you decide, I’m 100% behind you." he kissed my knuckles.

"I hate it sometimes that you’re this perfect." I leaned against him.

"You know now what your family thinks, what your friends think, what I think… but what do you think? That’s the most important thing…"

"I think I want to do it. Tell the world my side of the story." I almost whispered it.

"Then it’s decided?" Charles tilted my head up, looking at me.

"It’s decided." I kissed him.

Charles POV:

I sat alone on the balcony, listening to the Tifosi singing songs for me. What usually would put a big smile on my face, made me feel nothing today. Not after yesterday. Not after today. I was mad. At myself. At the Tifosi. At Camille. But mostly myself. Seeing her talking to Lizzie. Seeing how Lizzie paled in an instant, started trembling, leaving and then not eating anything the entire day. My blood was boiling. Pure rage surging through my body.

"Charles?" Joris stepped out on the balcony, sitting down next to me "Are you okay?"

"I shouldn’t have left her." I sighed.

"Then why did you?" he asked carefully.

"Because she wanted me to leave. Sometimes she’s so stubborn and although I could clearly see that there was a lot going on in her head, I didn’t want to argue with her. She was already exhausted and tired. I didn’t want to add to that."

"I don’t know… maybe it would do her some good to let it all out, even if it’s in an argument."

"Yeah maybe, but you know her! She would feel bad for days if she would’ve let it all out on me and then she’s even more in her head! This is all so fucking frustrating! Yesterday was bad, yeah. But today? Camille? What the actual fuck? I don’t want her near Lizzie ever again. And I don’t want to be near her as well, she makes my blood boil. I can’t believe that I really tried it with her… what was I thinking?"

"I think you weren’t thinking at all. You were reacting. Trying something that was bound to fail, but she’s gone now. You and Lizzie are happy now, that’s all that matters!" Joris tried to calm me down but the guilt I felt since knowing why Lizzie had left so abruptly two years ago, why she had the accident, was nagging at me. Especially after today.

"It’s just… god wouldn’t I start this shit with Camille…" I began but Joris scoffed.

"Charles, you can’t change what Camille did, it’s in the pa.."

"You don’t get it, Joris!" I groaned and leaned back, exhaustion and fatigue taking slightly over "Would I just believe you guys and tell Lizzie that I loved her the moment I felt it the first time? None of this would’ve happened! And if not that, then at least I should’ve noticed how Camille was treating Lizzie and…"

"Then you have to blame all of us as well! What? You want to carry that fault alone? Not gonna happen! We knew how Camille was treating her! Maybe not everything. But we knew at least enough to tell that she’s hurting Lizzie! I knew it for sure! But I kept my mouth shut because Lizzie wanted it like that! So blame me! And if we’re on it, blame Lizzie! Yes! Stop looking at me like that! Why didn’t she tell you earlier that she loved you? Why didn’t she tell you how Camille treated her? Why didn’t she let us tell you the truth? You see? It’s a fucking circle! And the only person to blame is the person who said and did these malicious things! And that’s Camille. You get it? It was her! Not you. Not Lizzie. Not the rest of us. Her. She decided to be an insufferable, horrible bitch. She alone is to blame. And if you don’t get that into your stupid brain. Then I guess I’ll blame myself as well now for everything that has happened… so what is it? Are we sitting here now, should I get us some booze and we get drunk because we both fucked up and are the ones to blame? Or are you accepting that it’s not your fucking fault? And let it be?"

I swallowed hard and looked up in the sky. Thinking about Joris' words. Then I sighed and leaned back in the chair.

"You’re right. It’s in the past…" I said after a while.

"I’m always right." Joris chuckled.

"Oh shut up." I said but smiled at him "Thank you. Really."

"Charlie!" I heard Liam before I could see him and turned around, right as he hugged my legs.

"Hey Bubba!" I bent down, hoisting him up "Where is the rest?" I looked around but couldn’t see anyone "Liam? Did you run away?"

"Technically, yes, I was running… but I said I would go to you." he had a mischievous smirk on his face, that reminded me all too well of Lizzie’s.

"And you said to who that you would come to me?" I asked and he shrugged a little.

"Everyone? I screamed I go to Charles and then I ran…" he looked down and I chuckled, walking to the Audi hospitality.

"And did they hear it? Did they say it’s okay?"

"Umm- well Mummy’s not here, she left a little earlier. Oma was talking with Rita, Lizzie and Pops were talking with the Netflix people." he admitted meekly and I sighed a little.

"Bubba we talked about this before! You can’t just run away!" I looked at his big blue eyes and he nodded.

"I just wanted to see you. You were the best today! You will win on Sunday! I just know it!" he sounded very sure of himself.

"Yeah? You think so?"

"Absolutely! But don’t tell Lizzie…" he almost whispered the last part.

"Don’t tell Lizzie what?" speak of the devil, Lizzie came right out the door, looking at us, both at a loss of words "So? Bubba? What should Charlie not tell me?"

"That he umm- well he ran away again! We wanted to sneak him back in here, pretend like it didn’t happen… but don’t worry! I already told him what he did was wrong!" I said quickly and Liam nodded.

"Well, Liam, Charlie is right! You’re not supposed to run away!" she said and he looked at me a little relieved "Even if you just want to run to Sundays race winner…"

Liam gasped and I had to stop myself from laughing at how Lizzie pretended to be hurt.

"Nooo! Lizzie I didn’t mean it like that!" Liam tried to wriggle out of my arms but I held him closer.

"Hey! So you don’t think I win?" I asked him and his head snapped around.

"Of course you will!" I could clearly see that he was getting upset and began to stroke his back, looking at Lizzie who understood immediately.

"Hey Bubba, we’re just joking!" she cooed and gently stroke his cheek "It’s all good!"

"Yeah, we were just messing with you a little, sorry Liam." I kissed his cheek and he took a deep breath.

"So, you’re not mad at me?" he asked quietly and we both shook our heads.

"But we have to talk about you running away… not cool!" Lizzie tickled him a little and he began to giggle.

"I’ll never run away again! I promise!" he said breathlessly.

"Good!" Lizzie and I said in unison and I put him down.

"I gotta go now, I see you guys later at dinner!" I ruffled Liams hair and side hugged Lizzie, squeezing her waist.

As I walked back I noticed how the people around me were whispering, most of them pointing at their phones and I pulled mine out. I opened Instagram and saw a breaking news post from F1, saying that Netflix just announced a documentary series about Lizzie. I liked the post and looked for Netflix. When I saw the post I smiled proudly, liking it. I typed in a comment, knowing that Lizzie would love it. Then I shared the post. Everyone should see how excited I was about it.

To say it was everywhere, was an understatement. From the moment I entered the paddock on Saturday morning everyone was staring at me, whispering behind my back. I heard a lot of positive things. But also a lot of negative things. Knowing that I had a 10-place grid penalty, after I needed a new PU thanks to Carlos’ little nudge last weekend, the pressure was on. I had to give 200% at today’s qualifying. Seeing how fast the RedBulls but especially Charles were yesterday, I knew that there was no room for mistakes today.

"Nervous?" Paul asked as I fiddled with my bottle in the back of the garage and I looked up.

"No?"

"You seem a little… tense? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I’m fine."

"Let’s go. Warm up." JK nudged my shoulder and I nodded, following him out the back "This dude really doesn’t give up."

"JK he’s just nice!" I groaned.

"Okay. If you say so."

"I say so."

"Good."

"Good. Can we warm up now?"

"Yes, grumpy cat." he held out his hands with two balls.

"Don’t call me that." I prepared to catch the balls.

"But you are a grumpy cat today." he dropped them, I only caught one.

We did it a couple of times but my head was just not in the game.

"I will fuck up this quali." I mumbled and JK put the balls away.

"What’s going on?" he looked at me intently and I sighed.

"The Netflix thing? I’m not so sure anymore if it was a good idea… did you read the comments underneath the post? All the F1 fan accounts shared their opinion about it and guess what… they now hate me even more."

I expected that some people wouldn’t be happy with my decision. And I honestly thought that by now I was okay with ignoring the sheer outpour of hate towards me. But I wasn’t. It was too much, again. This weekend started out the worst way possible, with lots of people saying they would’ve slapped me harder and that I just got what I deserved. Then Camille showing up, looking at me with utter disgust whenever she saw me and breathed out nasty comments. And now another episode of the internet hates me. It was just all too much.

"Hey, Liz?" JK squeezed my shoulder and I blinked confused.

"What?"

"You spaced out a little. What’s going on?"

"Qualifying. I have to be at my best. With the grid penalty." I said hastily.

"Yeah? And that’s all? You sure?" he cocked an eyebrow and I nodded.

"Yep. I’m fine." Nope. I wasn’t.

"Lizzie. That was a tough quali but you did pretty well in the end! P2! Which means you’re starting from P12 tomorrow. What do you think is possible for you?" Naomi Schiff asked, an encouraging smile on her face.

"Yeah the quali wasn’t looking too good for most parts, but the last lap was pretty good. So yeah P12. Charles is fast this weekend, Ferrari in general looks fast, RedBull also. Valtteri will start from P7 no, P6, he can put the cars in front under pressure. Maybe we can both do that if I make my way fast enough up to him. But you never know. It’s Monza after all."

"Last time you raced in Monza you won both, the sprint and feature race, does that boost your confidence a little?"

"It certainly helps, knowing that I already was able to make it from P17 to P1. But yeah we will see. I’ll do my best. That’s all I can do."

"I need to address it. Netflix. Big thing. It’s a big step into the right direction, I think."

"Well yeah. I was hesitant at first. Knowing that my private life would be overexposed and knowing that me driving in F1 is still a thorn in the side of many people."

"I’m sure it will definitely help people see eye to eye with you? Maybe even stop the criticism you’re facing on a daily basis."

"I honestly don’t care if people like me or not. This is about way more than just me alone. It’s about how hard it is for girls in motorsport and what we have to go through. So that’s what I’m focusing on."

"There has been an uproar that you’re getting an extra documentary instead of some other drivers who contributed to the sport over the years."

"Again. This isn’t just to show me and how great my life as a F1 driver is. It will highlight my way, as a girl who was told more than once from race directors to journalists to other drivers that I won’t make it far anyway and that I should just enjoy the ride as long as possible, to being here today. Of course there are other drivers who would deserve their own spin-off. Lewis of course. He’s the one who would deserve this more than I do, for everything he has done for the sports, given the fact that he’s the only Black driver, facing racism his whole career. Knowing the struggles of how to make it as someone with limited opportunities simply because you’re not like the rest. But this isn’t my decision to make."

"Thank you Lizzie, I am really looking forward to watch it. Good luck in tomorrow’s race!"

Starting from P12 wasn’t the worst position I was in before. But racing in Monza was different. It wasn’t called temple of speed for no reason. So when I made it already onto P7 by lap 4 I thought that maybe a podium was possible after all.

"Valtteri will let you pass him."

"What? No!"

"You have more pace."

I didn’t like that. Passing him without a fight.

"Okay." I sighed and right at the next corner Valtteri left me enough space to slip past him.

The race was uneventful. For the most part. Carlos and I got called into the pits at the same time and my pit crew did an amazing job, resulting in an 2.1 second long stop, whereas Carlos having 2.9 seconds, granting me to pass him in the pits already, putting me in P4 and him in P5. As he exited the pit lane he had Valtteri right at his tail which gave me the chance to create an even bigger gap between us.

"Russel 1.7 ahead."

"Lap times?"

"24.76"

"Me?"

"24.65. Keep pushing."

"Alright."

George defended hard, but I managed to slip past him. Leaving him behind, right as I watched how Charles managed to pass Max. I inwardly cheered. Winning Monza would be amazing for him. I saw George coming closer as the yellow flag was waved.

"Safety car."

"What happened?"

"Ricciardo has to retire."

"No crash?"

"No."

The race ended with Charles winning behind the safety car.

"And P3! Amazing race, Lizzie!" Pete cheered.

"Thank you guys! That was only possible because of that amazing pitstop!"

"That’s another podium, Lizzie!" Felix radioed.

"Where’s Valtteri?"

"P5."

"Amazing! Good job from everyone!"

I parked the car next to Charles and watched him climb out, waiting for me. As soon as I was out I shook my head, tilting it towards his team and he understood, jumping in the awaiting arms of them. I ran up to my team and hugged everyone.

"You did fucking good, Lizzie." Max hugged me as soon as I walked back from my weighing, taking my helmet off.

"Yeah. You too. The safety car was a little unfortunate, though."

"He would’ve won anyways. He had way more pace than I had. And his tyres were better."

"Glad to hear that, Max." Charles chimed in and clapped his back, before he engulfed me in a big hug, picking me up und spinning me around "You were amazing, cara mia." he whispered in my ear.

"I’m so proud of you! You won both your home races in one year." I smiled and he sat me down, right as I was being dragged for my post race interview.

We walked down the stairs and I was talking to Max when I saw how our family proudly cheered for Charles as he stepped in front of them. Charles picked Liam up and he whispered something in his ear, making him laugh out loud, shaking his head.

"But we have to ask Lizzie first." Charles said right as I said my goodbyes to Max and joined them.

"Ask me what?" I looked at them.

"Charlie says he doesn’t want to celebrate tonight. He wants to watch a movie… so can we maybe watch a movie together? You and Charlie and me?" Liam looked up at me with his big puppy eyes and I smiled.

"Just us three? What’s with Mummy? Oma? Pops?" I asked and he turned in Charles’ arms looking at said people.

"I have movie night with you every week! But not with Charlie and Lizzie!"

"If Lizzie and Charlie are ok with it?" Sissy looked at me and Charles.

