#we’re gonna get through this 🫠

[dream-clouds3]

So many ideas. So many wip. Zero balance

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[nicoscheer]

uumutyildirimm Standing next to me 🫂 🤍

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Not feeling pretty because you don’t fit into traditional beauty standards blah blah blah so boring blehghhh but here we are regardless 🫠🫠🫠

[raeathnos]

Adventures at the PA Ren Faire!

[moonstruckme]

I know we have emt mauraders (and I absolutely love them with all of my heart), but I can't get the image of fireman James out of my head. He's just so beefed up and just has that build about him. You know? 🫠

So true babe <3

cw: reader is trapped in elevator for a bit

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

It took you some time to work up the courage to press the HELP button. Your building’s elevator has always been a bit scary, shuddering and screeching ever since you’d moved in, so you’d hoped for a while that it would just fix itself, remember that it was supposed to be moving and deliver you safely to your floor. No such luck.

You’re endlessly glad that you’re going home and not running late to work when it takes the fire crew another twenty minutes to show up. You’re guessing elevator rescues aren’t at the top of their priority list. When someone finally bangs on a door somewhere below you, you scramble up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor. 

“Fire department,” a man’s voice says.

“Hi,” you call back, feeling immediately stupid for it. Were you supposed to say your job description back or something? 

“Is everyone okay? How many of you are there?” 

“It’s—it’s just me.” 

“Alright,” the voice says, “we’re gonna get you out of there, just give us a second.” 

You hum back though he probably can’t hear. There’s a lot of creaking metal and muffled voices, and then the door to your prison squeaks slowly open. Most of what you can see is clearly elevator shaft, but there’s a small opening at your feet. Once it’s a couple of feet wide, a curly head pops through. 

“Hi,” the voice from earlier says. It comes from a lovely face, all tan skin and warm eyes and a radiant smile, like this man finds everything about his day genuinely cheering. “You alright in here? Injured at all?” 

It takes you a second to find your voice, and even once you do it sounds pitchier than normal. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” 

“Perfect.” Somehow, his grin seems to widen, which is a bit much for you right now. Suddenly you’re kind of dizzy. “Okay, I’m just going to have you scooch on your bum over here and stick your legs out, yeah? I’ll pop out so I can lower you down.” 

He’s going…he’s going to grab your legs. Okay. Awesome. This is totally your everyday. 

Some of your hesitance must show on your face, because the man’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself,” he says. “I’m James. What’s your name?” 

You tell him, so quietly you’re not sure he can hear, but James nods anyway. “Y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve already been stuck for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’d like to get to where you’re going. This is the easy part, okay?” 

“Okay,” you echo. 

James gives you an encouraging smile, retreating from the opening. “Alright, just set your legs out here,” he calls up. 

You sit down on the elevator floor, slipping your feet through so your legs are dangling in open air. A second later, strong hands grip the undersides of your thighs. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” James says. “I’m gonna ease you out, and I just need you to lean back so you don’t bump your head on anything, yeah?” 

You hum in response. He starts pulling you out of the elevator, his grip moving up your thighs to your bottom once it emerges. Your heart thunders, both from the intimate contact and from trusting your weight wholly to someone else. Soon you’ve cleared the opening. Another set of hands cups the back of your head to ensure you don’t hit it on the elevator floor, and then you’re sitting up, your hands landing on James’ shoulders for balance. They’re really quite substantial, you can’t help but notice, wide and full of thick, corded muscle. He tilts his head back, grinning up at you. 

“See?” he says. “Easy.” 

A dizzy little laugh escapes you, and James’ grin takes on a whole new quality. Something curious about it. He hoists you up in his arms, grip transferring to your waist so he can lower you to the floor. 

“Thanks,” you manage, looking up at him. You look at the other handful of firefighters around too, the embarrassment of your situation finally sinking in. Your face heats. “I really appreciate the help.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James says. As the others start packing up equipment, his attention stays on you. “You sure you’re alright? Where are you going from here?” 

You do your best to give him a smile of your own. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just going home. I live on the sixth floor.” 

He hums. “Best take the stairs this time.”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Hurricane

pairing: Joel Miller No Apocalypse x F! wife reader

summary: legit me with hurricane francine yesterday/last night, you guys know i love protective daddy joel. p.s my house is still without power 🫠

The wind whipped fiercely outside, rattling the windows as the sky turned an ominous shade of gray. Joel stood at the front door, staring at the water creeping up the driveway. The outer bands of the hurricane were already making their presence known, and the storm wasn’t even close to landfall yet. His jaw tightened as he wiped his hands on his jeans, adrenaline kicking in.

“Honey!” Joel called, his voice urgent as he hurried toward the bedroom. “We need to pack. Now. The water’s gonna get in the house if we don’t leave soon.”

Y/N appeared in the doorway, holding their newborn close against her chest, her eyes wide with concern. “Is it that bad already?”

“Yeah, it’s that bad,” Joel muttered, grabbing his boots from the closet and throwing them on the bed. “Pack the bags yours, mine, and the kids’. Essentials. I’ll load the truck.”

Without another word, Joel was out the door, his heart racing as he made his way through the garage. The lifted F-150 was their best bet for getting out safely, especially with the rising water, and he wasted no time throwing in bags of snacks, bottles of water, and the kids’ favorite toys. The wind was howling now, rattling the garage door as he loaded the portable crib for the baby.

Inside, Y/N rushed through the house, packing clothes for everyone in a frenzy. Her hands trembled as she grabbed shirts, jeans, and socks from Joel’s dresser, tossing them into the duffel bag. She couldn’t believe the storm had gotten this bad so fast. But if Joel said they had to go, she trusted him.

She scooped up the newborn’s diapers, formula, and bottles, stuffing them into another bag before returning to the living room where their two older kids were huddled on the couch, their little faces full of worry. “Come on, babies. We’re going for a little trip, okay? Daddy’s loading the truck.”

Joel was back in a flash, sweeping through the door, sweat already glistening on his forehead from the effort. He grabbed the bags Y/N had packed and hauled them outside, stuffing them into the back of the truck with barely a grunt.

"Get your pretty ass in the car," Joel growled, his voice firm but soft as he glanced at Y/N, holding their baby in her arms. “Take the kids, millie, and go to your parents’ house. I’ll stay here and make sure the floodwater doesn’t get into the house.”

Y/N froze in her tracks, blinking up at him like he’d lost his mind. “No, Joel. You’re not staying behind. Your safety is more important to me than this house.” Her voice cracked with emotion as she stood her ground.

Joel hesitated, eyes softening as he looked at her. He wanted to argue, but seeing her like this, standing tall in the middle of chaos, broke down any resistance. He let out a heavy sigh, his resolve crumbling. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

He grabbed the last of the essentials and tossed them into the truck, As Joel loaded the last of the bags into the back of the truck, he gave a sharp whistle, the kind that always got their chocolate lab, Millie, bounding over. Sure enough, Millie came trotting out from the porch, her tail wagging despite the chaos around them.

“Come on, girl,” Joel called, motioning toward the truck. He walked over to Y/N’s side and opened the door, making room for Millie. “Hop in.”

Without hesitation, Millie leapt up into the backseat beside the kids, settling in like she knew they were heading somewhere safe.Then Joel climbed into the driver’s seat. Y/N quickly secured the kids in the back, holding the newborn close as she settled in next to Joel.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Joel muttered, gripping the wheel tightly as the rain started to come down harder. The water was already licking at the edge of their driveway, but he pulled away just in time, the tires of the truck splashing through puddles as they headed toward her parents’ house.

Y/N reached over, resting a hand on Joel’s arm as they drove, her heart still racing from the panic. “I’m glad you didn’t stay behind.”

Joel glanced at her, squeezing her hand with a small smile. “Me too darlin’, I just want to keep you and the kids safe.” Y/n cupped his check with her hand and said “Wherever you are, we’re safe. “

As the storm raged behind them, Joel kept his focus on getting his family to safety.

The drive to Y/N’s parents’ house was tense, the rain pelting the windshield as Joel carefully navigated through flooded streets. By the time they pulled into the driveway, the winds were howling, and the power was already flickering. Y/N’s parents rushed out to help everyone inside as Joel grabbed the bags and Millie’s food and dog bed from the truck, everyone hurrying to get in before the weather worsened.

As soon as they stepped through the door, the lights went out, leaving the house in darkness. The kids immediately grew scared, clinging to Y/N as they looked around nervously.

“It’s okay, everything’s alright,” Y/N soothed, her voice calm and steady as she knelt down in front of them. “Daddy’s going to get the power back on. We’re safe here.”

Joel shot her a reassuring look before heading toward the back porch with her father. The wind was still howling, but Joel’s focus was on getting the generator running. He filled it with gas and fresh oil, working quickly alongside her father as the storm raged around them.

Inside, Y/N kept the kids close, getting them settled in the living room. The baby stirred in her arms but didn’t fully wake, and Y/N gently placed her back in the portable crib, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. She tucked blankets around the two older kids, calming their fears with gentle words.

Once the generator was up and running, the hum of power returned, filling the house with a comforting buzz. Joel came back inside, his clothes slightly damp from the rain, and nodded toward Y/N, a proud smile on his face.

“It’s set up outside,” Joel said, moving toward the couch. “The TV’s plugged into extension cord which is plugged up to the generator so we can keep an eye on the news.”

Y/N nodded, sinking onto the couch beside him, her hand finding his as they both exhaled in relief. The kids were now calm, settled on their makeshift beds, and the baby was fast asleep. Millie was asleep in her dog bed, still on high alert.

Together, Joel and Y/N sat in the dimly lit room, the flickering glow of the TV illuminating their faces. The weather report showed the storm intensifying, but they were safe riding it out together as a family.

Joel wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her closer as the wind howled outside. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

Y/N nodded, leaning into him. "As long as we're together, we can get through anything."

They stayed like that for hours, watching the storm outside but feeling secure in each other’s arms. Despite the chaos outside, inside they were safe and sound, riding out the hurricane as one.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#44: The Family Gifts (1.05)

I love that they have this scene take place in a souvenir shop. 😊 Rick already turns the whole world into a gift shop when it comes to finding things to gift to Michonne so it’s only fitting that he’d find the perfect thing to get her in this place.

But what's extra special is now Rick's history of getting Michonne gifts has expanded to thinking about gifts for the son she gave him too - with RJ being the ultimate gift for them both. And seeing these two converse as parents in this scene was super heartwarming 🥰...