"Popcorn, ice cream and pizza? How does that sound?" I said and Liam’s eyes lit up.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" he clapped excitedly and I kissed his cheek.

"Alright. Later on you go with mummy back to the hotel and get bed ready, Lizzie and I try to be done here as fast as possible and then we pick you up and have our little movie night!" Charles said and I nodded.

"Okay!" Liam hugged Charles before he was sat down on the ground "See you later!"

We watched how they walked away and Charles looked at me.

"A movie night with my two favourite people sounds better than any party the team could’ve planned!"

"Are you really sure? You won. If you change your mind we can go later tonight?" I asked but he shook his head.

"Nope. I just want to get back to your hotel and watch a movie. A perfect night." he hugged.

"What my race winner wants, my race winner gets!"

I looked over, Liam snuggled into Charles side, Liams head on his chest, his arm curled around the little boy, keeping him close. Both asleep, soft snores escaping their mouths. I chuckled a little and took the bowl of popcorn, carefully getting up, grabbing my phone and waking into the bathroom.

"Hi, you want me to pick him up?" Sissy asked.

"They fell asleep. All cuddled up together. I let them sleep. Can you just bring some clothes and his bag for tomorrow? Then Charles and I can go to the karting track with him right when we get up. You can sleep in, for a change."

"Sounds amazing, but are you sure? You know he’s an early bird."

"Just like me…"

"Yeah but you had a race today, the last days weren’t easy, it would be okay if you were a little exhausted!" she sounded worried.

"I’m good. Really! I realised something today…"

"And that is?"

"No matter what I’m doing, there always will be people who hate me, have a problem with what I’m doing, how I look, what I wear, how I behave, what I wear… I can’t change their opinion. So I don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m done with feeling bad. I do what I love most. And I do it the way I want to."

"Sounds good to me. I’ll be down in 5."

It was true. After reading all the negative comments, seeing the posts, videos and what not, about the Netflix deal the whole last night I realised that no matter what I did, it was never enough. If someone decided to hate me, then I couldn’t make them change their mind. They had to do that themselves and if they didn’t want to? Then it’s their problem. I wouldn’t let them drag me down again and again for doing what I love so fiercely. I got up when Sissy texted me that she was outside my door.

"Here are fresh clothes, I packed some extra clothes because you never know! If there’s anything, give me a call."

"I will and now order yourself a cocktail and enjoy your night off."

"Don’t worry, I will." she grinned and walked away.

I took Charles rings and watch carefully off and put them on the bedside table. Then I pulled the blanket from underneath them and tucked them gently in, kissing both their cheeks, before climbing in next to them in bed, switching the light off. Scooting a little closer, getting sleepy. Tiredness taking over.

"Cara mia?" Charles whispered after a while and I hummed quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too and now sleep. You need your energy, because today was your only victory in Italy for this week!"

"We’ll see…"

His soft chuckle was the last thing I heard, before I fell asleep.

The whole elevator ride up Liam was chuckling.

"Don’t look at me like it’s my fault!" he said and I groaned.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Hey! You’re the grown up!" he laughed.

"You’re turning 5 in 5 months… sorry that I thought I could give you something to drink without you spilling it all over yourself! Ruining the last set of fresh clothes that I had for you!" I sighed and he chuckled even more as we walked out on the corridor "Can you please help me?" I looked at Charles who held his hands up.

"Nope. You two are doing fine." he said and I shot him a glare, taking the key card out of my bag.

"You’re a traitor!" I whisper shouted and he laughed right as we walked inside the room "Sissy? We need new clothes for Liam, I don’t know if you’ve seen my text…" I said loudly into the room when we heard shuffling and rummaging, rounding the corner. Sissy stood in front of us, covered in only a towel, her hand on the closet door.

"Sorry!" Charles held his hands in front of his eyes and turned around "I didn’t see anything."

"H-Hi? What umm- what are you doing here?" Sissy sounded out of breath "I thought you would take him with you to the karting track?"

"We were in our way when Mr. I won’t spill my juice well spilled his juice all over himself… didn’t you get my text?" I looked around for her phone "Did you just get up?"

"What? No? I took a shower and now I wanted to get ready and meet you at the track!"

"Oh, okay. Charles, help Liam out of his dirty clothes, please." I turned to him and he nodded, Liam already throwing his wet shirt on the floor "We can wait for you and then all go tog-…"

"NO!" she all but shouted and I looked at her "I mean no, you don’t have to wait! You know how long I take to get ready! You guys go and we’ll meet there! All good!"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah? I mean? Are you?"

"I am…"

"So, see you on track then?" she clapped her hands together.

"Fresh clothes for Liam?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"Umm- right…" she didn’t move.

"Can you give them to me?"

"Sure."

"Okay? Then do it?"

"I will."

"Yeah? Then open the closet and hand them to me?"

"What?"

"Closet? Behind you? Fresh clothes for your son?"

"Umm…"

"Is there a reason why you won’t open that closet?"

"No?" she laughed nervously and the realisation hit me. I looked around and spotted a pair of shoes. And I knew those shoes.

"Okay, then open it?" I grinned and she blushed "Come on! Open the doors, your son needs new clothes…"

She still didn’t move her eyes looking everywhere but at me.

"Charles, can you go with Liam to the bathroom please? He’s probably a little sticky… I’ll bring you the fresh clothes in a minute."

"Sure, come on Bubba. Mum and auntie are in some weird kind of conversation…" he whispered taking Liams hand, leading him in the bathroom.

"Girls are so weird!" Liam giggled and the door closed.

Sissy sighed and I leaned on the table.

"Are you hiding Daniel Ricciardo in your closet?" I laughed.

"What?" Charles voice rang out from the bathroom.

"Oh god. Can this day get any worse?" Sissy mumbled and looked down.

I pushed myself off of the table and walked towards her, her eyes widened.

"Are you decent, Daniel?" I asked and I’ve never seen my sisters face this red.

"Not really, no…" his voice sounded muffled.

"Okay… I turn around and you hand my sister some clothes for Liam, is that alright?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Thanks."

As soon as I had the clothes I pushed them in Charles waiting hands at the bathroom door, his face flushed from not laughing out loud.

"Hurry up please!" I said and he nodded, dressing Liam up.

"I’m not a baby! I can do it alone!" he protested but Charles shook his head.

"I love you, Bubba, but we’re in a hurry and you need too long!"

"Unfair." he groaned as Charles picked him up.

"Alright, we’re leaving!" I said as the two boys came out of the bathroom "See you later, then we can have a nice talk?"

"Yeah, whatever." Sissy rolled her eyes

"Wait! I want to give Mummy a kiss!" Liam whined and Charles looked at me with big eyes.

"Okay, a quick one!" she said and crossed the room, as the door of the closet opened slowly.

"Oh shit, no, no, no, no, no!" Daniel exclaimed and tried to grasp the door.

"Okay, bye!" Sissy pecked Liams cheek and pushed him and Charles towards the door. I waved a red headed Daniel, covering his down under region and followed Charles and Liam out.

"Take your time…" I whispered to my sister as she slammed the door shut.

We walked quickly and in total silence to the elevator and as soon as the door closed Charles looked at me, eyes full of tears of suppressed laughter.

"Why was Daniel Ricciardo hiding in Mummy’s closet? Did they play hide and seek?" Liam asked and Charles and I lost it, both laughing out loud, tears streaming down our faces, Liam looking confused at us "Did Mummy lose?"

"Oh no Bubba, I think Mummy won…" I said, breathing heavily.

"Yeah, I think so too." Charles was almost breathless.

"He’s really good!" Max stated as he got out of his kart, together with his nephew "This little one here is not ready yet."

"What did you expect? He’s not even 2!" I laughed, ruffling the little boy’s, a hard copy of Max, hair.

"With 2 I drove my first race."

"Of course." I rolled my eyes and slapped his shoulder, right as I heard a screeching followed by metal crashing on metal. I turned around in horror, seeing how Charles jumped out of his kart, discarding his helmet and running to the little mountain of debris. My heart skipped a beat.

"Liam!" I croaked out, a lump formed in my throat, I didn’t even realise that I was running towards Charles already.

"It’s okay Liam, it’s all okay!" Charles cooed and I fell down on my knees next to him, watching how he gently took off Liams helmet "Is it only your arm? Or somewhere else?"

"Arm only." tears streaming down his face.

"Okay, that’s good! You’re doing amazing!" Charles carefully picked Liam up and stood up. I quickly did the same, looking at the wrecked kart "Hospital. Now." Charles looked at me and I gulped.

"Are you sure we shouldn’t call an ambulance?" I was unsure.

"They take too long! We’re faster! Come on!" Charles nodded towards the exit, starting to walk off.

I looked at the wrecked kart, when I saw what caused the crash.

"Lizzie!" Charles shouted and I flinched, turning around. He said something to Max who only nodded and I followed him outside to the car, where he buckled Liam into his car seat.

"Stay with me, Charlie." he sobbed and Charles nodded, handing me the keys.

"I try to call Sissy!" I already dialled her number, but only got the mailbox. I called her again and again. The whole way to the hospital, following Charles’ instructions. Nothing. I groaned in frustration.

"Are we there yet?" Liam whimpered from the backseat.

"Almost Bubba. Lizzie is driving as fast as she can." Charles held him close, stroking his back and kissing his head.

"I’m so sorry, Liam. It was my fault." I said, blinking tears away. I felt Charles hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing it.

"It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault." he said but I shook my head.

"I should’ve checked the kart first."

"You did! You couldn’t anticipate that the suspension would break!"

"But I… I was taking care of him. He was with me. I didn’t… it’s my fault. He got hurt while I was watching over him…" my voice hoarse.

"It wasn’t your fault! Stop it now! We’re here. Everything will be fine!" Charles unbuckled his seatbelt as soon as I parked the car and jumped out, running around the car getting Liam out, carrying him carefully in. I swallowed hard and followed them.

"… are you the father?" a nurse said and I looked up.

"No, I’m his uncle. This is his aunt. His mother is at the hotel, we couldn’t reach her. But we keep trying! Just take care of him." Charles said to the nurse, while he sat Liam on a stretcher.

"Alright. Then let’s go little man. Sir, you and your wife can come with us." the nurse said and Charles took my hand and pulled me with him.

"He’s in good hands, Lizzie. He will be fine." Charles whispered and I nodded, silent tears streaming down my face.

I watched how a doctor carefully examined Liams arm, silent tears running down his cheek, Charles stood next to him, holding his hand and stroking his back. It was all happening in a blur. I wasn’t even sure if I heard everything correctly that was said.

"I would say it’s a simple and clean break of the radius, I can’t feel any splintering. But to be 100% sure we make an x-ray." the doctor said and Charles nodded "But before that, you’ll get a little cup of magic juice. Then the pain will be gone in no time." and right on cue the nurse from before came in with a tray with a little cup and a big cup on it.

"Here, the magic juice might have a little bitter after taste." she handed Liam the small cup and waited for him to empty it, then handed him the big cup with water "I come back in five minutes and get you to take a nice little picture of your bones, how does that sound?"

"Will you cut open my arm? To see my bones?" Liam made big eyes and Charles chuckled a little.

"No! We have a special camera that can take pictures through your flesh."

"Just like Superman?"

"Exactly!" she smiled and booped his nose "You are a clever one!" Liam blushed a little and began to giggle "You will feel a little funny and maybe even a little tingly because of the magic juice." Liam nodded and she left.

"You’re doing amazing, Bubba." Charles kissed his head, not moving from his side, while I just sat there. Unable to move, to talk, to do anything at all. I was in shock. I was supposed to look after him. And I failed.

"Alright little man! Let’s go. Your aunt and uncle will have to wait here, but don’t worry I will take good care of you!" the nurse helped Liam to sit in a wheelchair and left. I was looking at the closed door and didn’t even realise that Charles sat down next to me.

"Cara mia? Are you okay?" he whispered as he took my hands in his, turning me to look at him.

"I was supposed to take care of him." I mumbled and he sighed, pulling me into him "I failed."

"Stop it. You couldn’t know that this was happening! You took care of him! Like you always do! It’s not your fault, you hear me?" Charles tried to reassure me but I shook my head.

"Look how you took care of him! You held his hand, were by his side while I sat here and did nothing but staring at him. Not even saying anything encouraging to him. Nothing!" a new wave of tears was streaming down my face and Charles cupped my cheeks, wiping them away with his thumbs.

"You were under shock! It’s okay! He is okay! Did you see how he smiled at the nurse? How he pretended to be like a strong boy who wasn’t in pain whenever she came in? The little charmer tried to impress her." Charles chucked and I looked at him.

"I didn’t even realise that. I was so lost in my thoughts." I whispered and he nodded.

"It’s all okay. It’s just a simple break. They will fix it. He will have a cast for a bit and then he will have a cool story to tell back home." Charles stroked my back and I nodded, right as they brought Liam back in.

The doctor looked at the pictures, explaining Liam what he could see and to everyone’s relief it was really just a simple and clean break, that needed no special fixing, only a cast to keep it still.

"Now you have to decide what colour you want. We can make it white, blue or red." the doctor asked Liam and he had a big smile on his face.

"Red!" he said determined and I had to chuckle a little. Red. Just like Ferrari.

"Good choice! Any special reason?"

"Charlie drives for Ferrari and Ferrari is red. And Lizzie drives for Audi, they’re also kinda red. So of course red!" Liam explained proudly and I smiled at him.

"Here is a prescription for some painkillers. Check in with his doctor back home in the next 3-4 weeks. Maybe the cast can be removed by then already." the doctor said and I nodded.

"Thank you so much!" I smiled at him and shook his hand.

"Yeah, thank you." Charles shook his hand as well "Ready to go, Bubba?" Liam nodded, yawning a little.

"The pain medication from earlier will make him a little drowsy, maybe a little nap and enough to drink, then he’ll be fine in no time!" the nurse said and Liam smiled at her "Goodbye, little man! You were so tough!" she gently ruffled his hair and Liam giggled.

"Goodbye, nurse Isabella. You were an amazing nurse!" he said and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Okay, little Casanova, time to go." Charles chuckled, hosting him up and carrying him.

The whole way outside he was waving to nurse Isabella.

"She was pretty." Liam said as I opened the doors.

"She really was." I laughed but then I saw Sissy rushing towards us, closely followed by Mum and Dad. Daniel was waiting a little behind with Max and his nephew.

"What happened?" she asked and kissed Liams cheek, looking at his arm "Lizzie? What happened?" she looked at me and I began to stutter.

"H-He drove- umm suspen- suspension broke and he broke and he’s- he’s umm…" the panic in her eyes made my anxiety shot through the roof. Charles sensed it and stepped closer, rubbing soothing circles with his hand on my waist, pulling me into him, while still holding onto Liam.

"The suspension of his kart broke, we don’t know why. He spun out and crashed into a barrier. He let go of the steering wheel and his arm made contact with the barrier. He’s okay. An easy and clean break of the radius. No surgery needed. He will have the cast for at least 3-4 weeks, then you should see your doctor at home. And it might can come off. Here’s some prescription for painkillers. He’s a little… well yeah kinda high because of something he got earlier. He’s a little tired. Let him sleep, give him enough to drink and he’ll be okay in no time." he said and Sissy nodded, looking at me.

"Lizzie?" she said and I shook my head, Charles stepped away.

"I’m sorry! I swear I checked the kart before! I don’t know how it happened!" I said and she hugged me, I sobbed, apologising over and over again.

"Hey! He’s okay! Right? Nothing bad happened! It’s okay! It’s not your fault!" she whispered but I shook my head.

"I was supposed to take care of him and I fa-…"

"You took care of him. He’s okay! It’s not going to be his first broken bone! At his age you had already broken your arm twice and your leg once! Don’t forget about your elbow on Christmas!” she said and I chuckled through the tears.

"Yeah that was stupid." I sniffled a little.

"It just showed that you would fight for what you want! You didn’t get a bike, we did, you wanted to have one as well so you climbed on mine to steel it… well we know how it ended!"

"I actually didn’t want to steel it… I wanted to break it." I admitted and Sissy laughed.

"Wow! Okay!" she pulled away and wiped my tears off of my cheeks "Are you okay?"

"Yeah… sorry…" I sighed but she shook her head.

"Stop apologising." she looked over at Liam who showed off his cast to Mum, Dad, Daniel, Max and his nephew "Look how happy he is."

"Who? Liam or Daniel…" I asked and she pinched my side.

"Very funny."

"So you and Daniel?" I winked at her.

"Me and Daniel…" she sighed a little.

"I need more than that… but not today. Today was enough. And today isn’t even over yet…" I groaned and she laughed.

"It barely even started…" Sissy took my hand and we walked over to the little group.

I saw how Dad was looking curiously at Daniel who was signing Liam’s cast. Handing the pen to Max who signed right under it.

"You have to sign as well Lizzie! Right after Charlie!" Liam said excitedly and I nodded, right as Dad pulled me to his side, kissing the side of my head.

"Why did Daniel Ricciardo arrive with your sister at the karting track?" he asked and Sissy’s cheeks were turning red, while Daniel’s smile got bigger, although he seemed a little flustered.

But before I could even say anything Liam beat me to it.

"Mummy and Daniel were playing hide and seek in Mummy’s room this morning. He was hiding in her closet. Not the worst hiding spot." he chirped and Charles laughed, trying to cover it up with a cough.

"Oh? Is that so? Interesting. Very interesting." Dad said and looked at Daniel, now blushing as well.

"Why is that interesting? It’s just hide and seek?" Liam asked confused and I laughed.

"Grown up stuff." Charles said.

"Oh? They played a grown up version of hide and seek?" he looked at Charles who almost choked up, trying hard to not laugh.

"Exactly. They played the grown up version of hide and seek!"

"I’m hungry? Is anyone else hungry? Yeah? Let’s have some lunch I’d say, right?" Sissy said hastily and pushed Charles with Liam in his arms towards our car "Come on! Let’s go!"

"Is the difference between kids hide and seek and grown up hide and seek that in the grown up version you have to be naked?" Liam asked and I lost it. Together with Charles and Max we laughed out loud. Sissy and Daniel turning even redder. Mum chuckling quietly. Dad kept looking between Liam, Daniel and Sissy.

"Interesting. Very interesting indeed."

Little Note:

Chapter 25 - MONZA… I just had to let Charles win! And like the title said… DRAMA 😬 I hope you like it!

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@silkenthusiasts @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @itsjustkhaos @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @glitterf1 @janeholt3 @maeve-wileyy @18754389 @chiliwhore @hellowgoodbye @queensassybitchsworld @harrysdimple05 @skynel09

All the images I’m using are from Google, Pinterest and Instagram (or self made).

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coneyislandbabey · 11 months

Text

one; a study in lake water and forest princesses. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: None for this chapter!

SYNOPSIS: This is chapter one of the Camp Wawayanda Lake Series! (read the prologue here!) It's the first day of camp and Billy does something stupid that sets Daisy on a summer-long path toward revenge. word count: 3,620

NOTES: I'm super psyched that you guys loved the prologue! I hope this one lives up to your expectations <3 check out the official series playlist on spotify!

Dawn was barely breaking over camp when you awoke. Stretching, you observed your cabin mates in the gray morning light: Daisy in the bed next to you, sprawled on her stomach, her red hair a chaotic mess all around her; Simone on the other side of her, pink satin bonnet secured over her hair, ancient quilt tucked right up around her chin; across the room Karen, her sheets and blankets shoved to the floor in the night, laying flat on her back with her head hanging almost over the edge, messy blonde hair brushing the wooden floor; and Camila, curled in the fetal position and almost tucked entirely beneath her sheet, only the top of her dark head of hair visible. You couldn’t help but grin as you looked around at the four of them. There was no better feeling in the world than waking up back at camp, surrounded by your favorite people. Waking up even earlier than you had to for school didn’t even feel bad when it was at Wawayanda Lake.

Slowly, you pulled yourself onto your feet and made your bed, laughing to yourself over the fact that none of your movement or noise made anyone else wake up. All of your girls were such heavy sleepers. Just then, you knew the kitchen crew was finishing breakfast, setting it out on the long buffet tables for the kids and staff. You were close friends with a lot of the kitchen boys– Mario and Pat and Benny especially, all boys whose mothers were friends with Rod and had been coming to camp with you practically since birth– and the thought of them getting breakfast ready already had you excited to get back to your usual nightly poker games with them and the girls.

You change into a loose powder blue t-shirt and a pair of orange athletic shorts, sitting on the edge of your bed to tie your laces before heading to the cabin’s tiny bathroom– nothing more than a toilet and a sink with a rusted mirror above it, as the showers had a cabin of their own– to brush your teeth and fix your hair for the day. As you do so, you hear the others begin to stir in the other room, and by the time you emerge, Camila and Simone are up with their beds made, getting ready for the day.

“How on Earth are you always up so damn early?” Simone grumbled as she caught sight of you coming out of the bathroom, chipper and ready to get started on the first day of camp. She was sitting on her made bed, her clothes for the day on her lap, though she made no move to actually get dressed.

You laughed, shaking your head at the grumpy way her eyebrows drew together. “Some of us can function as morning people, Mone.”

“I can’t believe you ever became a counselor in the first place,” Camila piped up from the other side of the room with a laugh. “It’s, like, a mix of so many things you hate. Getting up early, the outdoors, the heat, being surrounded by so many children.”

Simone rolled her eyes as Camila ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “Something about you people charmed me, but I honestly can’t remember what now.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” you dismissed, wrapping your arms around Simone’s shoulders. “We’re your irresistibly favorite people.” Simone only grunted in response, finally standing and making a move to get dressed as you released her shoulders.

“I’ll see you guys at breakfast, I’m gonna go visit Rod and Teddy first,” you said, opening the screen door and letting yourself out into the cool morning air. It was slightly foggy, though you could see the sun doing its damndest to break through and knew it would be blistering by noon.

Teddy and Rod had a cabin up near the administrative buildings, a few minutes’ walk away from the counselor and camper cabins. It was one of the oldest structures on the property, an honest-to-god logger’s cabin that had been built sometime in the 1890s, a beautiful, cozy little place that you had spent as much time as possible in as a kid. It was about sixty years later that the rest of the camp began to spring up around it.

You knew Uncle Rod would still be asleep when you got there– he’d always been terrible at waking up before eleven at the earliest, but Teddy was just as much of an early bird as you. Stepping up to the front porch, you caught sight of him through the window, sitting in one of the big armchairs in the living room with a cup of coffee and a book. You rapped your knuckles lightly against the glass, sending him a wave when he looked up. Smiling, he came over to open the door for you.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he greeted, moving aside to allow you in.

“Morning, Teddy,” you grinned, dropping into the chair opposite his. “So, first day. How are you feeling about this season?”

“Tired just thinkin’ about it,” he chuckled. “The kids seem good, though. Our regulars are back, and the new kids don’t seem like they’ll be trouble.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed. “I’m just glad that little menace, Danny Kowalski, from last year didn’t come back.”

“I told his mother our price was raised by seventy-five dollars just to get her not to send him back,” Teddy told you seriously, and you bursted into laughter.

“Genius,” you said as you calmed down.

“How are you feeling about this season?”

“Oh, relieved to be back,” you told him. “This is my place, you know? All of my favorite people are here, and I love looking after the kids. I couldn’t wait to get back.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever know what it means to your uncle that you love it here so much,” Teddy told you, the smile on his face soft and fond.

“Well, I don’t think he’ll ever know how much it means to me that he keeps inviting me back,” you responded earnestly. Teddy reached out and dropped his large hand over yours, patting it a few times.

“You better get goin’ to breakfast before you miss all the good stuff,” Teddy told you and you laughed, standing from your seat.

“See you later, tell Uncle Rod I dropped in,” you said with a wave as you exited back out onto the dirt path. The sun had broken through the morning mist a little more, cascading in golden beams through the trees. By now, the wake up call had gone out through the camp, and everyone was in varying states of consciousness, getting ready for the day and making their way to breakfast. You passed gaggles of little campers in matching Wawayanda Lake ringer tees, the white fabric standing against the dark green letters and collar and their already tanned skin.

All of your friends were at your usual table as you entered the mess hall, raucous conversation emanating from your little corner. You laughed to yourself when you saw that Daisy was leaning her head against the wall, seemingly asleep again. If Simone was bad with mornings, Daisy was awful with them. You made your plate and joined them, easily falling into the conversation they were already in the middle of. That was something you loved so dearly about these friends, this place; you felt that you belonged in every way and with every person. Not once had you ever felt alone or isolated here, and you knew that you never would.

After breakfast, you stopped in the break room of the mess hall with everyone else to see what your assignments for the day were. You each had two daily, one assignment for the morning, and one for the afternoon, after lunch. Finding the row with your name, you almost laughed out loud. You and Daisy were assigned to lead the morning hike. Should be fun, seeing how Daisy is still barely awake. You watched as Daisy, eyelids still drooping, found her assignment and groaned, collapsing into the desk chair behind her.

“Hey, maybe the hike will help wake you up,” you said to Daisy, clapping her on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got the arts and crafts cabin this afternoon,” Daisy grumbled. “I have to teach stupid tennis after traipsing through the woods.”

“Oh, come on, Hazy, lace up your sneakers,” you said, amused. A few minutes later the two of you were standing at the head of the blue trail with a group of twenty campers, chatting eagerly with one another and amped up on a school year’s worth of pent up energy.

Blue trail went about a third of the way around the edge of the large lake, emptying out at the docks before pivoting and returning back to the main camp deeper through the woods. It took about two hours to complete, leaving you all time to freshen up a bit before lunch and the afternoon activities. You loved leading the hike. You knew all the trails by heart; hell, you could find your way back to camp without any trail in the dark at this point, probably. You knew a lot about the local flora and fauna and loved to point out what you saw on the hike, watching the kids’ mesmerized faces as they trailed a pair of blue jays through the sky, or caught a glimpse of a deer through a copse of trees.

Daisy, on the other hand, absolutely hated it. Leading the hike was probably her least favorite activity at camp, and Rod was probably being a little shit by assigning it to her on the very first day. Luckily, yours and the kids' excitement was eclipsing Daisy’s already stormy mood.

“Alright, campers,” you announced, and suddenly twenty pairs of eyes were on you. “I have a prize for whoever can spot and correctly identify five different birds on our hike. How ‘bout we get this show on the road?”

With a cheer the kids surged forward and you grinned, leading the way into the mouth of the trail. You breathed in the thick scent of pine, relishing in the warmth of the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches. You kept a list in your little field notes book of who had identified which bird, and led a few call and response songs that you knew off the top of your head from your Girl Scouts days, laughing as the kids screamed them back at you at the top of their lungs. Daisy trudged behind, bringing up the rear, slowly but surely waking up, her mood brightening by degrees. Even she was not impervious to the happiness that sunlight brings.