The scene starts with Rick knocking on the shop's door and then they open it and have the cutest little look exchange before entering the shop. It’s so subtle but I love it. 😊 They’re in such a good, peaceful, lighthearted mood and I always love those moments where it’s so clear that on top of being husband and wife, Rick and Michonne really are best friends. And yes I got all that just from a quick playful look. 😋

They enter and when Michonne walks pass those touristy license plates she taps them with her stick and keeps walking. I love that when she hits the rack Rick immediately looks over at her wondering what that’s about. He looks like if the license plates did something to her then he's gonna have beef with them too lol.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne says, “Never did like those” and I love that Rick immediately knows why as he says, “No 'Michonnes,' huh?” Michonne says, “Not even once” and I like that in TOWL we’re even just getting these tiny insights into the characters from the world before.

I know so many with unique names could relate to this license plate moment. And 'Michonne' really is such a unique and pretty name and uncommon as Okafor noted. 'Michonne' is also Rick’s favorite word. I’m convinced. 😌 And ever since this scene, my headcanon is that Rick, RJ, and Judith definitely work together to create some type of 'Michonne' license plate and gift it to her. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

As Rick continues to look at the license plates he stops and sees one that says 'Junior.' And y’all, the second I saw the junior license plate my heart was already bursting knowing exactly where this was going.

I love that they make it a point to show that there are Rick and even Richard license plates available too but the one that catches his eye is 'Junior.' It just shows how Rick is already so proud that his son is his Junior. 🥲

And then my heart just does flips and leaps hearing Rick say RJ’s name for the first time as he so sweetly asks Michonne, “Is this a terrible gift to bring to RJ?” Y'all, I'm smiling and crying at the same time. 🫠 Like how precious is this. 😭

You just know on this road trip home Rick and Michonne have been talking a lot about their kids and I love that Rick is thinking about his son and wants to bring him a gift. Especially because, as I mentioned in an episode 4 breakdown, they have a book they're bringing to Judith so I'm sure Rick wants to make sure they have a gift for RJ too.

I knew after episode 4 we were going to be seeing Healthy & Alive Rick all through episode 5 and that was so clear in this scene. Cuz this is the real Rick right here. Being a whole father. Being his affectionate gift-giving self. I love to see it. 😌

gif cred: @kris-lulu

There’s also something so sweet about him wondering if it would be a 'bad' gift. It’s bittersweet because it’s a reminder that Rick hasn’t had a chance to know his son or what he'd like but it’s great knowing he soon will have the chance to learn it all. 

Michonne smiles and then informs Rick that “No one has ever once called him Junior.” I love that when so many of us heard that we immediately decided that this means Rick will be the only one to call RJ 'Junior' and it’ll be their father/son thing. 👌🏽

gif cred: @krislulu

Rick says, “Ah okay” and puts the license plate back, and then Michonne smiles at him clearly finding him so cute in this moment and knowing the father of her child is the best man on earth.

And then she has the warmest kindest tone as she tells Rick, “You’re bringing yourself back. That’s more than enough.” I love this so much. 😭

gif cred: @kris-lulu

It's so touching that Michonne wants Rick to know he’s the gift. The gift that’s more than enough too. 🥹 Like truly their family is going to be so much more whole with his return.

The wording of 'bringing yourself back' also always makes me think of how he’s literally coming back but also he’s been acting like himself again, so it’s like Rick is bringing his true self back rather than burying it. And that’s also more than enough.

I love that Michonne is always reminding Rick of how cherished he is. And it’s also this reminder that him being with them is the best thing he can do. Just like when she said I only feel safe with you, Rick is again getting this confirmation that his presence is as needed and valued as his protection. 👌🏽

Rick says, “The Brave Man, huh?” and I like how this shows that Rick has been thinking a lot about who he is to his kids.

This got me thinking about how when Rick decided to die he had to surrender the idea of ever seeing his wife and daughter again. He accepted that all he’d ever have is the fading memories and just the honor of having got to love and protect them at all, even if for far briefer a time than he’d hoped. So now, it has to be pretty surreal for him to know he really will be back with them and with the son he wanted but didn't know he had.

gif cred: @nat111love

And if he’s at all worried if he’ll live up to his kids' expectations of him being The Brave Man, Michonne so wonderfully quells those doubts when she again so sweetly and sincerely says, “You are. More than ever.” 🥹🥹🥹

I know I’ve said it 1000 times but I adore the way Michonne believes in and uplifts Rick and this line right here might be my favorite example of that.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how Michonne can always sense Rick's subtext and underlying feelings and then address them in the perfect way. Because she can sense that Rick is nervous about meeting his son for the first time and maybe worried about how it’ll go just showing up in his life after all these years. But Michonne saying this is reminding Rick that by choosing to come home, especially when he had been so convinced prior that he couldn’t and shouldn’t, is a brave thing and very commendable and he really is the great man his kids think he is.

It’s so precious too that Rick gets to see that it’s not just his kids but his wife who truly views him as The Brave Man. Like even tho Rick said last ep that he’s not the brave man, Michonne wants him to know their babies got it right with that title. 💯

And by pushing through all the fear that was keeping him chained to the CRM, Michonne thinks he’s the bravest he’s ever been for doing that. 🥹 I appreciate how Michonne and Rick find so many ways to say 'I love you' even without saying the three words directly. And this was 100% that. They really breathe life into each other with every encouraging word and gesture.

gif cred: @nat111love

As Michonne turns around we get even more adorableness as Rick spots a name bracelet and thinks what he thinks when he sees most any item, “this could be turned into a gift for Michonne.”

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

So being cute and sneaky trying to not get caught with the jewelry since he wants to surprise her with it later, he grabs the 'Michelle' bracelet and breaks it so that it becomes an M bracelet.

gif cred: @nat111love

Can my extra self break down all the reasons I adore this real quick? 😋

One; I absolutely love that because Rick notes every detail of Michonne he knows she’s missing her signature M necklace and so, as he’s always been so good at doing, he finds a way to essentially replace the one she lost.

Two; I love that Rick said if this place doesn’t have ‘michonne’ gifts he’ll find a way to make one.

Three; Something about him making the M bracelet on his prosthetic felt symbolic to me. He literally lost that hand because he’d choose being with Michonne over his own limbs. And now after doing everything he could to be with her, he has her and is still finding ways to give her every good thing he can.

Four; if I'm not mistaken, I believe it was said by Danai that the initial M necklace was from Michonne's mom and so I love that Michonne’s two M pieces of jewelry came from two of the people that love her most. 🥲

Five; After all those years of Michonne wearing that wedding ring with her necklace, I love that her husband is now with her and getting her new jewelry…and he’ll also be giving her some even more meaningful jewelry by the end of the ep. Amen. 😏

Six; It’s just so romantic and thoughtful. It’s so Rick to do this. And I love all these heartfelt gestures that add to Richonne’s epic love story. 

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Rick pockets the bracelet, waiting for the right moment to gift his wife. Michonne then says, “He might be ready for this” as Rick turns around and sees Michonne holding a hatchet, similar to one of Rick's signature weapons in TWD. I adore that she saw that weapon and was like this would be a good fitting gift for Rick’s mini-me. 😋

And then something I always appreciate so much is hearing Rick ask, “Is that who he is?” I think it’s so sweet and such a sign of what a good dad Rick is. Of course, he’d be flattered if his son followed in his footsteps but the question shows that he also wants to know who RJ is regardless of him. You just know he’s prepared to love RJ whether he’s like him or not and I just love that he wants to know all about what RJ is like. 

And then it’s great that Michonne gets to tell him just how much she meant it when she said their kids are some Richonne kids when she says, “Judith has a sword. They’re us.” Hearing her say their kids are her and Rick never fails to elate me. 🥰 It’s such a true statement.

I love imagining that now that they’ve reunited Rick has got to see firsthand that Judith doesn’t only have a sword, she’s a whole pro with the sword just like her mom. 😌

I love how proud Michonne is of her kids. She raised them to be survivors while still giving them a childhood. And seeing Rick and Michonne talk as RJ and Judith’s parents in this scene was everything. The best mom and dad. 💛

But they’re also the best husband and wife and I love how that got to take center stage in TOWL.

So after this lovely parents moment, Rick is back to reminding us why he’s Husband of the Year ever year when he spots the absolute perfect minty fresh gift to give his wife.

And y’all, I gotta do a part two because this next part has Rick saying one of my favorite things of all time and it needs its own post. 😇

But as for this moment, Rick and Michonne are such a gift to each other. And their kids are such a gift to them. And this scene is such a gift to me. 🥰 And honey, because we’re spoiled rotten with this miniseries, this gift of a scene just keeps on giving with what comes next. 👌🏽😌

[quin-ns]

Hiiii I love your fics! Was wondering if you’d write jj being the more submissive one and the reader taking advantage and messing with him since their friends would never notice? Maybe she takes it too far and he gets too riled up and it leads to dry humping.. him coming in his pants would be so hot wouldn’t it? 🫠

(sorry if this is too horny)

anon I love your brain… this was lowkey so fun I need to write more smut (I still have some more requests to get through so…) 👀

Tease (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Knowing the things you (and only you) knew about JJ, you liked to screw with him a little. Just for fun.

Like running your hand through his hair, letting his soft locks catch between your fingers so you could tug ever so slightly. Not hard, just enough to make him stumble over his words a little.

No one really caught on, so you got away with it.

Just like the times when he’d kiss you in front of all your friends and you’d let your hand linger on the front of his neck before gliding to rest on the back and pull him closer. You’d never been a fan of public displays of affection until JJ. The way he’d gasp against your lips before kissing you harder was worth it.

On more than one occasion your friends had joked about the two of you getting a room, or had heckled you for a kiss turning to a make out right in front of them. It didn’t bother you or JJ—in fact, you’d followed the first bit of advice more than once.

There were a lot of small things like that that you’d do mostly for your own amusement, but the most devious was probably what you were doing right now.

It was pretty late, basically night, and you two, plus your friends, were all sitting around John B’s porch. More specifically, JJ was sitting in a chair, and you were sitting in his lap. You were leaning against him with your legs thrown over the armrest. His hand loosely held your thigh, keeping you close.

Every once in a while, you’d sit up a little to whisper something into his ear. What you wanted to do to him, what you wanted him to do to you, the other colorful thoughts that were crossing your mind. You had to bite back laughter at the way his cheeks tinted pink and how his grip on your leg tightened as he tried to keep his cool.