Sooner than you expected, the path widened until it emptied into the small, sandy area that constituted a beach in front of the lake. The dock lay beyond it, a few rowboats tethered to one side and a group of campers splashing around in the designated swim area on the other side. You grinned as you caught sight of Warren standing at the edge of the dock in a white t-shirt and red lifeguard board shorts, bent over with his hands on his knees so that he could talk to two kids in the water. Billy, the other counselor assigned to morning lake duty, was taking his shirt off and threatening to get in the water after a few kids who weren’t following the rules.

“Okay, guys! We’re at the halfway point, so how about we take a little break?” you said, turning around to face your small group. “Why don’t you all sit at the picnic tables and eat the snacks you brought.”

At your words, the kids flew off in the direction of the clump of picnic tables, taking water bottles and granola bars out of their drawstring bags. Daisy came to stand next to you, and for the first time that morning, she had a smile on her face.

“Not so bad, huh, Hazy?” you asked, nudging her in the ribs when she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t push it, babe,” she warned you, and you threw your hands up in mock surrender.

“C’mon, let’s go say hello to the boys,” you said, linking your arm through hers and dragging her towards the dock. Billy noticed the pair of you first, and stopped threatening the kids in the water long enough to come over to you.

“Hey, how’s the hike?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Terrible. As usual,” Daisy said, and Billy rolled his eyes, smirking at her usual antics.

“Oh, don’t listen to her,” you said, unlinking your arm from Daisy’s so that you could dig a few granola bars out of your own bag. Wordlessly, you passed one to the redhead. “The rest of us are having a great time.”

Just as you were about to open your granola bar, someone slammed into your side full force. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you so that you wouldn’t fall on your ass. Turning your head, you came nose to nose with Warren’s grinning face.

“Hey, cariño, what are you doing out here?” Even after you were steadied, Warren’s arms stayed linked securely around your waist. Unconsciously, you felt yourself slightly leaning into the warmth of him, the clean cotton smell of his shirt and the coconut scent of his sunscreen.

“Hiking,” you told him, gesturing to shore, where your group was sitting. “Taking our halfway point break.”

“Well, aren’t I lucky that I was scheduled out here today, then,” he said cheekily, and you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing him away. “Did you see we’re working the arts and crafts cabin together later?”

“Yup,” you nodded, “looks like you’re double lucky today.”

“Looks like,” Warren agreed.

You hadn’t noticed that Daisy and Billy had moved down the dock during your conversation until Daisy started shouting. Whipping around, you spotted the pair of them on the other end of the dock. She seemed to be reprimanding him, and based on the shit-eating grin on his face, he was not absorbing a single thing she said. He made a move to poke her in the ribs, and as she jerked away from that, attempted to grab the granola bar out of her hand. As she tried to dodge him, she lost her footing.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, being able to see the disaster about to unfold, but unable to do anything to stop it.

Daisy’s arms pinwheeled in the air, her light eyes going wide. The heel of her sneaker had gotten caught between two slats of wood, halting her movement and making her completely lose her balance. Billy was too caught up in screwing around to notice in time to help, and before anyone else could move, Daisy fell backward into the lake with a loud splash.

“Shit. Daisy!” Billy shouted, kneeling down and holding on the dock with one hand, reaching down to try to grab the redhead and pull her out with the other. In seconds, he had a grip on her forearm, and blithely pulled her out of the water, helping her climb back onto the dock.

Despite her dousing, Daisy’s whole face was bright red, made to look all the brighter by the fiery hair plastered to her face. You could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

“This is not good,” Warren muttered beside you, and you shook your head in agreement. It was like watching a car crash: horrible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“You better watch yourself, Dunne,” Daisy said, her voice dangerously low as she jabbed her pointer finger into his chest. “Because I will be getting payback.”

Without another word, Daisy turned on her heel and trudged off the dock towards your group. She shouted something at them and started down the trail without checking to see if you or the children were following her.

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you told Warren, pulling him into a quick hug before running down the dock. You offered a quick wave to Billy, stifling a laugh at the expression of horror adorning his face.

“Break time over, guys! Let’s go catch up with Daisy,” you called, harried, to the kids, who were doing their best to pack their snacks up and get back to the trail. You brought up the rear for the rest of the hike, keeping a worried eye on Daisy’s distant wet head.

Daisy disappeared into your cabin during the break, and you filled in the rest of the girls on the morning’s events over lunch. Everyone was in agreement that Daisy was about to go nuclear, and nothing good could possibly come from it. Knowing Daisy meant knowing that there was absolutely no way to predict how she would react to anything, and you were all waiting with baited breath to see what form her payback would come in for this incident.

You all parted at the end of lunch uneasily, heading into the afternoon with a wariness, keeping on high alert to see if Daisy would try to get her revenge immediately. However, as you walked past the tennis courts to get to the arts and crafts cabin, you saw Daisy standing near the fence, wearing a new, dry outfit and with her still-damp hair tied up in a ponytail. She sure as hell didn’t look happy, but she also didn’t look like she was about to find and kill Billy Dunne in the immediate future, either. That was the best you could hope for.

You were a few minutes late to afternoon activities after taking the long way past the tennis courts, and when you arrived, Warren already had all the kids started on their art: macaroni necklaces for the little ones, string friendship bracelets for the older ones. Warren was sitting in one of the tiny plastic kid chairs, his knees practically up to his chest as he helped a little redheaded boy string macaroni onto some thread. Smiling, you grabbed a chair from a stack against the wall and sat across from him.

“Oh, look who finally showed up to her post,” Warren said by way of greeting.

“I decided to take pity on you and not leave you alone in a room full of children and gallons of glitter,” you responded, your voice as full of sarcastic faux-cheer as his. He rolled his eyes, handing the redheaded boy his necklace once he was done helping him.

“So…” Warren started, glancing around the table to make sure all the kids were too busy with their projects to really be listening to your conversation. “This morning was interesting, huh?”

“That’s one word for it, for sure.”

“What do you think Daisy means by ‘payback’?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Rojas,” you said honestly. “But whatever she settles on, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

Warren laughed in agreement. “I feel sorry for Billy.”

“Eh, he’s got it coming,” you shrugged. “The two of them rib each other all summer every year. I can’t believe it took this long to escalate, honestly.”

“Maybe if Daisy kicks his a–” Warren started, cutting himself off abruptly when he remembered he was surrounded by impressionable elementary schoolers. “His you know what, they’ll act normal next summer.”

“Now that is some wishful thinking– I don’t think either of them are capable of acting normal.”

As you spoke, you absentmindedly strung pieces of macaroni and chunky wooden beads onto a strand of summery orange thread. When you finished, you triumphantly tied it and slung it around your neck, showing it off to the table in a way that made all the kids giggle.

“And Miss (y/n),” a tiny, curly-haired boy to your left started. “You’re pretty! Right, Mr. Warren?”

“Oh, certainly,” Warren agreed, nodding his head in a theatrical manner. “She’s so pretty because she’s the forest princess of Wawayanda Lake.” The little boy turned to look at you with shocked, saucer eyes, and you stifled a laugh.

“Well, thank you boys,” you said, smiling gently at them.

The rest of the afternoon flew by in the blink of an eye, you and Warren passing most of the time catching up on what happened over the school year and occasionally helping kids finish their projects. At dinner, all nine of you sat together, though Daisy pointedly sat all the way on the other end of the table from Billy, eating quickly and leaving the mess hall early.

She wasn’t at the cabin when you all got back after your showers, and the rest of you tried to go about your night as normal, pretending the thought of Daisy out there somewhere on the campgrounds plotting revenge wasn’t unsettling.

You sat on the front steps of your cabin with Karen, Camila, and Simone, wearing a giant Philadelphia Eagles t-shirt that you stole from Warren last summer, your hair swept up in your towel, a contraband cigarette dangling from your lips. Karen was on the step below you, her hair up in big pink rollers as she shuffled a deck of cards for a quick game of poker before you all got ready for bed. Just as she was about to deal, Daisy rounded the side of the cabin, making her way over to you with a scary look of determination on her face.

There was a devilish gleam in her eye when she opened her mouth.

“I know how we’re getting Billy back.”

tag list: @iwantloveletterss @boredshit-shadow @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @lilyhw1 @graziellasnotes @nicostars @robinismywife @xxxlaura @hella-sirius @everyonesannoyedwithme

#daisy jones and the six #djats #warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #daisy jones #billy dunne #eddie roundtree #eddie loving #karen sirko #karen karen #simone jackson #camila dunne #graham dunne

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absurdthirst · 2 years

Text

Happy Mother’s Day {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: Post pregnancy, angst, body image issues, breastfeeding, postpartum depression, mentions of cheating, miscommunication, lactation kink, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex

Comments: You are three months out from having your daughter Lily with your boyfriend Marcus Pike. He’s been secretive and there have been messages you've seen with his gorgeous - non post baby body - coworker. You think he’s cheating and Marcus is focused on making your Mother’s Day a day you always remember.

A/N: Postpartum depression and post baby body issues are a very valid thing. Motherhood is wonderful but it can take a toll on the mental health and physicality of those that bring life into the world.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Your entire world feels like it’s crumbling. Eyes watering as you look down at the baby, sleeping peacefully in her bassinet like there is nothing wrong. Even though everything was going to change when her father decides that he’s done trying to hide the relationship that he is obviously having with her. Of course he would want her. You are fat, covered in stretch marks, your boobs leak, you can’t even remember if you showered yesterday and most damning of all, he hasn’t touched you since Lily’s birth. “I’m so sorry.” You whisper to your daughter, regretting not being enough to keep him home, never wanting a broken home like you had been raised in. You had thought that Marcus Pike had felt the same way, but the way the text messages are flying, obviously not.

Marcus is nervous. Today is the day. He double checks he has everything on the tray. “Pancakes. Check. Bacon. Check. Eggs. Check. Mimosa. Check. Coffee. Check. Syrup. Check. Butt- butter. Shit. Butter.” He says, rushing to get some butter from the fridge. He cuts it up and places it in the pancakes. He adjusts the flower in the thin vase and he grins as he carries the tray into the bedroom, frowning when he sees you crying. “Baby? What - what’s wrong?” He asks, his happiness deflating at seeing you so upset.

Looking up, you swipe your eyes, plastering on a smile that you know probably looks fake. “N-nothing.” You promise, hating that he caught you crying. “Everything.” You admit, knowing he won’t believe you entirely. “Hormones.” You explain with half a shrug as if that explained everything. It should, you were emotional since finding out you were pregnant and even more so after you had Lily.

Marcus frowns, carrying the tray over to you. “Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart. First of many.” He smiles, leaning in to kiss your cheek and he frowns when you freeze. He sets the tray down on your lap, “I made all your favorites.” He says, “I, uh, since Lily can’t cook yet.” His joke falls flat and he shifts to look over at Lily. “Hey baby girl.” He coos, reaching out to stroke her head. He’s so in love with her it’s insane. He swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest every time he sees you breastfeeding her.

“I-, uh, thanks.” There’s no way that you could eat right now, already feeling like you are going to be sick. The text messages that you had seen before you had just turned off the iPad had made you want to throw up. ‘I don’t want to make her too suspicious. I want everything in place before I do this.’ Followed up by his co-worker’s reply. ‘God I love you Marcus ❤️ You are such a good man.’ You wonder how she could think he’s a good man when they are discussing him leaving.

He isn't sure what's wrong but he figures it could just be that you're tired. "You want me to take her while you eat your breakfast? Daddy has missed his little chickie." He coos, stroking her cheek with his finger. His nickname for her since she was born crying out until she quietened down and almost chirped whenever she needed something.

“Sure.” You nod, almost hating to see the affection he pours on his daughter. Not because of her, but because you know you are going to be heartbroken to not receive that kind of affection too. “I need to go to the bathroom.” You murmur, pushing off the bed and rushing to the safety of the en-suite.

Marcus frowns, watching you shut the door, and he sets the tray down on the dresser so nothing spills and he scoops up the baby. Cradling her in his arms as he walks towards the bathroom door. “What’s wrong with mommy, huh?” He whispers, leaning down to kiss her forehead before he stands next to the door. “Are you okay, baby? What’s wrong?” He asks, concern in his voice.

“I-I’m f-fine.” You hiccup, hoping he doesn’t hear the tears in your voice. “I- I’m going to shower, okay?” Your lip trembles and you turn on the water before you start pulling off your clothes. Unable to even look at yourself in the mirror, knowing that because of your post-baby body, the ugly marks and flabby skin, the man you love is going to leave you.

Marcus changes the baby’s diaper while you shower, wanting you to relax all day. “There we go, Lilypad. All clean.” He coos, blowing raspberries on her stomach to make her giggle. Something she’s only just recently done. He changes her onesie to the one he had bought for today that says “I ❤️ my mama.” He grins, cradles her in his arms and sits down on the bed, just watching her. She begins to cry just as you exit the bathroom. “I think she’s hungry, sweetheart. I just changed her. I know you showered but do you-?” He is unsure of how to act around you since you seem so upset.

“I’ll feed her.” The shower did you some good, allowing you to compose yourself and calm down. You weren’t going to let this wreck you. “Come here pretty girl.” You coo softly. “Is my baby girl hungry?” You ask, taking her from Marcus and pulling your tank top down so she can latch on. “Do you have to go to the office today?” You ask, looking over at Marcus.

Marcus watches you breastfeed, ignoring the way his cock twitches at the sight, and he rubs his palms on his jeans, suddenly sweaty. “Oh, uh, yeah. I just - just for an hour or so. Got some paperwork to do.” He says, hating how awkward his voice sounds but fuck, he’s nervous. He doesn’t know what your reaction is gonna be.