You had perfected your sneakiness, being able to pick the right moments to do so. You always rejoined the conversation with no problem, but JJ had a bit of a harder time.

He started to get more fidgety, your teasing having an effect on him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. The bulge in his pants pressing into you was pretty obvious.

You smiled a little to yourself as you waited to see what he’d do.

He broke sooner than you thought he would’ve. JJ tilted his head down, his lips resting by your ear.

“Can we go?” he whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear him.

JJ was never the type of guy to ask permission for anything—except with you. It was one of those fun little secrets you got to keep for just the two of you.

You pulled back to look at him, studying the way his pupils seemed to be wider and how he’d punctured his lip from biting it a little too hard.

If you had said no, he would’ve listened. He would’ve sat there and, for lack of a better term, probably creamed his jeans.

You thought about torturing him a little longer, but you were starting to feel just as needy as him.

“I think we’re gonna call it a night,” you announced calmly, faking a yawn. You got to your feet, smirking down at JJ. “You coming?”

He nearly choked, but grabbed your hand to leave when you extended it.

“See you guys later,” JJ managed, sounding more together than either of you seemed to expect.

Your friends all said goodnight, knowing you and JJ were a set. It wasn’t surprising that if you were leaving, he was too.

When you got off the porch, JJ took the lead and practically dragged you to your car. If you hadn’t been at your friend's house, you would’ve gone right to the back seat. Instead you got into the driver's side while JJ slammed the passenger door behind him with a huff.

“Chill out,” you teased as you started the engine.

“Your fault,” he accused, already squirming in his seat. “You’re the one that kept saying shit. You’re evil, you know that?”

You laughed, feeling his eyes on you while you drove. His glare wasn’t sincere, but you knew he was at least a little embarrassed.

“You love it,” you shot back. He didn’t argue because it was true. “I think it’s hot when you get all nervous.”

You pulled your car off down some old road that no one ever used. You parked on the side and shut off the car.

JJ registered what was happening almost immediately. You saw the way he perked up. Although, what really snapped him into action was when you climbed into the back seat.

“Care to join me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. The way clamored back was much less graceful than you had moved, but he was overcome with eagerness.

You let him lay you down and get on top of you, lips seeking out yours. He slotted himself between your legs and when he brushed against you, his hips jerked forward.

Whatever plans you hand flew out the window when JJ let out a deep moan and repeated the action—this time on purpose.

His body crushed yours beneath him, the kiss becoming sloppy as he focused more on the friction he was creating.

You held him against you, content to let him get off like this. Everything about the situation made your body flood with heat.

He trembled on top of you, and you knew he was getting close. JJ pulled back to look at you. He opened his mouth to speak, face flushed, looking like he only now just realized what he was doing.

“Keep going,” you urged in a whisper. Assurance was what he needed, you could see it in his desperate eyes. So, that’s what you gave him. “It’s okay, baby.”

JJ didn’t argue, instead grinding against you with more purpose, chasing his release. You swore you heard him whimper as his head dropped to your neck.

You let one of your knees bend, your leg almost wrapping around him. One hand reached to tangle into his hair. The light gasp at first contact quickly morphed into a moan when you pulled. His hips jerked, shoving harder between your legs. Even through the barriers of clothing, you could feel his cock throbbing.

Heavy pants escaped JJ lips, warming your skin. There was no space between your bodies as his arms wrapped under you, holding you against him. Like he couldn’t get enough.

You slid your hands beneath his shirt and raked your nails over his back, causing his whole body to shudder.

JJ groaned out your name, voice muffled against your skin as his hips began to stutter. His body tensed as he shoved forward. After a moment, he halted, completely pressed against you. It was like all the air left his lungs as he finished, warmth flooding both your body and the front of his pants.

He was still for a long moment, you could feel his heart racing and heard the ragged breaths he sucked in.

Before you could make a joke about him falling asleep, JJ lifted his head. He propped himself up with his arms and swallowed, coming down from his high.

You almost laughed when he sat back on his knees and looked down at himself, then at you.

“Fuck, I—I’m sorry,” he rushed out, face red.

That time, a chuckle did escape. You maneuvered yourself to sit up facing him.

You hummed, reaching for his face. You let your hand rub against his warm cheek.

“Don’t be,” you said, pulling him in for a kiss. Right before your lips pressed against his, you whispered, “It was hot.”

[princessbrunette]

anal w/ jj 🫠 i just KNOW he gets nasty with it

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

he’s more nervous than you, one hundred percent. he’s never done it before! the idea that his sweet girl actually is letting someone like him near that hole in the first place is something he’s still trying to wrap his head around.

he gets you used to it first, and gets himself used to it. he’s kneeling over the backs of your thighs as you lay face down on the bed, doing everything in his power to soothe the both of your nerves. he’s rock hard, like tip drooling, balls pulsing level hard — but he’s totally ignoring it to focus on you first— squishing your ass cheeks together in his big rough hands before working up the courage to start to rub your asshole in circles with his thumb— lubed up and ready. you’re so horny you feel like someone’s taken your brain out and replaced it backwards, because all you can do is whimper and spread your legs, pressing your leaking cunt into the spongey mattress.

“you know i don’t… i don’t know if it’s gonna fit, bae.” he blinks, thumb slowly sinking inside. you groan, a whiney guttural noise that he hasn’t managed to unlock until this moment. “eeeeasy there.”

“make it fit, jayj.” you sigh out all in one breath and like his brain is pavlov’d to the words, he starts to yank his boxers down, freeing his cock.

“famous last words.” he teases, easing his thumb out and lining his sticky tip up with your tighter hole. “you’re sure you wanna do this? i’m still all good to back out and destroy this pussy all the same, i’m just sayin’.”

“please, want it in my…” the words were too vulgar. you’ve begged for his cock time and time again, but this? this you wasn’t sure if you could verbalise. there’s a shift in atmosphere through the short silence, and jj smears his precum all over your hole.

“want it where, exactly? just so ‘m certain.” you hear the slight smirk in his tone and you shudder, writhing just a little to smush your clit more against the bed.

“in my ass, jj.” you mewl shyly, and despite you facing away from him he grins and nods slowly, looking up at the ceiling like he just couldn’t believe his luck.

“well when you put it like that…” he teases, slowly pressing inside. your brow knits instantly, jaw dropping as you push yourself up a little with a nervous whine. “hey, hey, hey. down girl. juuuust relax, lemme get it all in.” he locks in, pushing past his mushroom tip until he’s sunk all the way inside. you cling around him even tighter, which he didn’t think was possible. it’s an entirely new feeling for you too, taking a moment to get used to it.

“okay. we’re buried, baby. how’s it feel?” he’s panting a little despite barely moving— the feeling of you clamped around him almost too much.

“feels weird.” you whimper unsurely and his hand finds yours on the bed momentarily, wrapping a pinky around where your finger lies.

“good weird…? or like ‘please take it out and never speak of this again’ weird.” he ponders nervously, not wanting to hurt you.

“g—good… i feel full…” you explain, leg sliding up into a cocked up position on the mattress. “i like being full of you jj.” you whisper and he winces, pulsing inside you.

“well that’s good.” he breathes before gently leaning down, wrapping his arms around your body where you lay on your front. one arm is around your ribs, cradling you a little more against him and the other hand stuffs itself between your legs, finding your clit and started to rub as he slides back out, starting to thrust.

you moan, loud and abruptly and he speeds up just a fraction, testing the waters. “atta girl, you like that?”

as the two of you gain confidence in the activity, it’s not long before he’s back to his nasty old self — gripping your ass cheek with one hand and continuing to rub your clit with the other. “you sweet, sweet angel. letting your old jayj take this ass apart— that’s real fuckin’ generous baby. never pinned you for a little anal princess but here we are.” he breathes heavily and you can tell he’s close, as are you.

“would let you have any hole, jayj.” you mewl, the stretch painful at the speed he’s going but the pleasure strong enough to make you power through.

“yeah? don’t think there’s many caves left to explore babydoll but i appreciate the sentiment.” he jokes making you whine in embarrassment at your brainless dirty talk attempt. he thinks it’s sweet and leans forward, smushing kisses to your cheeks. “m’playing with you cutie. gonna be a good girl n’ let me cum in this pretty ass?” he lilts his voice to be softer, more convincing — and of course, you’d never turn down such a glorious offer.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[letsgetrowdy43]

Can you write something angsts maybe Quinn and honey get into a fight and warren hears them and gets worried I love your work I literally reread them over and over

Late night fights ☆—

I made this so long for literally no reason 🫠

Au Masterlist!!

The requested second part!!

So I picture the argument happening around the beginning of the 24-25 season, Hayden is around 6 months old and Honey is fighting for her life trying to get her youngest to start sleeping in the nursery rather than the crib in their room.

It’s been a struggle cause this baby is so damn stubborn (just like her mother) and will cry and cry, Hun is losing so much sleep over it cause Quinn’s away on a roadie, so she is just feeling like the shell of herself.

Quinn gets home from the first roadie of the season and although the team is doing better they took a few losses, so he’s in a sour mood, so he goes to see his little girl, the one that Hun just got to go down for the night after hours of her crying. And he brings her into their room to cuddle her and puts her down in the crib next to his side of the bed. Honey walks out of the ensuite bathroom, with wet hair and just a towel on to finally see Quinn after a week and a half of being apart and her face goes from 😌 to 😶, and she’s livid.

They start arguing, trying to be quiet for their babies' sake, but Quinn is just not getting why she’s upset.

“I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal” “Quinn this has been one of the hardest weeks of my life, and you just came in here and ruined all of my work!” they whisper yelled at each other. “I didn’t know,” “Obviously if she’s not in here there’s a reason!”

And it is just going on and on, an entire hour of them having a very quiet screaming match in their room until Quinn claims defeat and takes his pyjamas and heads to the spare room.

Warren is in his room awake during all of it, knowing that his dad was gonna be home late that night, he expected Quinn to come in and tuck him in like he always did so he stayed up waiting patiently. When he finally hears quiet and the door to the spare bedroom loudly shut followed by a “very mature” from his mother Warren is in tears cause he’s now convinced his parents no longer love each other.

Quinn heard quiet sniffles coming from outside his door, followed by the smacking of his son's little feet on the hardwood as a teary-eyed Warren opened his door and made his way to the side of the bed.

A tired Quinn picked him up and hugs him against his chest as he rubs Warrens back, “I’m sorry bud,” he mumbled as he felt tears hit his shoulder, “I forgot to tuck you in, I’m not on my A game tonight” he whispered as Warren wrapped his arms around his dad's neck.

“Do you still love Mommy?” He asked sadly, pouting as Quinn tensed and pulled away from his son to look him in the eyes, “of course I do, I love her so so much” he said with a frown, “Daddy’s just being stubborn, I’ll fix it in the morning” Quinn mumbled as his hands raked through his son's curls. “We’re you good for Mum this week?” The man asked as Warren nodded, “I was, Hayd cried a lot” he wiped his tears as Quinn laid him down next to him on the mattress.

The moment Warren laid down he finally closed his eyes, quietly asking his dad to tell him all about his trip. And the moment he hears soft snores coming from his son's mouth, Quinn is just staring at the ceiling like ‘fuck I’m a dumbass’.

-

-

-

[its-time-to-write]

More Kent!reader and baby George?? Baby fever hittin hard rn🫠😮‍💨

I gotchu! This one has some backstory on the Kents. Or at least how I imagine it, anyway. I love that you all keep requesting more of this story, I think big brother Roy is the absolute sweetest🥺

this one is definitely more Roy-centric, that’s for sure! here’s a link to the other fics if you’re new here🤗

light in the hallway

Roy’s in the middle of yelling, “Isaac, pick up your fucking feet!” when his phone rings. 

He almost doesn’t register it, because the only numbers allowed through while he’s at training are Molly’s, yours, and Phoebe’s school. 

His first thought is that something’s happened to Phoebe, and he’s already calculating how fast he can get to her before he notices it’s your name on the screen. He frowns. You never call while he’s on the pitch, but maybe you need to talk to Jamie about something. 

“Your prick husband’s in the middle of training. Can it wait?” he says in lieu of greeting. 

“I don’t want Jamie, I want you,” comes your panicked voice. “George is sick and I don’t know what to do, he’s all feverish and he hasn’t thrown up or anything but I googled it and it says I don’t have to take him ‘round hospital, but I’m worried anyway because you can’t give a baby chicken noodle soup but his eyes are all glassy and he’s so fucking sweaty.”

Roy looks over to where Jamie’s drilling with Dani, kicking football after football into the net. He turns back around. “Right. I’ll be there in five fucking minutes. I love you.”

“Five minutes? You’re at least fifteen away, and-”

“I love you!” Roy says again, slightly louder before hanging up. 

He makes eye contact with Nate and motions to the car park. Nate nods and Roy leaves, satisfied that Nate didn’t ask where he was going. 

He makes it to your house in six minutes, but only because he got stuck behind an old car. You open the door before he has a chance to knock with an overly fussy George in your arms. 

“I’m an awful mum,” you say immediately. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Roy. I can’t make him feel better and I tried googling it but I don’t even know where to begin with that.”

Roy takes George, who seems to calm down a little. “Right, go run a bath for him. Make sure it’s lukewarm, we’re gonna try to get his fever down without fucking freezing the poor lad. You got acetaminophen?”

You nod. “In the medicine cabinet.”

“I’ll go cut some up for him. He can have a bit since he’s four months now. Same thing used to happen to Phoebe, you remember?”

You shake your head and Roy sighs. “Of course you fucking don’t, you’re too fucking worked up to think straight, aren’t you?”

“Should I have called Jamie?” you ask, eyes wide. 

Roy adjusts his hold on George as he shakes his head. This certainly isn’t the first time he’s seen you in a panic, but it might be the fucking saddest. 

“I didn’t want Jamie, I wanted you,” you explain, more to yourself than to Roy. “You always fucking know what to do and you make shit better.”

Roy’s not going to get choked up over that, there’s no point in crying over the fact that you both have shit parents and he and Molly basically raised you. So instead he gives you a gentle push in the direction of the bath and says,  “I’ll fucking call Tartt. Don’t you worry about it.”

You caress George’s little head before hurrying up the stairs. Roy sighs and goes to find the medicine. He checks the time. The team’s on lunch, so Jamie will have his phone. He finds the contact labeled “prick in-law,” and hits the call button. 

“You shit your pants, Coach?” is the first thing Jamie says when he picks up. 

“Fuck off,” Roy replies. “I’m at your house. George isn’t feeling well, so I’m helping your wife out.”

“Shit,” Jamie swears, and Roy can hear him clamoring out of his seat.

“You don’t fucking need to come home,” Roy says before Jamie can get any farther. “They’re both fine. Finish training for fuck’s sake, and stop by the store to get some fucking immunity boosters. Can’t have you fucking getting sick before the fucking match.”

“Right,” Jamie says finally. “Yeah, okay. Tell her I love her, yeah?”

“Sure,” Roy grits out, but if he’s being honest with himself he’s glad that Jamie’s first instinct was to rush home. It’s bad enough that he and Tartt are friends, much less in-laws. He’s glad Jamie makes you happy, at least. 

They hang up and on cue, George starts crying. 

“You’re alright, lad,” Roy murmurs, but he can already hear you thundering down the stairs. 

You come careening around the corner. “What’s wrong?” you ask anxiously, but Roy just hands you the bottle of acetaminophen. 

“He’s fucking fine. Just upset. Let’s go cool him down, alright kid?” Roy says. 

“Okay,” you say. “I’m really glad you’re here, Roy-o. I don’t think Jamie would’ve known what to do either.”

“Mhm,” Roy grunts. “He said to tell you he loves you. He’s picking up fucking immunity boosters for you, but there’s no fucking way you’ll get sick. Just a precaution.”

You stand on tiptoes to peck his cheek. “My god, how would Molly and I survive without you?” you ask fervently. Roy just grunts again and once again herds you toward the stairs. 

—

An hour later, you’re on the couch with George resting on your stomach. Roy brings you a cup of tea and sits down next to you. You settle closer to him, head on his shoulder as you breathe deep. It reminds you of the rare times he’d visit before Phoebe was born, and how you’d attach yourself to his side and beg him not to go back. There was a time when you were five that he almost caved, but he was twenty and at the beginning of the peak of his career, so he wrenched his hand from your tiny one and refused to look back.

Molly had called him a day later and told him that you wouldn’t stop crying. She was fourteen and already adjusted to the fact that she’d be raising her younger sister (you) on her own.

Roy had hated himself for that. Hated his parents for being shit, but mostly himself. He sent Molly as much money as he could, going around your parents until Molly was eighteen and they fucked off to god knows where, rarely to be heard from again.

So you’ll hold on to him as much as you can even though he’s not going anywhere, not since Molly rang him in a right state, pregnant by a shit husband.

“Roy,” you say softly as not to wake George, “d’you think I’m going to fuck him up?”

Roy asks, “What?” in the gentle tone he only uses with the people he loves.

“I’m worried that I’m going to fuck him up,” you say. “I know we’ve talked about it before but I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to do everything wrong. You and Molly… you always fucking know exactly what to do. I don’t. I got pregnant on accident with your arch-nemesis-turned-best-friend-” (“he’s not my best friend,” Roy mouths) “-and I’m worried that it’s all going to go to shit.”

Roy rests his cheek on top of your head. It’s strange. He knows you’re an adult but there’s always a part of him that sees you as that five year old who was crying because her parents were never around, and her brother was leaving her again.

“It’s not going to go to shit,” he whispers. “Molls knows everything because she’s a fucking know-it-all. I don’t know fucking shit, don’t know where you got that idea. You’re a fucking amazing mum. You’d fucking do anything for George, yeah? I’m always here for you and Jamie” (god, Roy can’t believe he’s about to defend fucking Tartt) “Jamie loves you, fucking annoying as it is, and he’s not going to fuck things either.”

You still look worried, but George chooses that moment to sigh and burrow into your chest.

Roy says, “See? He doesn’t think you’re shit,” and the furrows in your brow smooth a little bit.

The lock turns in the front door and Jamie comes in with a grocery bag.

“Kid’s asleep?” he whispers. You nod and he plops the bag on the ground, coming to sit on your other side.

Jamie kisses your temple and runs a hand over George’s back.

“Mental that he was in your stomach once, ain’t it?” he comments, and Roy snorts out a laugh.

“Mental,” you agree hooking one leg around Jamie’s.

Roy asks, “The fuck are you doing here, you’re supposed to be at training,” and Jamie doesn’t even bat an eye just returns, “Coach let us go early,” even though you know he’s lying by the way the corner of his mouth twitches.

Roy probably knows too, but only because he can smell a rat a mile away, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Jamie turns back to you. “Little lad’s doin’ alright, babe?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Roy says he’ll probably sleep for a while, and I thought we’d do takeaway for dinner.”

Jamie kisses you again and says, “You’re doing great, you know that?”

Tears begin to slide down your face and he looks to Roy in alarm. 

Roy just shakes his head. “She’s fine,” he says.

“I fucking love you,” you croak out, and Roy feels like an outsider, like he’s present for something he shouldn’t be. He moves to get up but your hand shoots out and grabs his wrist and all of the sudden he’s twenty again, watching you cry and beg him not to leave.

“Don’t go,” you plead, so he stays. He stays and has exactly one feeling about it, a feeling he would never vocalize, something about family and familiarity and maybe a little bit about coming home.

[cottonlemonade]

Stuck At The Airport

word count: 1057 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Oikawa x chubby!Reader

genre: very suggestive, smut-ish, established relationship

warnings: mdni, nsfw

synopsis: you tease Oikawa over the phone while he is just aching to get home to you

a/n: I had a draft for Kuroo and Oikawa and liked them both, sorry if they’re too similar 🫠

You closed the front door with an exhausted sigh, dropping your bag onto the floor. Looking forward to two weeks off you shuffled to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The snow was whirling against the kitchen window and the frost settled on the sill.

You leaned against the counter waiting for the water to boil when you got a text from your boyfriend.

Tooru: Flight was canceled, stuck at the airport, I am so sorry, princess. I'll be home tomorrow, I promise. I love you ❤️x

Attached to the message was a picture of him pouting.

You groaned inwardly - you hadn't seen each other in weeks because he was away for a tournament and you were aching to be with him.

You missed him so much. This weather in particular called for serious cuddle time with your significant other.

After typing out a just as pouty response, you went to take a long hot shower to wash all the stress of the week away.

Oikawa was sitting at the airport, bored and antsy, bouncing his leg.