“Of course.” You are proud of the way that you don’t scream at him or burst into tears. “It’s important.” You comment, looking down at Lily. You’ve already decided that you are playing along, see what he does before you give into your first instinct to pack up and leave. You didn’t want to rush, wanting to find a decent place for you and your daughter.

Marcus wishes you would open up to him. You’ve been so closed off since having Lily. He knows you have been through a lot and you are adapting to being a mother. You’re incredible and that’s what he wanted to tell you today but you seem to be in a slump and he doesn’t want to upset you even more. “Okay. I- I’m gonna head out then.” He murmurs, standing up. He leans down to softly peck your lips, kissing your forehead before kissing Lily’s. “Bye my gorgeous girls.” He offers you a smile as he grabs his FBI cap that you got him as a joke during your weekend trip to New York and he falters when you don’t even look at him. Maybe today isn’t the day. He thinks as he grabs his keys and gets into his car.

You sigh when you hear the car start up, looking down into eyes that you swear are Marcus’s. “Don’t worry.” You murmur softly. “It’s going to be okay.” You promise her, looking over at the tray he had left for you and wondering why he had put so much effort into it. It’s actually sweet and you wonder if it’s because he feels guilty. A last sweet gesture before he rips your heart out.

Marcus arrives at the jewelers, unable to believe the ring is finally ready. It's a ring he designed, wanting it to be extra special for you so it's taken longer than he anticipated. He wanted to propose to you on your third date but he promised himself that he would take it slow. After a year together, you found out you were pregnant and he didn't want to propose and have you think he was doing 'the right thing' so he waited again. Now, with Lily three months old, he is ready to propose. He is nervous, excited, but now he is wondering if you want to be with him. Perhaps you had stayed with him because you got pregnant. He hopes not because he absolutely adores you. You and Lily are his everything.

"Hey Marcus. Today's the big day, huh?" The jeweler asks with a smile. Marcus nods, greeting the older man who made the beautiful ring.

"Today is the day." He blows out a breath, unsure of himself now.

It’s only after Lily has finished eating and is happily bouncing in her seat that you realize today is Mother’s Day, not really hearing him before. Now you understand the breakfast, the reason that he was being so nice. Despite feeling like your heart is going to wither up and die when he breaks it, you will never lie and say that he doesn’t love your daughter. His daughter. He’s taken to fatherhood like a duck to water, commenting that it was all he ever wanted. Except maybe now that he has the baby, he doesn’t want the mother anymore. You huff angrily at that, shoving pancakes in your mouth and chewing them quickly. So what if you had a belly? You gave birth to his fucking ten pound baby. You’re entitled to that pooch and loose skin, damnit.

Marcus thanks the jeweler for his help, shaking his hand and accepting his good luck wishes. After the jewelers, Marcus goes to pick up the bottle of champagne he had bought to have engraved with the date you met, the date of your first date and what he hopes will be the date of your engagement. He quickly picks it up before heading to the dry cleaners to pick up his suits, hoping he can tell you it's just for his work suits. He then picks up the dessert he had ordered - your favorite - and he calls the restaurant to make sure they are going to deliver the food. He wants to do this at home with Lily. There's nowhere else he wants to be when he proposes. Finally, he arrives home, rushing through the house to hide the champagne after putting the dessert in the fridge outside.

After eating, you had basically gone on a rampage. Plucking your eyebrows and hissing in pain while you held a bag of frozen peas over them to get the swelling to go down before you painted your nails and even put makeup on. You feel almost normal and although you still can’t fit into your pre-baby jeans, there is a cute dress you bought while you were pregnant that you never got to wear and honestly? It looks damn good on you. It makes you want to send him a picture to remind him of what he’s giving up, but you don’t. Turning away from the mirror when you hear him downstairs.

Marcus's eyes widen when you come downstairs after putting Lily down for her nap. He can't believe how beautiful you look and he is happy you got dressed up as he is certain you'll want to look your best for your proposal. "Wow. Baby. You look - wow." He is lost for words, knowing he looks like an idiot with his mouth opening and closing while he stares at you. He wants to grab you and pull you in for a kiss but he has been reluctant to get too touchy with you, not wanting you to feel like he's pushing you to sex so soon after Lily.

You miss the way he used to touch you, possessively and eagerly. Like there was nothing more that he wanted to do than kiss you, or take you to bed. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “I just wanted to feel…normal I guess.” You huff, slightly embarrassed but not ready to confront him yet. He had texted her again right after he left the house. The woman he works with asking if today was the day and Marcus telling her it was. You wanted him to regret leaving you. You had to turn off the iPad again, your stomach rolling in disgust.

Marcus bites his lip, his heart pounding and he isn't sure how to get set up without making you suspicious. His saving grace comes when Lily starts to cry and it comes through the monitor. "I'll get her." He tells you, touching your arm as he passes you before going upstairs to Lily's nursery. "Come here Lilypad." He coos, picking her up and rocking her until she calms down. He rubs her back, checking that she is dry before he places her pacifier back in her mouth, gently laying her down in the crib.

His phone rings in his pocket and he hisses. "Shit." He pulls it out of his pocket, seeing Lucy's caller ID. "Hey Lucy." He smiles, keeping his voice low and completely forgetting about the baby monitor. "Yeah. Yeah. I, uh, I haven't done it yet. I'm nearly ready to go. Yes, so excited. I'm so ready. I was ready to do it before she got pregnant and now...now it's time since Lily is three months old. - I know, it's just - I don't know what she's gonna say. I'm nervous. Yeah. Yeah. I'll see you later. Okay. Thanks sweetie." He hangs up the phone, checking Lily is asleep again before he makes his way downstairs.

You are frozen in the kitchen, staring at the monitor in horror as all of your worst fears are confirmed in one phone call. Ready to go, yeah, you bet he is. Your fingernails dig into the back of the chair you had been about to sit in and you hear Marcus come down the stairs, a small tune being hummed like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Walking into the kitchen, Marcus frowns at how tense you seem to be. He doesn't know why. "Hey baby. I, uh, I have an idea. Why don't you go watch TV upstairs while Lily is napping and I'll tidy up down here." He gestures to the bottles and glasses that need to be cleaned. "Go relax. I can handle this." He says, placing his hand on your lower back.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You hiss, jerking away from him. You can’t take it anymore, unable to keep up with the charade after hearing that. “Just tell me that you’re leaving since you’ve wanted to do it before I got pregnant and go.” You turn around and pin in him with an angry stare. “Do it, Marcus. Do it so you can go be with your ‘sweetie’.”

He is shocked, reeling back, and his brow furrows. "What - what are you talking about?" He asks, his throat dry. Did you hear him talking to Lucy? "Baby, I- I don't understand. I'm leaving?" He asks, wanting you to explain this sudden outburst.

You snort, rolling your eyes at the shocked expression on his face. He needed to become an actor instead of an FBI agent. “Please.” You huff. “I’m not an idiot.” When he doesn’t say anything you sigh. “Your messages come across the iPad, Marcus. I saw them. How you don’t want me to get suspicious so she shouldn’t text you while your home. I couldn’t fucking look after that. I turned it off. And you just had a conversation in a room with a baby monitor.” Your eyes fill with tears and you try to choke back a sob. “You haven’t touched me since Lily was born and I get it, I’m not sexy and have ugly stretch marks. You don’t want me anymore.”

Marcus is even more confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” He shakes his head. He’s so confused. “Baby. I- I want you. All the goddamn time. I’m hard literally when you walk past me. Seeing you as a mother, it’s equally the hottest and most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He steps closer but you back up. “Please, sweetheart. You gotta believe me. It’s you. Only you. Always you. I only want you. I just - I didn’t want to push you after you had Lily. As for Lucy…she’s - she’s been helping me with something. A surprise for you and I didn’t want you to know about it. There’s nothing going on between us except that she’s my coworker and friend. I swear to you, I love you. I wouldn’t - I couldn’t - I couldn’t leave you even if I tried because I’m so in love with you.”

You bite your lip, unsure of what to believe. He sounds horrified and earnest, like he needs you to believe him. “I don’t know.” You admit, shaking your head. “I want to believe you but just tell me the truth.” You beg. “I don’t- if you don’t want to be with me, just - just be honest. I’m not going to keep Lily from you or be some bitter ex.” Wrapping your arms around yourself, you try to calm down and not let your hormones dictate your reactions. You know you are sensitive right now and you don’t want to be too forgiving or not understanding enough. “I told you I was cleared for sex and you still haven’t touched me. You hate my body don’t you? I get it, it’s not the same. I hate it too.”

Marcus shakes his head so hard he nearly gets whiplash. “No. No. Fuck, baby. No. The opposite. You have any idea how - how much you turn me on? Knowing that your body is strong enough to birth our little girl? It’s - Jesus. You get me hard as a rock every time you breastfeed her which is - which is weird - but just seeing you as a mother, knowing you gave birth to our daughter…it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I loved your body before, and I love your body now because it’s you. I just - I just didn’t want to push it when you only had her a few months ago. I wanted to let you tell me when you’re ready so I don’t push you before you want me to touch you. I didn’t want to be that asshole who demands his wife fucks him so soon after having a baby. Lily is your priority and I get that. Please…please don’t doubt my love for you. Please. Baby…I adore you. I fucking worship you. I would never cheat on you. I- I was going to - shit - I was going to propose. That’s what Lucy was helping me with.”

You cover your mouth, muffling a gasp as your eyes water again. Propose? He was going to propose to you? You honestly thought that he wasn’t going to, another thought that had pushed through your mind at the most inconvenient times. He had moved so fast with everyone else, and yet you were carrying his child and he never even mentioned anything beyond asking if Lily could have his last name. Part of you had just wondered if it was so he could put her on his health insurance easier. “You were?” You ask softly. “I- are you serious? You were going to-” You bite your lip, chin trembling. “I ruined it. I ruined everything and I - fuck, I’m so sorry.” You sob, breaking down again and covering your face in your hands.

Marcus reaches for your hands, pulling them away from your face. “Baby. Baby. Look at me. Please look at me.” He pleads, squeezing your hands as you cry. He hates seeing you cry. “You didn’t ruin anything. If anyone did, it’s me. I shouldn’t - I should’ve done this months ago but I didn’t want you to think it’s because you were pregnant. I wanted to propose so you’d know I was proposing because I love you, not because of the baby. I’m so sorry I haven’t made you feel like I - like I want to be with you. I’m sorry.” He leans closer to kiss your forehead, letting go of your hands so he can wipe your tears away with his thumbs as he cups your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, still feeling mortified and ashamed of the way that you had thought he was cheating on you. Or at least getting ready to leave you to be with another woman. “I just- I don’t feel like myself anymore, I have all these emotions I don’t know how to deal with and then- then the texts coming through.” You rush out to explain, feeling like you need to justify why you had doubted him. “S-she said she loved you. And I-“ you break off and take a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

Marcus pulls you into his arms, understanding that you are going through a lot. He can’t even imagine the adjustment to giving birth and being a mother. He has had his world turned upside down by the arrival of Lily so he can’t imagine how you feel. “I should’ve paid more attention to you. Reassured you that you are gorgeous and that I love you.” He kisses your hair, “I only love you. Only you. Only want you.” He promises, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. “Baby,” He leans away from you, “can I- would you mind going upstairs and pretending that you don’t know I’m going to propose so I can get everything set up. I still want to propose and I have everything planned to make it special. You go dry your eyes and relax and I’ll call you when I’m ready. That is - is if you want me to propose?” He asks, stomach twisting that maybe you don’t want him to propose.

You nod, surprised that he still wants to after your outburst. “I want you to.” You murmur softly. “I love you Marcus, so much.” It was why you had been devastated by the idea that he didn’t want you. You had imagined forever with him. “I’ll go upstairs.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips to his gently, apologizing for your behavior through the kiss.

“I’ll call you downstairs when I’m ready.” He murmurs, pecking your lips again before he brings your hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. He doesn’t blame you. He’s been secretive and he knows you’ve been suspicious but he thought the surprise would’ve outweigh the secrecy. He quickly gets everything ready like he planned. Grabbing the roses and placing them in vases around the room, lighting the candles before he gets changed in the downstairs bathroom into his suit, cleaning up and exhaling shakily when he puts the ring box in his pocket. The doorbell rings and he opens the door, thanking the delivery driver for the takeout from your favorite restaurant and he lays the table, putting everything on plates and pouring a glass of wine for you, saving the champagne for later. “Okay baby. You can come down now.” He calls out to you, hoping Lily will continue napping for a while. He saw you feed and change her when she woke up about twenty minutes ago so he’s hoping he gets some time with you.

You cleaned up, reapplied makeup while you were upstairs, trying to figure out how you would make up your blunder to Marcus. Slowly coming downstairs, your eyes widen when you see how he’s transformed the space. “Marcus.” You whisper breathlessly, finding him looking handsome and so very sexy in his best suit, the blue one that you think makes his eyes look even darker. It’s cut to emphasize his broad shoulders and you remember the first time he had worn it, attending a wedding with you, ironically enough. You couldn’t wait to peel it off of him that night. You bite your lip and look around. “What’s all this?” You ask, playing along with the idea that you don’t know what he is doing. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

"I absolutely had to do all of this baby. It's all for you. I wanted to show you what you mean to me. How much I adore you. Come, sit down. I got your favorite from the Italian down the street." He says, taking your hand to guide you over to the table. He is happy you seem to be playing along and acting like your fight never happened. He wants to do this right. He pulls the chair out for you, pushing you in before he lifts the covers on the food and sits opposite you. He picks up his wine glass once he is settled, "to us." He toasts, wanting this moment to be about you and him as the couple you started out as. Not you and him as the parents you have become.