He wanted to be home with you. No stress, no hurry, just… you and him, cuddled up inside with a nice glass of wine, snuggling on the couch watching a movie and then spending the night making you forget your own name over and over...

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of these kinds of thoughts. It only made the wait seem longer.

He leaned his head against the wall, staring off into the distance, hardly registering the music over his headphones.

He closed his eyes trying to maybe catch some sleep to make the time go by faster.

A short buzz informed him of an incoming message.

At first glance it was just a picture of your bed, the headboard, slightly wonky from various intimate nights, decorated with fairy lights. It was cozy, sweet and made him feel warm inside. He wanted to be there with you.

For a minute he thought that you might snuggle up with a pillow and watch a movie without him, then he noticed something else that sent an electric pulse through his body.

On the inviting bedding glowed a small purple charging light that caught his eye. It belonged to a little something he gifted you before the last time he had to travel.

His throat suddenly felt very tight and he made sure to turn his phone so that no one could accidentally glance at his screen.

The line under the picture read:

You: Guess what I'm doing.

Tooru: My job.

Another buzzing announced a FaceTime call and swallowing hard he picked up.

You were smiling into the camera, hair damp from the shower, dressed in your favourite lacy nightgown, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"I'm guessing you're not alone."

He shook his head, his lips dry.

"Well in that case, baby, we’re gonna go back to the thrilling days of radio and you just gotta listen."

Oikawa’s eyes went dark at the implication and shifted in his seat, taking off his jacket and draping it over his lap. He wanted to tell you to stop, whine and complain that it was unfair and mean and not the right time but… the low hum of the small pink toy, your shallow breaths and quiet moans shut him up. He turned his phone around, so the screen was hidden from view (a crime really because he wanted nothing more than to watch you - but he did remember to make sure to start a screen recording), closed his eyes and listened.

You were gonna pay for this as soon as he got home.

It was a little before three in the morning when he finally unlocked the front door and stepped into the dark foyer.

The familiar smell of you made his heart jump and he hurried to take off his jacket and shoes, considering for a moment to take off his shirt to cut down on time. But he smirked thinking about how much you loved undressing him yourself so he made his way to the bedroom, anticipation tensing every muscle.

You were laying on your stomach, dressed in that short white nightgown from the afternoon, the blanket crumpled next to you. He swallowed, somehow his mouth felt too dry and too wet at the same time.

Oikawa sat at the edge of the bed, thinking about how to wake you without startling you too much. But he was also hungry… in the end he chose to run his warm hand along your plush inner thigh, while kissing your shoulders and exposed neck. His fingers just shy of where he desperately wanted to be he continued to rub, squeeze and kiss until you slowly woke up.

"Hey princess.", he said quietly, smiling against your soft skin.

"Baby, welcome back.", you mumbled happily. Turning to him you rubbed your eyes and stifled a yawn.

Oikawa licked his lips as he let his gaze wander over your body. The three weeks apart themselves had not been the problem. It was the promise of your warm form pressed against him and your teasing that made it insufferable.

"I missed you."

"I missed you more, baby." He leaned in for a kiss, bringing his hand further up between your legs and grinned at your moans.

"Do you wanna play a game?", he asked in that special teasing voice that he knew had you surrendering every time.

"What kind of game?"

He chuckled and kissed your neck again, applying more pressure with his hand, making you gasp for air.

"I like to call it Letting the neighbors know I’m back."

You let out the most adorable giggle that might have stopped his heart if all of his blood hadn’t already rushed somewhere else.

"Yes, sounds good."

"Good girl. But first, I think I should make you pay for what you did to me yesterday, don’t you think?"

He reached into your bedside drawer and took out the small pink toy you had teased him with.

"Be good, princess, and I'll reward you after."

With a devilish grin he pulled you towards him and leaned down for a deep kiss, setting the toy against your clit, pressing the button to start.

[greg-montgomery]

Based on the photo you posted earlier, could you write a blurb where fem reader rides Hotch's thigh in his office?

the photo 🫠

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Missed you,” you whine, closing the door behind you.

You make sure to lock it before you walk towards Aaron.

“Me too, honey. I can’t wait till we go home tonight,” he sighs, dropping the pen he’s been holding on the papers in front of him.

“Why wait?” you raise your brow and turn around to shut the blinds of his office.

“Y/N, we’re at work,” he scolds you.

“Oh, I’m aware of that. Isn’t it exciting?” you smirk.

You know he’s definitely getting excited. You picked out his favourite skirt of yours this morning on purpose. And he’s been staring.

“Baby,” he says breathlessly when you move close enough to sit on him and straddle his thigh.

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask, locking eyes with him.

“Don’t,” he replies, placing his hands on your hips. “Don’t.”

“So it’s okay if I do this?” you ask innocently and slowly start rocking yourself against his thigh.

“You wanna use my leg to get off, baby?”

“Mhm.” You bite your bottom lip, already feeling the waves of pleasure go through your body as your clit moves against the fabric of his trousers. “You look so sexy in this suit.”

“Look how desperate my girl is for me.” he whispers and leaves a few open mouthed kisses on your neck. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours? Are you that horny, sweetheart?” he asks in a condescending tone that makes you even more excited. “Hm? Have I made your panties wet while we’re at work?”

“Aaron…”

You have let your head fall on his chest as you’re rubbing yourself against him, but he makes you look at him by grabbing your chin. “No, no hiding. You’re gonna look into my eyes the whole time. Okay, baby?”

“Mmm…” you’re only able to reply, but it’s not enough for him.

“I said ‘Okay, baby?’”

“Okay,” you can’t help but moan; your clit already sensitive from the friction.

Aaron looks so good, you don’t mind staring at him. The feeling of his leg between yours is driving you crazy, but his eyes looking into yours might be even hotter to you.

“That’s it,” he says when you go faster. “That’s it, use me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You’re going faster and faster, desperate to make yourself cum, and Aaron’s voice is only getting you closer to release.

“Gonna cum,” you whine, as quiet as you can.

“Yeah?” he asks, and the next second you see stars from the feeling of pleasure that takes over your body.

“Good girl,” he smiles.

@ssacharcoalgrey bestie i said i was gonna tag you in my blurbs/fics too but i forgot i’m sorry!

[whorekneecentral]

and omg kitchen sex with carlos, ditching the carbonara he was making, in your new home😫🤭🫠

y'all know I love me some carlos <3

Boxes stacked on top of each other lined the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Found it!” You pull out the pan from a box, walking into the kitchen to give your husband. 

Carlos smiles, kissing your temple. “gracias, mi amor.” He takes the pan from you, wiping it clean before setting it on the stove. “You’re cooking? I thought we’d just order in tonight; it’s the first night.” 

“Exactly,” Carlos says, looking at you from the fridge. “That’s exactly why we should cook.” 

“Alright,” you raise your hands in surrender, “knock yourself out.” You left him to cook, you knew he liked to be alone and do his thing. In the meantime, you dig through the boxes for the china you knew you had somewhere and some cutlery. 

Carlos was insistent that you use the good stuff for tonight; ‘sets the tone’ he’d tell you. You find the box with the table clothes, good china and the cutlery. You were sorting through it, the box resting on the chair when you feel him hug you from behind. 

“Your food’s gonna burn,” you remind him when you feel his wandering hand. 

“Haven’t started yet. I realized something,” he starts and you hum, pulling out the light blue table cloth. “We haven’t christened the dining room.” 

You drop the cloth on the table, laughing when you turn around to face your husband. “You’re not serious,” you look at him and he nods, face blank. “I’m serious.”

“Carlos, no!” You smacked his shoulder, “We’re not fucking on the table, people have to eat there!” 

The man laughs, his hand holding yours when he sits on the chair behind him. “I don’t mean the table,” he pulls you to him, letting you get on his lap. Carlos leans in, his lips barely touching yours.  “Get where I'm going?” 

“Mhm hm,” You close the gap, kissing the man. 

It was heavy, heated. His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Carlos’s hands on your ass when he kisses you.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you, what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor. His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit and your hips lift, wanting more from him. 

The tip of his cock rubbing over your clit. You bite back the urge to moan, looking up at him. Your hands grip on his biceps, his lips finding yours when he pushes in all the way, muffling the moans that left your lips. 

“Fuck,” you breath, his thrusts faster and harder. 

Carlos’s hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit; matching the pace of his hips.

Your head falls back when he hits the spot he was looking for. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Carlos wanted one thing and he leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Carlos, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his dark hair as you bounced up and down. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“C’mon,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Carlos’s hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back. 

[emilybahu]

Just a culmination of thoughts I had and moments I liked during 7x06:

This ended up being MUCH longer than an expected, I just kept adding things to it! So you totally don’t need read the whole thing just skim through if you want…

1. Maddie about a minute away from a panic attack, but still looking stunning✨

2. Hen looks like she’s gonna go all angry mom mode on Buck and Eddie, who are looking ROUGH… she gives them a look that should put the fear of god into anyone!

3. You know, I just wanted them to have one major milestone that didn’t involve one or both of them being in danger, but NOOOO! We don’t even know where Chimney is and Buck and Eddie are a complete hit mess! Evan “✨it’s complicated✨” Buckley.

4. Oh my god I love Buck and Eddie and their shared brain cell so much! Their bickering is hilarious! Buck slapping Eddie’s hand away from the sliders and later Eddie saying, “reach for them and you’ll be pulling back a bloody stump!” 🤣🤣🤣

5. RAVI WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DO YOU WANT TO DIE!? 🤣

6. “Wholesome 80s themed karaoke” and Eddie proposing that he and Buck go as Crockett and Tubbs.

7. I kinda figured Chimney wouldn’t show seeing as HE DIDN’T WANT A PARTY. Then everyone leaves and it’s JUST Buck and Eddie, because of course!

8. And back to Buck and Tommy again… Tommy has to go and put out a LITERAL fire and we get a second Buck/Tommy hug in the span of like 3 minutes! I’m getting FED they are so cute and soft, and Tommy really doesn’t want to leave but has no choice… the soft hug and “be safe” I’m sorry my heart is melting! 🫠❤️

9. Buck and Eddie are just having A TIME with all these random people, and of course being the touch starved boys they are, you get a little (a lot) of alcohol in em they obviously need to have physical contact at all times! 🤣

10. Drunk Buck being like “we don’t have a key🥺” and Drunk Eddie “you don’t need a key,” (hand on shoulder, thumb on pulse point) “we’re fire fighters👨‍🚒😈” continues to kick in the door!

11. CHAOS ENTERS THE BUILDING, I couldn’t stop laughing! Honestly I didn’t realize Buck and Eddie could party this hard! Buck wakes up on the floor, Eddie’s in the bath tub (a shirt? What’s that? Never heard of it) and Chimney is FUCKING NO WHERE TO BE FOUND! 😬

12. Cut to Maddie desperately trying to get ahold of Chimney and track him down, but he’s somewhere in his car dazed, confused and clearly UNWELL! And his car gets freaking stolen!

13. The dinner celebrating Kevin’s life 🥲

14. Gosh dang it, everyone in the room together worried about Chimney, god my heart! I hope they find him soon!

15. Maddie showing up at the dispatch center in her wedding dress! The woman means business! SHE GONNA FIND HER MAN!

16. Doug, DOUG!? What are you doing torturing Chimney in his subconscious!? No one wants you here!

17. Seeing Maddie’s reaction to Chimney in this state is heartbreaking! She just wants to make sure he’s ok, but he’s clearly not!😢

18. Bruh, we keep getting jump scared by Doug, I’m so DONE with that guy!

19. Time jump to two weeks earlier… “telling Buck ‘no’ is like telling a dog not to jump your leg” just more proof that Buck is a man with the soul of a golden retriever puppy…🤣

20. Bobby saying “well evidently our two love birds over there were enjoying some sexy time, when they heard some weeping” had me wheezing! 😂

21. When they figured out what was wrong with Chimney I got so scared, even though I knew he’d likely be fine. Never know what might happen though…

22. When Chimney’s paramedic skills kicked back in it gave me hope, then he saw Doug again… and still didn’t remember that he’s actually a paramedic.

23. He knows he needs to be somewhere and he hears Buck calling for him, Chimney knows they’re looking for him, then freaking Doug makes him almost give up fighting! 🥲

24. NO DOUG🙄 MADDIE DIDN’T FUCKING LIKE BEING ABUSED!

25. KEVIN🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Kevin telling Chimney he NEEDS to get up and get help!

26. Maddie in the hospital with Chimney, thinking he doesn’t remember her then him saying “I’m sorry I missed our wedding” GOD MY HEART!

27. Jee running in yelling “daddy!” 🥹

28. “We always get back to each other somehow” please! My heart can’t handle this! They’re meant to be!!🥹😭

29. “I know Kevin is smiling right now” “yeah he is” I can’t breathe! I’m shocked I didn’t cry!

30. Just the whole ceremony, Bobby officiating! Everyone so happy for them together after this day they’ve had! I’m just gonna melt into a puddle of pure emotion! 🥹🥺

31. I love them. I love them! I LOVE THEM!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

32. Buck looking down at his phone to see that Tommy told him he’s there 🤭🤭

33. I made a whole post about this kiss, ahhhhhh!! (My reaction remains the same every time I watch it, I lose control of my limbs, my voice gets all high and squeaky, and I lose the ability to form actual words) The damn 10 second scene still has me SHOOK! 😆🫨

34. Buck pulling Tommy into the room, Tommy apologizing for missing the ceremony and Chimney looking up at him and over to Buck and saying “Thanks tommy, looks like you were… busy” (I didn’t even think about how long Buck was gone before, but since they had time to cut and serve cake to everyone Buck had to be just in another world with Tommy for at least 20 minutes…)

35. Hen’s face when she realizes that Buck and Tommy totally were just making out! And Eddie being the supportive king of a bff that the is!

36. The Buckley parents faces… I’ll be ready to throw hands in a second if they say something homophobic later on!

37. Hen saying “well it’s about damn time” to Karen!! Ahhhhhh! Girlllll!!! Are telling me you could see Buck’s raging bisexuality THE WHOLE TIME!? 😆😆😆😆 She so CLOCKED HIM!

38. Chimney feels right at home anywhere if he and Maddie are together!! ❤️🫠🥹

39. Not them mentioning the cruise ship!! Too soon, too soon! 🫠 But I also laughed!😂

40. “So, were Buck and Tommy a thing before my amnesia?” “Um yeah, actually they were.” (Still trying to figure out how much time there was between the coffee date and the wedding… I have no clue. [Please can someone tell me!?])

41. “Why do they call me Chimney?” And cut to black…. Really, REALLY!? That was cruel, so rude. They’re never gonna tell us why they call him Chimney are they?

And that’s the end!

[cieloclercs]

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 , cl16 — chapter five

pairing. charles leclerc x senna!oc part. 5/? warnings. basically just pure angst 🫠 yeah it’s gonna be like that for a while 😭 swearing, arthur is such an icon in this icl word count. 5.7k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

05. everything changes (nothing changes)

author’s note. so i’ve had this chapter written for about 2 months. no i don’t have an excuse as to why i haven’t posted it yet 🫠 but i figured i’m going through a bit of a dry spell in my writing at the moment so i may as well post it 😭 hope you guys enjoy, and as always, please leave a comment or reblog if you did !! <3

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter four next ➜ chapter six

Nice Côte d'Azur Airport 8 February 2021

NOA DOESN’T SEE Charles for another two weeks. She doesn’t hear from him either, not including his brief message confirming her flight’s arrival time. He’s giving her space, just as promised, and she finds herself grateful for that. The time in between their meeting at the café and the looming date of her temporary move to Monaco is for setting the record straight. When Noa breaks the news to her parents, they immediately assume the best of the situation – they’ve patched things up, got over themselves and finally rekindled their friendship. She flushes bright red when she has to cut off her mother’s delighted cheers, and her heart aches to see the grin on her face fall. We’re not friends, she tells them firmly, despite the pain it causes her. Noa is doing this for her career, not for some distant, nostalgic memory of the boy she’d once thought the world of. No. It’s her turn to be selfish for once.

Flávia is understandably upset. Just as Pascale considers Noa to be like her daughter, she has always viewed Charles as a second son. Even though she tries to deny it on several occasions over the weeks before Noa’s flight to Monaco, she isn’t stupid. The first few months after she and Charles stopped speaking to each other, Flávia had been fairly vocal about what she thought of the whole situation. She understood the hurt that they were both feeling, but as far as she was concerned, they still needed each other. Her greatest fear was that they would both continue to grow into the cut-throat world of racing without the person they trusted most at their side. As someone who experienced how difficult life could be at the pinnacle of motorsports, even as only a family member of one of the racers, Flávia worries for them. She had Gabriel to lean on after Ayrton’s death – her best friend and the love of her life. Noa and Charles, as long as they’re apart, don’t have that.

Speaking of her father, he seems to understand her reasoning a little more. Gabriel Borges is ambitious if nothing else. He fought tooth and nail to win his championships and solidify his place in the Formula 1 hall of fame. It’s a trait he’s passed on to his daughter. Sponsorships like this are important now, with racing becoming more and more lucrative with each passing season. In order to succeed, a driver needs the backing of some of the most influential brands in the world. For a rookie, it simply doesn’t get bigger than Chanel. Both Noa and Gabriel know that this is an opportunity she can’t pass up, no matter how difficult it may be for her with Charles there. They need to make it work.

He may not necessarily agree with her ‘keep him at arm’s length’ approach, but if that’s what she thinks is going to work for her, then Gabriel will support her through it.

With Luiz and Eloísa settling into their apartment in Italy, it’s only her parents who wave her goodbye at the airport. Noa has never been a fan of flying. The seats are too cramped and the people too noisy – she can never find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep. Sometimes it can be peaceful simply watching the world pass by beneath her from the window, but eventually, miles upon miles of ocean gets a little boring. So Noa spends the first thirteen hours of her flight wide awake, silently begging the couple in front of her to do something about their screaming baby. Stopping off at Heathrow for the change over feels like a slice of heaven. Just to be able to get up and stretch her legs for a little while is pure bliss. But within an hour she’s back on a different plane, looking down over the English Channel, over Normandy and eventually, the south of France. The nerves begin to set in then. There’s no going back once this plane lands – she’ll be stuck in Monaco with the person she most wants to avoid in the world for the next three weeks. Granted, she’ll have her second family there with her too, but Noa doubts she’ll be able to shake the awkward feeling even when they’re around.

Jetlag’s a bitch, is all she can think when she steps off the plane and into the harsh winter sunlight. It makes her skull ache, beating down on her, yet offering little to no warmth – typical Europe. If only it was summer here like back home. She’s grown accustomed to heat in the high twenties and sleeping with all the windows open. Checking the weather app on her phone, she sees that right now the temperature is barely breaking ten degrees. Lovely. On top of that, Noa hasn’t slept for practically an entire day. She can already imagine the headlines if she gets photographed – Gabriel Borges’ daughter spotted wandering airport sleep-deprived and wearing no makeup! The press would have a field day with that one.

She just about manages to haul her suitcase through security before collapsing on one of the lobby benches. It’s her own fault for overpacking, really. She’s never been one to prioritise well when it comes to clothes. Noa pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly refreshing it to see if Charles has messaged her yet – sure enough, sent seven minutes ago: I’m outside. Do you want me to come in and help with your bags? Despite the contempt she still feels towards him, Noa could have cried with pure joy. She sends back a brief yes before struggling up off the bench, all but dragging her luggage through the lobby now. She can only hope he gets here quickly, because her arms are surely about to come out of their sockets if she has to carry these any further.

When his figure appears in the distance, the nerves return. He’s dressed like he doesn’t want to be spotted, in a grey hoodie and shorts, large enough that he can practically hide the entirety of his face in the collar. No one seems to notice him. For the moment anyway. When Charles eventually spots her, he seems to hesitate for a moment – like she’d seen him do at the café, arms hanging uselessly by his side as if he wants to outstretch them towards her, but remembers at the last minute that he can’t do that anymore. Noa’s eyes are glued to the ground as she walks towards him. They meet in the middle. He murmurs a brief hello, and when she doesn’t reply, takes her bags without another word.

They walk out to his car in silence. It’s a black Mercedes G63 – inconspicuous by his standards, and perhaps those of the travellers milling around them (many of them are en route to Monaco, after all). It has black tinted windows, she notices. Charles tells her to climb into the passenger seat while he loads her bags into the back. She hasn’t the energy left to complain. It takes everything in her not to fall asleep as soon as she’s sat down, eyes drooping in the dimmed light, a hazy warmth taking over her body. She jumps slightly as Charles opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. He starts the engine. Before Noa can really process what’s going on around her, they’ve already left the airport.