“To us.” You smile and lift your glass to touch it to his before you take a sip. “Oh, wine….” You groan at the first taste of the fruity, dry red. It has been since you found out you were pregnant that you have had wine. Your eyes flutter closed in pleasure as you take another sip and let the liquid sit on your tongue before you swallow it. “I have plenty of milk stored in the fridge for Lily tonight.” You hum, knowing you will have to throw away whatever you produce tonight.

Marcus nods, proud of how you’ve taken to being a mother. It’s been incredible to watch. “Dig in.” He orders, “before it gets cold.” You pick up the fork, digging into the pasta, and he tries to slow down how fast he eats. He’s been nervous all day so he hasn’t eaten anything because of it. “Good? I, uh, I got your favorite dressert too.” He says, wanting to make sure this is all about you.

You soften even more, sending him a smile that shows how appreciative you are. “It’s delicious.” You promise. “You are spoiling me, breakfast this morning and now this.” You reach over to take his hand, rubbing the back of it with your thumb. “Thank you.” Now that you know what is going on, you are excited to see how he proposes. What he says. Eager for reassurances that he loves you. That need for comfort is slightly desperate but it’s what you need right now.

Marcus waits until you've finished eating and he places the dirty plates in the sink to deal with later. Serving up the desert, he places it in front of you and clears his throat when he kneels down beside the kitchen table. "Sweetheart. You are - you are the woman I have waited a lifetime for. I'm a hopeless romantic, always searching for my princess, and I have kissed many frogs." He chuckles, reaching for your hand. "You were worth waiting for. You make me happy. Every. Single. Day. You've made my house a home, given me a beautiful daughter. I just - there are not enough words to describe how much I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you in this house, having more babies and getting old. Well, older." He teases, pointing at himself. "I love you and - and I have something to ask you." He lets go of your hand, fumbling as he tries to get the box out of his jacket. Eventually, he opens it to reveal the ring. "Will you marry me?" He asks, his chest heaving slightly as his heart pounds.

You stare at the ring for a moment, even though you knew this was coming, it’s still overwhelming you. Glancing back at his soft, anxious eyes, you nod as your own fill with happy tears. “Yes, Marcus, yes!” You cry, lunging forward and cupping his cheeks while you press your lips to his. “Yes. I love you.” You murmur, happy when he wraps his arm around you and you open up, letting his tongue slide into your mouth.

He slides his tongue against yours, unable to believe you said yes. Pulling back after a few moments, he clumsily takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto your left hand. “Perfect.” He grins, holding your hand. “Do you like it?” He asks.

You look down at the ring, admiring the details and nod quickly. “It’s gorgeous.” You squeal, realizing that it’s not the standard engagement ring. It is perfect because Marcus picked it out for you. “I love it. I’m never going to take it off.”

“I, uh, designed it for you. I wanted it to be special. For my girl.” He says, “it has our initials in it along with Lily’s.” He kisses the back of your hand before he stands up, grinning and so so happy that you accepted his proposal. “I love you, sweetheart. Only you.” He promises, bending over to kiss you softly.

A small, happy sigh bubbles out of you as you stand too. “I love you too.” You promise, reaching up and caressing his cheek gently before you wrap your arm around the back of his neck and pull him closer for another kiss. “You and Lily are everything to me.” You confess. “It’s why I was so- well, you know.” You feel your face heat up with embarrassment and you have to look away, remembering how you had accused him of something so far out of his personality.

Marcus tuts, pressing his lips to yours, “no baby. I- I should’ve - it wasn’t right that I got Lucy so involved. I was just so nervous and I didn’t want you to be suspicious, but I didn’t think that you’d be suspicious of me having an affair. Never. Never. You and Lily are everything to me. Everything I’ve ever wanted. I don’t want a long engagement. I want to marry you as soon as possible.” He murmurs, kissing your upper lip.

You hum in agreement, knowing you don’t really care about a lavish wedding. Maybe just something at the courthouse. All you care about is being Marcus’s wife. “I’m sorry.” You apologize again. “She's so gorgeous and fit and I’m- post baby body.” You huff slightly. “I don’t think my postpartum is helping things either.”

Nodding in understanding, his hands slide along your waist, “baby. I think you look gorgeous but I understand. Do you - do you want to talk to someone? I know I am busy at work and you’re here - we can find someone who does online sessions?” He suggests softly, not wanting you to feel like he is pushing it, but he wants you to know he wants to help.

“I- that would be good.” You nod, feeling relieved that he’s not ignoring that you aren’t acting like yourself. You lean into him and breathe him in, smiling at the smell of his cologne. You’ve always loved this scent on him since the two of you picked it out together on your second date. “Thank you for understanding.” You bite your lip and move a little closer to him, pressing yourself against him. It’s been nearly three and a half months since you’ve had sex, felt him inside you. “Marcus….” You murmur softly.

His heart thumps and he knows what you need. He inhales sharply and his hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you closer. “I’ve missed this. I didn’t want to make you feel pressured so I didn’t - I stayed away but baby…I want you.” He murmurs, nudging his nose along your jaw before kissing below your earlobe. “I miss the taste of your pussy. I want to taste you again.” His voice is raspy, coated with desire.

You moan, cunt clenching as it remembers just how good his tongue is. He’s always managed to make you cum on that tongue, buried inside you or flicking against your clit. “Don’t stay away anymore.” You beg, sliding your hands under his jacket and around his back. “I need to feel like you want me. That you still find me sexy.” You admit, voicing things that probably should have been said weeks ago. “I want to cum on my fiancé’s cock.” You moan.

He groans into your ear, kissing down your neck, and he walks you backwards towards the sofa, knowing he won’t be able to make it up the stairs. One hand dips under your dress, caressing your thighs, and the other reaches for the zipper on your back to pull it down. He makes quick work of removing your dress, leaving you in your underwear. His lips kiss down your neck to your chest, lathing his tongue over the swell of your breasts. His cock is pressed against his slacks but this isn’t about him, this is about you. His eyes look up to you as he sucks on your nipple through the nursing bra.

“Marcus!” You gasp out in shock at how different it feels from Lily’s tiny mouth, but your fingers burrow into his hair to hold him into place. He had joked about drinking from you when you were pregnant but when he hadn’t shown an interest after you actually produced milk, you had once again taken it as a sign that he didn’t want you anymore. Feeling some milk dribble out at the suction, you moan, hoping it doesn’t ruin the moment. “Sorry.” You whimper. “They’re full.”

He growls, “no. Don’t apologize. I’ve been wanting to taste you since your milk came in.” He confesses, not even blushing as he begins to suckle. Groaning when a spurt of milk escapes your tit and floods his mouth. He groans, his arms wrapping around you as he suckles harder and drinks some of the milk, switching to the other breast while he fumbles to unclasp your bra.

Your whimper is both relieved and aroused, looking down and watching him suck. “Baby.” You tug on his hair and are rewarded with his own groan against your nipple. “Oh god.” It’s so different from feeding your daughter, this makes your cunt clench and floods with arousal. “Oh fuck baby, h-how does it taste?”

“Fucking good.” Marcus groans, pulling back so he can pull your bra off of your arms. He surges back into your chest, taking the sensitive nipple back into his mouth as his hand slides down your side. Sinking into your panties so he can rub your clit, he doesn’t want to go too much too soon in case you are sensitive.

Whining, your hips jerk up, chasing his fingers and trying to push them down to where you want them, inside you. This is perfect, you aren’t thinking about your stretch marks or the loose skin on your stomach. Instead you are thinking about his mouth, his fingers, the hard cock that is pushed against your thigh. “Fuck baby, inside.” You beg, wanting him to finger you like he used to when you were on the couch watching movies.

He withdraws his fingers, making you whine, but he guides you back towards the sofa. “Come on baby. Sit down for me.” He orders, guiding you back towards the couch and he pulls your panties down just before you sit down. Spreading your legs, he kneels between them and leans in to kiss along your inner thighs. “So fucking beautiful.” He curses, nipping and sucking as he gets closer to your core. You whine with impatience and he doesn’t have the heart to deny you anymore. He slides his tongue through your folds, flicking your clit a few times before repeating the action.

“Marcus!” You lurch forward at the feeling of his tongue before you flop back against the cushions again. “Oh god baby, I-I’ve missed this.” You pant, reaching down and stroking his head. The last time you had done this, you couldn’t see him because of the baby bump and now you see the dark curls on his head while he feasts on you. “Fuck.” You spit, gasping out when he sucks on your clit for a second before he lets it go.

He doesn’t stop, his fingers digging into your thighs as he keeps them spread open. His tongue delves deep inside of you while his nose presses against your clit. Your tangy taste - the very taste he’s missed so dearly - makes him groan into your flesh. He wants you to cum, needs to make sure that tonight, you know there is no one else for him. Only you for the rest of his life.

God, he’s fucking talented with that tongue. Your eyes roll back as your hips chase it. Lifting when he pulls back slightly before diving in again. He’s thorough, having learned exactly what you like and uses it against you ruthlessly. Tongue swiping over your clit again and again with his nose pressed against your curls, not bothered by the fact that you’ve not waxed or trimmed in forever.

Marcus’s fingers caress your thighs and he shifts to push two fingers inside of you. Pulling away from you for a moment to check as he pushes the digits into you. He doesn’t want you to hurt but when you throw your head back and moan in pleasure, he dives back in to suck on your clit.

“Oh fuuuuuuuck.” You cry, gripping his fingers tight when he pushes them against the spot that drives you crazy. Since having the baby, you haven’t even fingered yourself and his thick fingers are incredible. “Oh shit baby, fuck, harder.” You beg, needing to cum before the baby wakes up.

He pumps his fingers into you, desperate for you to cum around them. His groan vibrates your clit as he sucks hard. His cock is throbbing, he missed this. Hearing your moans and cries, it’s been something he’s thought about when he jerks off in the shower, feeling guilty that he can’t get you off.

“Marc-“ you cut yourself off with a strangled cry, air trapped in your body as it tenses up. Heat and lightning flash through your veins and you swear your vision blacks out for a moment while your cunt contracts around his fingers. Trembling in pleasure while he works you through it, keening whimpers coming from you with every twitch of your body.

He works you through it, loving hearing you cry out in pleasure. He’s so happy to hear it after so long. “That’s it. Good girl. Good girl, baby.” He says, resting his cheek on your thigh so he can work you through it with his fingers, your fingers still tugging on his hair.

“Wow.” You give a small chuckle, amazed at how good you feel after that orgasm. You know you aren’t magically cured by cumming, but you are a hell of a lot more relaxed. Looking down on him with a smile, you let go of his hair to reach for his tie, still on in his haste to make you cum. “Marcus, fuck me.” You beg, needing him inside you.

He swallows, shrugging off his jacket, and tugging off his tie to toss them across the room. “Baby. You want me to get a condom?” He asks as he stands up to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his pants before he works on unbuttoning his shirt. He curses his decision to wear his best suit, he has far too many layers on.

“No.” You pant breathlessly, squirming on the sofa and holding your legs open in anticipation. He’s undressing too slowly for you, so you sit up and cup him before you hook your fingers into his briefs and drag them down so that his cock springs free. God, you’ve missed this, seeing him hard and wanting you. You wrap your fingers around him while he rips the shirt off and smirk before you duck your head and wrap your lips around the leaking tip, moaning at the taste of him.

Marcus hisses, the feel of your hot mouth making his hips jerk forward, but he doesn’t want your mouth. Not now. “Shit baby. Don’t. Don’t want this to be over too soon.” He murmurs, shifting to kneel on the sofa, and he gently grabs you to lay you down. He wants you to be comfortable. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, trailing his hands along your stomach and your sides until he gently squeezes your breasts. “And all mine.” He smiles, shuffling closer until he can notch his cock at your entrance.

You fold your arms over your stomach, hiding the stretched and discolored skin from where you had developed stretch marks during the nine months you carried Lily. You don’t like them, even with the way that Marcus looks down at you, tender adoration in his eyes. You moan, loving how he stretches you out when he pushes inside you. Your nails dig into his skin and you look up at him. “Marcus.” You whimper. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Please don’t hide from me. Never hide yourself from me. I love you. Every. Single. Part. Of. You. You are beautiful, all of you. I am so, so lucky to have you.” He murmurs, shifting to hover over you so he can kiss along your neck. He begins to move inside of you, his hand grabbing yours to pull it away from your stomach.

You are too busy feeling his thick cock pulse inside you to care about your stomach after he starts thrusting. Lifting up your legs to loosely wrap around his thighs and pulling him closer. Moaning loudly and praying that Lily doesn’t wake up before you can cum again. “I love you.” You whimper, catching sight of your new engagement ring on your hand where it is holding onto his shoulder. “I love you so much.”

He notices your gaze and twists his head to kiss your hand, starting to rock into you. He wants to feel you cum around him. “Is this okay baby? Am I hurting you?” He asks, not wanting to hurt you after not being inside of you for a while and after you’ve given birth. “No. No. I'm okay.” You respond breathily, making him nod as he thrusts a little deeper. Your cunt feels like molten heat around his cock, gripping him, and he has to try and think of something else so he isn’t cumming in a few thrusts like a teenager .

Moans and whimpers fill the space between you. Every thrust into you feels like pure bliss. Sex between you and Marcus had always been good, even while you were pregnant with Lily and had to get creative with positions for your growing bump. Lifting your head, you press your lips to his while your hips match his rhythm, making him push deeper inside you.

“Jesus baby. Need - need you to cum before I do.” He pleads, reaching between you to rub your clit. He hisses when your walls flutter around him. He rocks into you, needing you to cum. “Please baby. Cum for me.” He pleads, leaning down to kiss your neck.