"How was your flight?" Charles asks after a few minutes, soft spoken and hesitant. An absentminded hum is what greets him.

"It was alright." she murmurs back, fighting off the sudden urge to yawn. There's an edge of discontentedness in her voice, an air of frustration and annoyance about her. Noa has always hated flying, he thinks. Even as children all those years ago, she'd kick up the biggest fuss possible before so much as stepping foot on a plane. His mother always joked about it being because she can't sit still for more than a few hours, which, he supposes, had a fair amount of truth. Charles knows it's because the whole thing made her anxious. He's held her hand at takeoff enough times to have realised it, even if she never spoke the words to him out loud.  The memory almost makes him smile. Then he remembers where he is, and his jaw clenches shut.

“Just to let you know, Maman, Arthur and Lorenzo will all be home when we arrive.” Charles is, once again, the one to speak up when they lapse into silence, “They’ve planned a, uh, sort of welcome home – welcome back meal.” He relays, glancing at Noa anxiously out of the corner of his eye. She’s slumped in her seat. The only sign she’s even listening to him is the tiny hum she lets out. “I can tell them you’re too tired to do it today, though, if you’d like. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind pushing it back to tomorrow –“

“No, it’s fine.” Noa cuts across him quickly. “That’s really sweet of them.”

Charles nods. He thinks back to that morning; helping Lorenzo pin up the ‘welcome home’ banner above the archway leading from the kitchen to the living room; watching with a wistful smile as his mother set out a tray of paçoca, the little cylinders of peanut butter Noa used to love when they were younger, on the kitchen table. Where she managed to get hold of them Charles doesn’t know, considering they’re a sweet pretty much exclusive to Brazil. He tries not to think about how Noa will react to it all. The thought digs up old memories he'd rather stayed buried, for the sake of his heart.

“If you want you can get some sleep now. I know you’re probably jetlagged.” He speaks up again after a beat of silence, quieter this time, “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Noa doesn’t reply for a moment. She’s still turned away from him ever so slightly, but as he glances to the side, he can see her expression reflected in the window. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, biting down hard from the looks of it. He doesn’t know if it’s his imagination, but her eyes appear glossy, brimming with unshed tears. There’s an ache in his heart that he’s not sure how to properly describe. Cathartic might be the only word close enough. It hurts, but at the same time, it’s almost freeing.

“If that’s ok with you.” She finally speaks, after what feels like an age. Her head turns to the side until she’s looking at him. Charles keeps his gaze on the road, but he can see her in his periphery.

“Of course.” He mumbles, a little hoarse. His heart is screaming at his head to turn, to smile at her, to show a little of the warmth they used to share for each other, in the wildest, most fanciful hope she may be reminded of it and find it in herself to forgive him there and then. In the end, he doesn’t turn. Instead, he hears the faint rustling of fabric on skin as Noa curls up a little to the side, leaning her head against the window. It falls silent again. Now Charles is the one with glossed over eyes, battling himself.

“Thank you.” Her voice, melodic as ever, cuts through the quiet. This time he does turn – but she’s not looking at him, already half asleep, eyes closed and fluttering ever so slightly underneath their lids. He watches her until he runs the risk of coming off the road. Charles knows she’s already asleep before he has the chance to say anything in reply.

Noa tends to have very vivid dreams. She remembers many a time closing her eyes and being greeted with an explosion of colour, scarlet race cars screaming down asphalt tracks, her flag: emerald, gold, deep blue, waving her across the finish line. A glinting trophy is thrust into her hands, and she lifts it high into the air, watching the crowd raise up their arms with her – a sea of red and yellow. But today, Noa closes her eyes and sees nothing but darkness. Charles is nudging her gently awake, it seems, less than a split second after falling into her slumber. Bleary-eyed, she sits up. The Leclerc house, her second home, sits gleaming in the frosty winter sunlight like a beacon. A thrill of excitement grips her heart. It’s been so long since she’s seen Pascale and Lorenzo – far, far too long. Her head turns, a half-smile on her face, to find Charles watching her. It falls. The sky seems to darken.

“You ready to go?” he asks. Noa nods solemnly, waiting for him to open the car door and climb out before sucking in a deep, shuddering breath. When she too steps out onto the pavement, her expression is steeled.

Charles is holding her bags in either of his hands. He gives her a look that, after years of knowing each other, she can interpret in an instant – Don’t even try it, I’m taking them in for you. She feels a small surge of gratefulness, but every positive emotion seems to be drowned out by her crushing nerves right now. Noa’s not exactly sure why she feels so nervous. These people are her second family, after all. Maybe it’s the nagging fear in the back of her mind that too much has changed; that things will never go back to the happy, perfect way they used to be.

The doorbell ringing brings her back the present. They’re stood on the front porch now, shoulder to shoulder, tense and stiff. Noa pulls at a loose thread on her joggers, focussing with absolute resolve on the door in front of her – paint peeling away ever so slightly at the edge. She knows if she brushed her fingers over it, they would come away dusted with white paint flakes. A second, maybe two passes. The door swings open.

All her nerves simply melt away as soon as she sees Pascale; arms already held out wide and motherly, eyes glistening with soon-to-be-shed tears, and the most genuine smile Noa has ever seen anyone wear. She looks only slightly older than she remembers. A few more wrinkles perhaps, a couple more grey hairs, but in essence, exactly the same. Constant. At least this much hasn’t changed.

“Ma fille!” My girl. Pascale gasps loudly. She’s rushing forwards, pulling Noa inside and engulfing her in a hug before she even knows what is happening – but the familiarity of it is so easy to melt into. The young woman rests her forehead briefly against her shoulder, suddenly unable to stop smiling, when before she’d been wondering how she would manage to fake one. Of course, she’s known all along how much she’s missed Pascale. The woman has been like a second mother to her for practically a decade. But being here now makes her realise the full force of the emotion. It feels like returning home after a long vacation, when all you want to do is sleep in the comfort of your own bed and relish in the sensation of being utterly safe. That’s how Pascale feels to Noa. Safe.

“Oh, look at you!” she gasps again, pulling away to place her hands on either of Noa’s cheeks. “You’ve grown so beautiful!”

In the two years it’s been since she last saw the Leclercs, Noa has blossomed. From a scrawny eighteen-year-old with skinny elbows and seemingly untameable curls, she’s truly grown into herself. Thanks to training, she’s attained the ‘athlete’s build’ she always craved as a teenager. Days spent soaking up the Brazilian sun on Ipanema beach have bronzed her skin, giving it an almost golden hue. Perhaps it’s the salt air, but even Noa’s unruly curls seem to have matured – instead of going frizzy in the heat and falling messily over her eyes, they now frame her tanned face perfectly. Honeyed streaks of blonde run all the way through to the ends. She looks different, she knows that. But it never hits her until she meets people again who have been absent from her life for years.

“Thank you.” Noa can’t help but giggle. Pascale merely holds her tighter, seemingly inspecting every inch of her face for anything else that may have changed. She can see the surprise and the elation in her eyes – but there’s sadness too, an odd mixture, as if she’s battling with regret. Noa supposes it’s to be expected. They went from seeing each other at least every month to all but no contact for two years. Pascale is as affected by it as she is.

As soon as Noa is released from her grip, she turns to face the other Leclerc brothers, who have been watching the whole time with fond smiles and wide eyes. She goes to Lorenzo first, since Arthur has already seen her fairly recently. The eldest of the brothers opens him arms to her gladly, and she steps straight into them. Lorenzo has always been like her protector. As the boys got older and, as boys tended to do, teased her or played too rough (case in point Arthur almost drowning her at the beach one time), he was always the one to give her a hug and scold them afterwards. With only little brothers (Charles didn’t count, as her best friend), Lorenzo was to her the older brother she never had but always found herself wishing for.

“Woah, how much have you grown? A foot?” he says, pulling away only slightly so her arms are still clasped around his back, and his come to rest on her shoulders. Noa giggles softly. It was a long standing joke that, even at eighteen, she barely rose to the height of Charles or Lorenzo’s shoulder. Miraculously, her long-awaited growth spurt arrived once most girls her age stopped growing entirely. Now she stands at a fairly respectable five foot six – though still short enough for Lorenzo to use her head as an arm rest, he quickly realises. Noa waves him away with a playful glare.

“Did he talk to you in the car? Or was it deathly silent?” he asks, not even needed to use Charles’ name for her to know exactly who he is talking about. His eyebrows raise as if he’s joking, but Noa can sense the hard edge of frustration in his voice. She smiles at him sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t know. I fell asleep.”

Lorenzo snorts. That’s all they say on the matter, because Arthur is soon weaselling his way in between them to give her a welcome hug. Apparently, a minute is far too long for his brother to spend with her whilst he’s stuck waiting on the sidelines.

Charles’ feet padding on the carpeted staircase draw Noa’s eyes unwillingly to him. She hadn’t even noticed him exit the room, too caught up in reunions and holding back tears to pay much attention to her surroundings. He’s taken her bags up to her room, he tells her. She merely nods in reply. The tension doesn’t remain for long – Pascale doesn’t let it. Soon enough, everyone is gathering in the kitchen, all proud, knowing smiles from the Leclercs and gasps from Noa as she catches sight of the ‘welcome home’ banner strung up across the archway. She’d known, of course, that they were planning something, thanks to Charles’ warning, but she didn’t expect something like this. They’ve brought another long, wooden table from God knows where into the room, placing it end to end with the main kitchen table to make more room for the spread set out across it. A white floral tablecloth covers the wood, and on top of it, tiered stands of seemingly all the food she could ever eat – fresh strawberries, watermelon, French cheese (which Noa had been introduced to by the Leclercs, and was shocked to find she actually loved), pineapple, even some chocolate and cupcakes (something she’ll later say is just a one off to her nutritionist), and finally, in the very centre, a bowl full of paçoca, her favourite childhood sweet. She remembers Charles calling her strange for essentially eating peanut butter on its own – but even today, it really is her one weakness.

“Oh, meu Deus.” Oh my God. She whispers. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, holding back the half-sob she can feel bubbling up in her throat. “This – this is too much. You really didn’t have to –“

“Noa.” It’s Arthur that cuts her off, rolling his eyes fondly, “Just let us do something nice for you. Call it a late birthday gift.” He adds with a smirk. Noa scoffs. A part of her had thought maybe they wouldn’t remember her birthday – of course, she was wrong about that.