It doesn’t take long, just five or six thrusts combined with the rubbing of his fingers for you to fall apart for him. Crying out softly and clenching down around him while pleasure floods your body and you feel the rush of wetness coat his cock.”Oh M-Marcus!”

He loves how you cry his name. Rocking into you to work you through it, and he hisses when you grip him hard. “Fuck baby. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum. Can I- can I cum inside of you?” He asks, wanting to make sure you are comfortable. He doesn’t want to assume since this is the first time since Lily was born.

You moan and nod. “Yes.” You pant out, “I- I got an IUD when I went back to the doctor for my check up.” You promise him, not wanting him to think you would try to get pregnant so quickly after Lily. “Want to feel you fill me up.”

“God baby. I’m gonna - shit. I love you so much. So fucking much. Oh. Oh. Oh - oh fuck.” He grunts, pushing into you with a groan as he paints your walls with his seed, feeling connected to you in the best way possible.

You whine, loving how hot his cum feels inside you, rocking your hips up while he rides out his high and feeling it start to push out. Stroking his back when he finally groans one last time and turns to press his lips to yours. “I love you.” You whisper against his lips, loving how he collapses on top of you and both of you try to catch your breath.

He kisses your jaw, trying to keep his weight off of you as he shifts to lay down beside you on the sofa. “I love you baby. There’s only you. Only you. I love you. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” He says, kissing your hair as he pulls you into his chest, his softening cock still inside of you.

“Are you sure you want to put up with my crazy?” You joke quietly, still embarrassed that he had been putting together this amazing moment for you and you had been such a bitch, accusing him of cheating on you.

“Always. I want you for the rest of my life. You’re so good to me. Like I said, I waited a long time for you, baby. I’m not gonna let you go. You and Lily are my life. I love you. Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck.

“It is the third best day of my life.” You promise him. “The first one being the day Lily was born, the second being the day I met you and then today.” You smile, happy that despite the fact that today had started out rocky and you thought you were going to lose your boyfriend, Mother’s Day is now the day that you promised to become Marcus’s wife.

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autumnslance · 8 months

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FFXIV Write 2023 Day 11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

“We’re almost to the test site Mikoto’s marked,” Dark Autumn said, checking the map.

Iyna peeked around the corner of the ruins, scanning for hostiles. “Good. It’s too damn quiet out here, it’s making my ears twitch.”

“They do that anyway,” C’oretta pointed out.

“You know what I mean.”

“Quiet,” Dark admonished, taking point, bow in hand. The trio crept across the wartorn fields of the Bozjan southern front. Dark wondered once again what it might have looked like before the disaster and more recent rebellions, her forestborn sensibilities mourning for the land and its creatures as much as for the people. This was one of those times she was glad to not be able to hear the elements of the world and how they must feel in places like this.

They reached the location the archon had indicated, C’oretta deploying the device and checking back with Lilja and Mikoto via linkpearl, the trio’s excited scientific babble far too much for Dark to follow. That was an unexpected trio of overly intelligent energy that left her and Iyna, not to mention the Bozjan leadership, utterly exhausted, but they certainly got their results.

It could be worse, she supposed. They could add Aeryn to the mix. But the Warrior of Light was off trying to rescue the Scions from whatever was happening, and Twelve only knew when she’d return.

“OK we’re good to go,” C’oretta said. “They’re getting the readings now and should have some data for us when we get back.”

“If you say so,” Dark said. “Let’s…where’s Iyna?”

C’oretta’s ears went flat and her tail stiffened as she looked around. The viera was nowhere in sight. “She can’t have gone far but I don’t know why she would have wandered off that isn’t like her.”

They exchanged a look, the betrayal still fresh in their minds. It was hard to believe that of Iyna, given her time in Lente’s Tears, but they honestly knew so little of her—and like Misija she had been raised by Garleans.

Dark caught Iyna’s track and they crept along, though they didn’t have to go far. Around another ruined building corner only a few yalms away, Iyna stood very still, staring at something they couldn’t see.

“Iyna?” Dark kept her voice very quiet.

“Go back,” Iyna replied in a nearly voiceless whisper. “I saw movement coming our way, went to check, realized too late what it was, and now I am just waiting for it to get bored. Or at least realize I’m not a threat as I think this ruin might unfortunately be its nest.”

C’oretta frowned, took out a mirror, and held it out to where she could see around the corner and past Iyna. The little miqo’te paled. “Oh we should do what she says very carefully quietly and quickly let’s go Dark,” she whispered.

Dark began backing up, keeping an eye out in case whatever it was came around the building the other way, or had friends. Or for anything else that was out there.

C’oretta’s mirror must have caught the light when she pulled it away, as there came from around the wall a too familiar slow, throaty warning wark.

“Fuck,” Iyna said. “Run!”

C’oretta used her Scholarly skills to speed them along to outrun the red chocobo’s meteor strikes.

Dark would take this mad dash from an angry avian over going through that particular heartbreak again.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2023 #Lyn Writing #Bozjan Southern Front #Save the Queen #Dark Autumn #Iyna Cauld #C'oretta Khell #Iyna only joined the gang during the Ivalice story & the start of Bozja in my 'verse starts during 5.0

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The Odd Couples

Hi, tumblrs! I’m back with yet another AU of one of my favorite AUs: it’s the DC gang, paired differently.

(I know I haven’t written anything DC AU-related in a long ass five minutes, and I swear Chapter 6 of the original series is practically ready to post, just needs a deep-dive edit)

So, this story is the product of two separate ideas: First, what if I hadn’t followed canon/fanon/personal head canons when pairing the couples up/off? And the second idea comes from the What If episode of Friends where that gang ends up with someone different (Phoebe x Ross, Monica x Joey, Rachel x Chandler).

Side note: Using throwback DC crew (Liam, Riley, Max, Leo, Liv, Drake, Madeleine, and Penelope). Also, check out the link to Leo’s shirt (if you make it that far). It’s the Leo-est shirt ever IMHO)

Side Note 2: Mixing the pairings up means I have/will be writing pairings that others write/have written and are generally associated with said writer(s). While I am fully aware that no one owns ships, I realize this is a fandom and strive to be mindful of those who write rareships and respect their pairings.

This is simply my take on my version of these characters when coupled differently in my world.

To those who read over this story in parcels, pieces, and in whole ...THANK YOU!

For those who do read this fic, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. Microsoft Editor rates this piece as 99% error free.

I’ll be back sooner rather than later with a submission for Hana Lee Appreciation Week, an angsty Driam/Riley love triangle, and some Stormholt.

Song Inspo: Moments We Live For (Acoustic Version), In Paradise

Word Count: 4,099

Pairings: SGL x Olivia; Drake x Madeleine; Leo x Riley B; Max x Penelope

Rating: M for Mature themes

SGL x Liv

Liam Rys tipsily followed Olivia Nervakis into the hotel room, hip-checking the door to shut it while Olivia occasionally paused her steps to turn on table lamps. Her black stiletto heels made no noise against the carpet; however, the swish of her highly starched black and white polka-dotted dress sounded scratchy in the silent room.

“Do you have to turn on every light?” Liam complained as he fastened the deadbolt.

“It’s not every light, and not our electric bill,” his girlfriend responded tartly as she flipped yet another switch.

The couple was in Baltimore for the weekend, attending a costume party thrown by Liv’s employer. There had been a buffet; an open bar; and a prize for the best costume, which Liam and Olivia did not win. Carlos Santiago, a member of the Environmental Services team, and his wife and three children came costumed as The Birds and The Bees and won the prize.

Liam and Liv were The Ricardos: Olivia’s red hair was done up in Lucy’s signature poodle hairstyle, and her dress was a dead ringer for the world’s most famous housewife’s iconic frock. He had wanted to wear a tuxedo and carry a conga drum but settled for Ricky’s purple, polka dot silk smoking jacket with shawl collar, black pants, and black velvet slippers.

“I can’t believe we didn’t win!” Liam muttered beneath his breath as he came behind Olivia, arms encircling her waist; his palms splayed against her flat, toned stomach. She responded by leaning against him, her back pressed against his chest.

“Don’t hate!” she admonished. “With those Korean features and Boston accent, no way were you a convincing Cuban band leader. Besides, you have to admit Carlos had a pretty creative idea.”

“Not more creative than my SOCK GAME! I mean, Liv … you gotta admit, it’s damn good tonight!”

He was wearing black, knee-length socks with red hearts inscribed with “I Love Lucy” scattered all over. Olivia rolled her eyes in exasperation at the mention of his sock game.

This man and his socks! Liam thought his sock game could cure cancer and bring about world peace.

“You’re sock game is great as it always is, darling. But it was a costume contest,” Olivia placated in a soothing tone as his fingers began removing bobby pins from her hair.

She spun around, facing her boyfriend as her hair fell in soft curls that framed her face. Her green eyes twinkled as she pressed a quick kiss against his lips.

“You big, spoiled baby,” she teased. “Wanna smoke, take the edge off? I brought a couple of blunts along.”

He quickly shook his head. “No way am I going to be in BALTIMORE off some loud.”

Olivia grabbed the lapels of Liam’s smoking jacket, pulling him closer to her. The tip of her tongue swiped his lower lip. “Makes sense,” she agreed.

Liam pressed his palms against her ass cheeks; he sang softly in her ear as he swayed his hips against hers.

And life is heaven, you see 'Cause I love Lucy, yes I love Lucy And Lucy Loves me!

“My name’s Liv”, Olivia corrected with a giggle as she gently wriggled out of Liam’s embrace. “C’mon, let’s get ready for bed,” she urged as she headed for the bathroom.

Liam stuck out his tongue at her retreating back before glancing around the room. It was a typical hotel room, nothing really standing out or making it different from any other room.

The door that led to the balcony was all glass with a brass doorknob; the hotel promised a 360◦ view of the city’s famed Harbor from the patio. The couple planned to have breakfast there in the morning.

There was a workstation; a large, wall-mounted television; coffee maker and microwave; and the bed: queen-sized, four-poster, and centered against the back wall.

His eyes widened when he saw the wall to the side of the bed. It was covered floor to ceiling, and side to side with a … mirror.

Well, that was different.

Liam approached the bed, kicking off his slippers as he went; he stared curiously at his reflection before climbing atop the bed and resting on his haunches. He then lay on his back, turning his head to continue staring at his reflection.

He impatiently pushed his hair off his forehead before rolling over onto his stomach; pressing his palms against the bedcovers, Liam pushed himself up with his arms, still watching himself. He imagined Liv beneath him, her pale legs scissored across his back as they watched themselves.

This could be fun.

“LIVVY!” he yelled excitedly over the sound of water running in the sink. “There’s a MIRROR! On the WALL! By the BED!”

The water turned off; Olivia sauntered into the room; her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, damp ends of her hair curling, and wearing a red lace bra with matching panties. A sultry smirk curved her lips.

Liam caught sight of her in the mirror’s reflection, and visibly gulped. Liv only wore matching underwear when they were going to have sex.

“Ai yi yi yi”, he muttered as he bounded off the bed and hastily divested himself of the smoking jacket.

Olivia was now standing directly in front of Liam; after guiding him to the other side of the bed, directly against the wall so he could see them both in the mirror, her red-tipped fingernails trailed a path from his throat to his belt buckle before unfastening the belt. She slid to her knees, pulling the pants zipper down with her teeth. Her eyes looked up at Liam.

“Care to hear me do some ‘splaining?” she purred as her hand reached inside the opening and pulled his cock out.

Liam never answered; he was too busy staring at Liv’s reflection as her mouth swallowed his manhood.

Drake x Madeleine

“Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue,” Madeleine demanded.

Drake’s chocolate brown eyes stared up at her before raking over her body, his gaze settling on her chest. “Take off your shirt,” he countered.

Madeleine exhaled a frustrated sigh that fluttered her bangs as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Damnit, Drake! You’re sick, and I need to take your temperature to make sure the meds are working.”

Quickly covering his mouth, Drake Walker let out a series of deep, wet coughs that rattled the congestion in his chest.

“They aren't”, he rasped as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Tits would help. For sure.”

With a horrified look, Madeleine hastily grabbed and thrusted a bottle of hand sanitizer in his face. “WIPE!”

Rolling his eyes, Drake took the bottle; he then complied with his girlfriend’s first request. He slathered the disinfectant over his hands while Madeleine inserted a thermometer under his tongue.

His temperature was 102◦; two degrees lower than it had been three hours ago. Uneasy relief washed over Madeleine’s features.

“You should take the meds on a full stomach. You hungry?”

Drake turned onto his side, adjusting the pillows beneath his head as he did so. “Not really, but we both know you’re gonna harp on it until I give in. I think I have some canned soup in one of the kitchen cabinets.”

Madeleine nodded absently as she stepped into the bathroom to run the instrument under hot water in an attempt to kill the cooties her boyfriend more than likely transferred onto it. She heard Drake’s question when she turned the water off.

“When are you giving up that broom closet you’re living in to move in with me?”

“Don’t start,” Madeleine warned with a shake of her head as she re-entered the bedroom.

“Start what? You’re paying $1300 a month to RENT A ROOM! You could move in here with me and pay HALF that and it would be a whole ass apartment! You could start saving, pay down that credit card debt of yours …”

“I prefer to have my own, Drake!”

Madeleine’s boyfriend rolled his eyes. “You HAVE your own RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW! Clothes! Shoes! Makeup! Oat milk! And if we’re talking preferences, I prefer to wake up with you in my bed every morning. I prefer to glare and glower at you from across the room when we argue instead of sitting on the phone in awkward silence. I prefer to not have to wait for make-up sex!”

Madeleine shifted uncomfortably, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the carpet. Her green eyes peeked up to sneak a glance at Drake, whose bleary eyes stared at her with a mixture of frustration and hopefulness. His fingers idly played in his chest hair.

“Why won’t you just accept this greatness?” he huffed accusingly.

Madeleine rolled her eyes in a here we go again way.

She and Drake were in love with each other. They were the odd couple of the group: The WASP and the Blue-Collar Worker, but they fit each other like a glove. Most of the time.

Cohabitation should have been the next logical step in their relationship.

Madeleine found it nice to come to his U Street apartment after work and find him cooking them dinner while she mixed killer cocktails to help them unwind from their day.

Or for her to be the first one awake and cook them breakfast, making sure to prepare the thick-cut bacon he liked, and brew the dark-roast coffee that was his favorite before sharing morning-breath kisses.

Drake making sure Madeleine had the apricot and cream body wash that cost a small fortune, and high thread count Egyptian cotton towels she insisted upon for her showers.

While their relationship was highly sexual, it was not sexually based. There were debates and discussions covering a gambit from international events and politics to cooking meats with mustard. The only thing they could never agree on was music: Madeleine was a Swiftie, and Drake was 70s rock and country. They shared a love of exercise and the outdoors; weekends usually found them taking day trips to Shenandoah to hike the trails, snacking on the beef jerky Drake loved and Madeleine tolerated.

But people broke up all the time … over the most minute and ridiculous things. And Madeleine knew she could be an anal-retentive pill most of the time. She wasn’t going to be heartbroken and house hunting if things went south with Drake.

Madeleine had been instilled from an early age that God blessed the child that had their own.

“I’m not going to be that chick if we don’t work out," she stated in a small but firm voice as she sat at the foot of the bed; close enough to show support and comfort, far enough away to maybe being in a germ-free zone.

“You’re saying that after I just asked you to move in with me for the 100th time?” Drake huffed before another coughing fit overtook him.

While Drake hacked up a lung, Madeleine looked around the bedroom, wondering if he had any masks around. The couple locked eyes briefly, chocolate fastened on emerald.

“You could dump me at Target or something!” she countered as she alternated between awkwardly patting his back and scooting further away from him.

When the coughing subsided, Drake pointed to the nightstand on Madeleine’s side of the bed.

“Masks. Bottom drawer.”

Drake knew her.

“As for dumping you, you don’t shop at Target; it’d have to be Macy’s.”

So well.

Leo x Riley B.

Leo Rys hefted an oversized, too-full sriracha red snapper taco in both hands before greedily biting into it. He let out a low grunt of satisfaction as flavors and spices exploded over his tongue and crumbles of taco shell fell onto his plate.

Saturday afternoons couldn’t get much better than this: wearing his most comfortable shirt; hanging with his girlfriend Riley Brooks, who was his favorite person in the world; and lunch at his new favorite eatery, Tia Maria Tacos. Bonus: they had scored an upstairs window booth that overlooked the Potomac River.

Normally for the pair, Saturdays were for sleeping in and being lazy; 24 hours of partial nudity and horizontal positions suited them just fine after clocking out of work on a Friday afternoon. Especially if they had worked a full week.

But Riley had been in a funk lately; she had been to five job interviews over the past month; good interviews, where she had been a top-two contender. However, that hadn’t been good enough. Riley had been passed over every time, for each job.

Requests for feedback had not been helpful; hiring managers told her they couldn’t go wrong regardless of who they chose for the position. Riley’s ego was bruised, her esteem low. Despite her having a job that she had worked for the past 10 years ... a job she did damn well ... she was now comparing herself to Penelope, for Chrissakes.

Leo knew he had to do something, so he planned Date Day.

They began at Lincoln’s Waffle House for breakfast followed by a couples’ massage in Cleveland Park. Riley wanted to visit a tarot shop; Leo was agreeable. They both got readings, and she purchased a deck of tarot cards along with a strand of chakra beads.

From there they went to Georgetown, navigating the crowds and perusing shops. A French bakery was offering a European tea meal; Riley looked at Leo with hopeful eyes that quickly filled with dismay at his emphatic refusal. An hour later, laden with bags from a vintage clothing shop, a sex store, and a spice-filled storefront, they decided they were hungry; Leo suggested tacos.

He took a long swallow from his bottle of beer, his gaze fixed on Riley who had a plate filled key lime shrimp, Korean BBQ, and spicy chicken tacos, along with a serving of nacho fries. She felt his gaze and looked up to smile at him before taking a healthy bite of the shrimp taco.

Her eyes widened with surprise before closing in bliss.

“Hmmmmmm, this is soooooo good, Leo! I mean, it ain’t Chinese food but still like, hella good! Thank you for suggesting this place!” she said around a mouthful of food.

“Anytime, boo,” he replied with a wink as he reached into her plate for fries covered in nacho cheese and seasoned ground beef.

“And thank you for cheering me up today. It’s the reminder I needed that the Universe is just doing what it does, and all those hiring managers are just bitches and heifers.”

Leo dragged his fork through seasoned beans and rice. “They weren’t the jobs for you,” he assured her. “YOU are smart, funny, kind, and the greatest asset any person or job can have, and the right organization will recognize that. Not to mention you’re fucking gorgeous, and do you have any idea how hot you are?”

Riley bit into the spicy chicken taco, and quickly took a sip of her Sierra Mist with lemon. She nodded at Leo. “How hot I am? Yeah, I know ... and the answer is not very.”

Leo chuckled as he shook his head. This woman.

He and Riley were the couple that were never supposed to be. Both had had extremely bad luck with love, resulting in deeply rooted trust issues; the issues were more prevalent on Riley’s end than Leo’s.

They were both ambiverts, which loosely translated meant that there was no guarantee that plans made at 10am would still be in effect at 5pm. And you couldn’t be angry about it.

Physically, neither was the other’s type. Leo was a touch too lanky and fit for the buxom Riley; for Leo, Riley had a few too many inches in height, and was a tad curvier than he was used to. They met via Tinder, and it was supposed to be a one-night stand.

But their chemistry was off the charts.

But the sex was too good.

But their pillow talk left them curious to know more about each other while fully clothed.

Long story short … she kept him wild, and he kept her safe.

Before Leo could reassure his girlfriend that she was indeed VERY hot, her eyes trained on someone at a table near the back wall; they narrowed in anger as she tossed her food onto her plate while muttering, “What the actual FUCK?”

Leo looked around puzzled, wondering WHO happened. Because with Riley, it was never a what. If he could change two things about his woman, it would be her incredible grudge-holding talents and her penchant for public confrontation.

Only one table in the far corner was occupied. A Latina, facing them, was excitedly showing off one of her purchases to her male companion; Leo squinted, determining that the girl was proudly displaying a pair of earrings.

He swung back around, a look of confusion on his face. “Who are we hating on here?”

Riley dramatically pointed her index finger at the Latina. “HER! She told me I was a SHOO-IN for that freaking job!! AND THEN WENT WITH SOMEONE ELSE!”

Leo looked even more confused. “Which job? There were five of them!”

Riley didn’t answer. She was too busy scowling at the woman across the room while alternating between shaking her fist and making symbols with her fingers.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

“Throwing gang signs!”

“DC DOESN’T HAVE GANGS!” Leo argued.

“IT DOES NOW!!”

So much for a peaceful outing and letting the Universe do its thing.

Maxwell x Penelope

“I cannot believe you right now, Pen!” Maxwell Beaumont seethed as he rubbed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

The Communications and Marketing Director inhaled and exhaled deeply, slowly. It was rare that anyone or anything upset Maxwell, much less angered him; but if anyone could knock him off his equilibrium, for certain it was his girlfriend, Penelope.

His girlfriend stared at him with her wide, pansy-blue eyes before quickly licking her pink-glossed lips. She ran slender, pale fingers through her black hair, then tightened the belt of her pink silk robe. Penelope outstretched her arm, her fingertips grazing the fabric of her boyfriend’s shirt; at his look of frustrated rage, she quickly pulled her hand back.

“Max,” she began in her breathy voice, “I know you’re upset with me, but I HAD to leave that godawful job! The commute sucked and who knew data entry was so … exacting? It’s a miracle I lasted as long as I did!”

By the time she finished her explanation, her hands were gesticulating wildly about, and her tone of voice had become a shriek.

Maxwell turned his back on Penelope to go into their kitchen; still hot Italian food sat on the stove, wrapped in plastic bags. He hollered at her while he began unpacking what was supposed to be a celebratory dinner for Penelope’s new job.

“IT WAS A TELEWORK POSITION! That you were LATE for BOTH DAYS you worked! And it was MAIL MERGE, NOT DATA ENTRY!” He turned to glare daggers at her. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact you put forth entirely ZERO effort into at least TRYING to become a member of the working class, or that you lied to me the entire week about still having the damn job!”

An angry retort sprang to her lips; Penelope debated continuing the argument but thought better of it. She had known the lie would catch up with her, but she had been hoping it would have been after the dinner. Carmine’s had the most amazing food, and Penelope was in love with their broiled Lobster Oreganata, Porterhouse Pizzaiola, and pasta with meatballs and sausage.

With Maxwell’s back facing her, Penelope quietly tiptoed into the kitchen, trying to neither be seen nor heard. She peered over her potentially ex-boyfriend's shoulder, salivating at the sight and smells of containers filled with pastas, meats, and sauces.

Maxwell felt his girlfriend’s eyes on him and exhaled a silent breath. He should have known from their first meeting that Penelope was not relationship material.

They met at 9:30am on the elevator at the office building Max worked in; it was Penelope’s first day at a company occupying the entire third floor. At 11am, Max was back on the elevator hellbent on a Starbucks run; the elevator stopped at the third floor and Penelope entered, her blue eyes filled with tears.

She had been let go from her new job in less than 90 minutes.

Max was a sucker for a damsel in distress. He dried Penelope’s tears, treated her to a coffee, and offered to take her out on a date. That had been over two years ago, and if the woman had worked a cumulative 40-hour work week since, he knew nothing about it.

He had asked the gang if their companies were hiring; Liam laughed so hard, his drink came out of his nose. Riley, who worked with Max, rolled her eyes as she muttered, “You already know.” Everyone else shook their heads vigorously.

For a brief period, he had even let her be a stay-at-home girlfriend, but that definitely didn’t work out; Penelope couldn’t cook and had no concept of housekeeping. He had to pull from his savings to replace his wardrobe when she tossed his lights, darks and half a bottle of bleach into the washing machine. She was asleep when he left for work, and asleep when he returned home.

Irresponsible was too inadequate of a word to describe his girlfriend. She was a money pit in addition to being careless, thoughtless, and an emotional vampire.

But Maxwell Beaumont loved Penelope Ebrim. She could be sweet, buying him small gifts that brought a smile to his face. She mixed mean cocktails, had a killer sense of humor, and was a terrific dancer. She just needed to find her way.

Apparently, God had chosen Max to help her do so.

“Pen, you have GOT to find and keep a job!” Max stated in a firm tone that brooked no argument as he prepared her a plate of lobster, pasta with garlic and oil, and shrimp parmigiana.

When Penelope saw Maxwell piling a plate with Italian yumminess, she had moved to the cabinets to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. She was setting them on the dinette table as she debated coming clean in her reply.

“I may have found something; I’m supposed to have an interview Monday.”

Max set the serving spoon down as be swung his head to look at his girlfriend in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I was waiting until afterwards so I could surprise you!” Penelope crowed happily.

“Well, where? With who?” Max’s smile covered his entire face as he resumed plating food.

Maybe things were looking up.

Penelope expertly removed the wine bottle’s cork and began pouring sparkling merlot into the glasses.

“The interview is at The Greene Turtle, and it’s with a temp agency called Daddy’s Little Girl. Basically, I would be having lunches and meetings at hotels with older men for an hourly rate.”

Maxwell had plates in both hands, which he slowly lowered onto the kitchen counter; his every movement displayed his disbelief. There was no way his girlfriend had applied for a job as an escort.

No.Way.

“You’re going to be a prostitute?” he choked out.

Penelope had just taken her seat. She looked up at Maxwell in horror at his words.

“NO!! Why would you say THAT? How could you even THINK THAT of me??’ It’s like lunch meetings or something!”

“NAKED LUNCH! Pen, NO ONE is paying a woman … a PRETTY WOMAN … to just “have lunch”!! And meetings in HOTEL ROOMS? What the ACTUAL fuck?”

“It’s working lunches, sometimes dinners, with out-of-town business entrepreneurs who need someone to take dictation!”

Max’s face dropped into his open palm.

“The going rate is $150 an hour! I was told with my looks and appearance, I could be in huge demand,” Penelope argued.

“WHEN DID THEY SEE YOU?” Max yelled as he threateningly shook a plastic spatula in Penelope’s direction.

“I saw the ad on Craigslist and called the number in the listing, then did a Zoom with the manager.”

Maxwell Beaumont stared at his girlfriend for a long, silent moment before exiting the kitchen and heading for their bedroom.

“MAX! Where are you going??”

“To have a talk with God.”

Penelope stared at his retreating back with a furrowed brow before shrugging and rising to fetch her dinner.

“Tell Him I said heyyyy.”

Max’s response was to slam the bedroom door.

Tagging: @ao719 @jared2612 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @mom2000aggie @liamxs-world @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @beezm @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @gardeningourmet @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @lovingchoices14 @lady-calypso @walkerdrakewalker @queenjilian @kristinamae093 @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #trr dc au fanfiction #sock game liam #hint of lemon #writer on tumblr

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