“This is amazing.” She speaks up softly after a moment, “Thank you so much.” Her throat closes around the words ever-so-slightly, vision blurring, heart aching in the best way possible. Pascale moves forward to pull her body into hers, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“We missed you so much, petit ange.” She murmurs, “We’re just glad to have you back with us.”

I’m glad too, Noa thinks. She’s not naïve enough to believe it will all be smooth sailing from here; not as long as the pair of sad green eyes burning into her back remain. But this, she believes fully, this she can deal with. Reuniting with her second family has been a long time coming.

They eat like it’s the old times, bar Noa and Charles’ playful bickering (fallen flat, almost dead now). Pascale insists on piling her plate as high as possible, mumbling something about athlete’s diets being too sparse (or at least, that’s what she could make out with her questionable French vocabulary). Arthur doesn’t spare a thought before diving straight into the cupcake and chocolate stand, ignoring his mother’s protests about him letting their ‘guest’ choose first. Lorenzo opts for the fresh fruit more than the confectionary. Charles tries to resist the pull of sugar, better than Arthur admittedly, but his attempts are short lived. By any right, that amount of food should never disappear as quickly as it does – but before they know it, every last morsel is gone. Noa sits back in her seat, deep in conversation with Pascale about latest goings on in her family life, finding her eyes growing heavier with each passing second. Everything around her feels pleasantly hazy; comfortable. It’s the same way she feels sat at home with her parents and her brother after a good meal, lounged on the living room sofas watching cheesy Brazilian telenovelas. Like she’s safe to just be herself.

Pascale tells Lorenzo, Charles and Arthur to collect all the dirty plates and begin the washing up. They know that refusing isn’t an option, so it isn’t long before she and Noa are alone. It must be mid-afternoon by now, the Brazilian woman thinks, but her limbs are as heavy as if she’s stayed up all night and well into the morning – which, she supposes, technically she has. Pascale is observant enough to have already noticed, luckily for her. They’ve spent all of five minutes talking in the living room when she tells her to go up to her room and sleep off the jet lag.

“Oh, but –“ Noa is quick to interject, “I haven’t even asked how things are going for you yet.” She says guiltily. Pascale has been so fixated on catching up with every single moment of the last two years she has missed, that there hasn’t even been time to cover anything else. Noa is acutely aware that the last time they saw each other, it had only been a year since Hervé passed away. She knows as well as anybody that sometimes the people that look the most put-together are the ones who are struggling the most. She just wants to make certain that Pascale is doing ok – truly ok.

“I’ll still be here tomorrow.” The woman reassures her with a gentle chuckle. Noa’s concerned expression falls into a tired, but content smile. That’s the beauty of it – right now, they really do have all the time in the world to catch up. Until of course the new season begins. But three weeks before her soon-to-be packed schedule feels like a lifetime.

Noa retreats slowly upstairs, not so much as sparing a glance towards her unpacked bags, or even attempting to change out of her airport clothes before she collapses onto the bed, and almost immediately falls straight to sleep. The ease with which she already seems to have slipped back into life in the Leclerc house (which almost feels like home) is unexpected, but by no means unwelcome. She just hopes she’ll be able to carry that feeling of safety with her into the coming weeks, when undoubtedly, some difficult conversations will need to be had.

By the time the Leclerc brothers have finished the washing up – a difficult task, what with Charles and Arthur squabbling over who gets to dry the plates and who has to do the unpleasant job of actually washing them, whilst Lorenzo, serene as ever, allocates himself the task of sorting the various items of crockery away – Pascale is sat alone in the living room. She looks calm, quietly assured, but at the same time, they can sense a level of disappointment that wasn’t there before. Charles fears, before his mother’s gaze even turns in his direction, that that disappointment is meant for him.

“Où est allée Noa?” Where did Noa go? Lorenzo asks, taking the seat next to Pascale and looping his arm fondly around her shoulders. Arthur, not so delicately, throws himself face down on the long sofa facing the television, leaving Charles to occupy the lone arm chair on the other side of the room. It’s ironic, that he’s separated from his family that way, when he’s been feeling separated emotionally for far longer.

“A l'étage. Pour dormir.” Upstairs. To sleep. Pascale answers, soft-spoken as ever. Lorenzo nods, as Arthur flips his body around on the sofa so he’s no longer lying face down, but rather looking up towards the ceiling.

“Ah. Le décalage horaire?” Ah. Jet lag?

“Oui.”

Charles stays quiet. He knows full well his family are waiting for him to say something – maybe they’re not sure what, but then again, he isn’t either. Noa hasn’t spoken a single word to him. All of her attention has been directed towards his mum and her questions, or to his brothers and their playful teasing about how much she’s grown. That still doesn’t take away from the fact that he knows she’s doing it on purpose. Most of him doesn’t blame her, but there’s a small part in the back of his mind that feels almost…betrayed. It takes two to end a friendship, after all. Noa didn’t exactly attempt to salvage the wreck they’d made.

“Well I think that went pretty well.” Arthur speaks up first in French, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed over his stomach. Charles looks over, trying to catch his eye. He must sense it, but his gaze remains turned away. Another beat of silence passes.

“She’s quieter.” Lorenzo says thoughtfully. He’s right too. It’s not just in the way that she doesn’t talk half as much as she used to, it’s something in her demeanour as well. There used to be a spark in Noa’s eye that Charles would look towards whenever he needed cheering up. Now when he searches for it, there’s layers upon layers shrouding the once happy memory. Like he’s peering through thick fog, trying to make out a landscape he’s long since forgotten.

“Je ne suis pas surpris.” I’m not surprised. Arthur muses. All eyes turn to him, Lorenzo frowning, Pascale already prepared to question what exactly he means by that. Charles thinks he knows. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious isn’t it?” the youngest of the Leclercs scoffs, sitting up from his relaxed position on the sofa. His eyes are dark, frustrated, perhaps even angry. “First he takes her chance at being offered a Formula 1 seat – with Ferrari, her dream team.” Arthur begins, jabbing a harsh finger in Charles’ direction. He winces, “Then her mother almost dies, and she has to give up her career just to be with her. She’s a Senna Borges. Racing is in her blood. And we all know how hard she worked, just to fall short at the final hurdle – not even through her own fault.” He takes a pause to breathe, eyes now blazing. Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale sit watching in some kind of fascinated horror. It’s rare to see Arthur so worked up. He’s always been the kind of person that can make light of any situation, no matter how grim. But there’s something about Noa and the cruel hand she’s been dealt in life lately that makes his blood boil.

“Now she’s finally made it to Formula 1, where she deserves to be, but she’s also stuck with the person who ruined that dream for her the first time around.” He goes on, turning now to Charles, “Look, I don’t care about what happened between you two. There’s nothing you can do to change it now. But Noa is like a sister to me, and as long as you both refuse to talk to each other, we’re never going to feel like a family to her again. Like we used to.” Arthur speaks, almost alarmingly softly, his jaw clenched hard, “For once just stop being so selfish and look at this from someone else’s perspective. Preferably hers. You know you owe it to her after –“

“Arthur!” Pascale’s voice cuts through the tense atmosphere like a knife, silencing her youngest son immediately, “Do not call your brother selfish. You don’t understand the full story – none of us do.”

That seems to bring him back to his senses. Everything falls silent, but also on the brink of chaos, teetering on a knife edge. Nobody except Lorenzo notices the faint tremor in Pascale’s hand, which he tries to quell by rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. Charles is sat, rigid back, white knuckles, in the arm chair, glaring at Arthur from across the room. Meanwhile the aforementioned blinks as if he’s just awakened from a trance.

"Je suis désolé." I’m sorry. He murmurs, “I don’t know what –“

“Maman’s right.” Charles cuts him off tersely, “You don’t know the full story. You don’t know the things I said to her that night, or the things she said to me…” he trails off, breathing shakily even at the memory of it, “But you’re also right. I took the opportunity of a lifetime from her. She has every right to be angry at me, every right to hate me. That’s why I’m trying to make this right – and believe me, Arthur, I am trying. It’s just…it’s hard.” Charles’ gaze drops to the ground, almost shamefully, “So much has changed.”

Guilt is the most overwhelming part of this whole mess. Even though much of the misfortune that Noa has endured in the past two years has been entirely unrelated to him, he still can’t help but feel partly responsible. Perhaps it was his actions, something at the time he considered to be a mercy, that began the snowball effect. Perhaps if he’d never accepted Ferrari’s call, even though he so desperately wanted it, everything would be as perfect as he remembers. There’s so much uncertainty it’s impossible to predict. But Charles knows, at least from his side of the story, ever since the moment Noa walked out of his life, it’s gradually been growing duller and duller and duller. In a sick sort of way, he half hopes it has been the same for her.

“You do know she could never hate you, right?” Arthur speaks up softly. Charles’ gaze lifts from the ground, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively, “Mon dieu you’re both so stubborn.” He laughs humourlessly, shaking his head, “Noa may act like she can’t even look at you right now, but I know her just as well as you do. Maybe even better now, if you can’t see it.” He arches an eyebrow, “She’s hurting, Charles. You know what she does when she’s hurting? She pushes the people she cares about the most away.”

Winter break, 2014, Charles thinks. Of course. How could he forget?

“I’m just saying,” Arthur goes on, “If you mess this up any more than you already have, then she will end up hating you. But I can see it. Right now, she doesn’t. Not even close.”

Later, Pascale says something to him of the same effect. Hurt can fester. There are only two ways that things can go from here, with them both being kept so close to each other for the first time in so long. Either it brings them closer together – they work through their differences, overcome the mountains that stand in their way, and emerge on the other side even stronger because of it. Or, they’ll push each other away.

“I know what I would do if I were you.” Pascale tells him solemnly, “But you two need to figure this out on your own.”

It’s easy to say that, Charles thinks, when you haven’t made the mistakes they’ve both made. It’s so easy to imagine himself explaining how he thought he’d be protecting her by not telling her Ferrari had approached him. In his mind, she’ll listen and understand, and everything will go back to the way it used to be. But every time he runs the words he might say to her through his mind, he draws a blank. What mere words can salvage the ruins of a near decade-long friendship? What words can do justice the longing he feels to have her back in his life, not just as a distant memory, a relative stranger, but as his best friend. And even if he could find the words, there’s no guarantee Noa will even listen to them. Despite everything, she seems set on keeping her distance. Maybe Charles doesn’t blame her. Or maybe he wishes she’d fight a little harder.

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