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oh-saints · 1 year

Note

ruben dias and daughter of pep guardiola.

man.. when i got this request, all i keep thinking about is some forbidden, enemy-to-lovers trope so here it is! i hope you like it!

enemy

you and rúben dias can never be in the same room and it's the main reason why your father's head balding. so what changes?

rúben dias x guardiola!reader

word count: 4.2k

tw: 18+ for graphic sexual contents included inside (aka a sprinkle of smut); drinking, swearing, unprotected sex (and some angry/hate sex)

note: i was writing something along the line of enemy-to-lovers but got stuck midway until this request came in from @kkilp so here we are. my first smut? dang that feels weird saying it was also inspired mildly by anthony and kate of bridgerton (TV series; s2, 2021) but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so ofc this is not proof-read and feedbacks are always welcome! (now lemme go back to repent my sin and go back writing the charles leclerc story i've got...)

“another flower from your daughter, isn’t it?”

rúben could hear one of the coaching staffs commented pep as the spaniard walked in with a huge bouquet of varied flowers on his arms, almost blinding the old man’s sight for direction. pep only laughed to answer his staff’s clarificatory question because it had indeed become a habit for that particular daughter of his to send a humongous array of flowers to her father whenever he and his team won something.

last night happened to be the time when the team had won another EPL title. thus, the biggest arrangement being sent to her father’s office. it was funny for some as she always matches the size to the prestigious level of a trophy.

but of course the entire building loves her. she’d sent each and everyone in this building a bouquet, directly to their houses, albeit in smaller size than the ones delivered for her father. but still, complete with the words hard work always pays off. congratulations, champions! typed perfectly in the middle of the card.

being a florist, she’d also send a basket to anyone who was celebrating with carnations, anyone who was newly having kids with hydrangeas, anyone who was injured with sunflowers.

but him.

he’d like to think himself as someone not petty so no—it wasn’t because he didn’t get a bouquet for himself. he could buy himself one so big the smell would’ve made him throw up for days if a mere basket of flowers was his problem. he just didn’t understand why people couldn’t see how she acted beyond the artificial care and love she’d faked behind those flowers.

rúben was probably the only one who couldn’t relate towards all of the love directed towards her. he could only hope the people would soon belief what he’d gone through, as everybody thought he was crazy for saying she was cold, aloof and rather unfriendly as of late.

as of late being the key word here because god damnit, they used to be so… close? well, he thought they were close but it seemed that for her, they were amicable at best. because one day, she just started to shut him off and she wasn’t shy to show him that. and only to him, no one else. no one of close friends would—and could—do that overnight.

it was similar to those mean girls kind of story plot where you know she’d give you scrutiny so directly but so indirectly in the eyes of everyone else. except that the ending was no where near, unfortunately, for she was now sporting off the cold shoulder to him throughout the whole EPL celebratory party.

rúben was inclined to believe she intended to rile him up even, as she danced the night away with those crazy drunkards he called his teammates. jack, kyle, john amongst the name. he prides himself in moderate amount every time he drinks and he intends to keep it while he’s still an active athlete, but fucking hell did he want to drink till his head bang in the same rhythm as the bass pounding the dance floor.

he just wanted to barge in the midst of the group and had fun with her, just like they used to back when he was still in his freshman year on the etihad side. if she didn’t like it, then good. it gave him the chance for confrontation of whatever it is she was doing.

fuck it, he’d said to himself as he got up from his seat, tired of being the sober friend to a bunch of kids. might as well have my fair share of fun, even if it didn’t involve getting her into the picture.

but in all honesty, she’d seen this move of his. this was what solidified her justification of staying away from him. the moment he was bored out of his mind, that was when he started preying for another long-legged bimbo to bring home.

she could only pray for the woman’s well-being afterwards because she’d learned it the hard way.

for her, rúben was siren personified. he’d talk his way to your pants, feeding you to his soul until you’re left dry. thank god he didn’t make it way past the whole sexual thing—she’d kept him at bay for so long that he’d got bored and the moment she was about to give in was the moment she found out about him moving on.

that night, when she dropped by his house for an impromptu netflix and chill session, when she was ready to accept whatever his advances that night. only for his leading lady to greet her by the door, wearing only lingerie and his shirt unbuttoned.

despite them going apart now, it never soothed her heartbreak.

but she had to see him all the time, thanks to her father’s job. that fact upset her beyond belief that she couldn’t seem to escape him. especially when everyone talks highly of him, when everyone loves him.

there were so many times she wanted to spill out the hot tea but she resisted because it wouldn’t do any good—for her, for him, for her father, for anyone. people would take her as a bitter bitch that didn’t get the dick, she’d held higher regards for herself than to stoop so low.

“let him go and have fun with me.”

the club’s lightning was too dark for her to make out who the hell that was, whispering behind her like he had the world in his palm. obnoxious dick, she’d muttered to herself.

“what did you just say?”

“go away.”

men, couldn’t take a no for his answer as he grabbed her wrist rather harsh, trying to exert some power over her. “no, you didn’t—"

“she said go away, mate,” weird how she knew it was rúben standing behind her before she could see him. “which part of that sentence did you not understand? should i cut off your hands instead?”

the stranger tried to hard not to be intimidated by rúben’s stare but his grip on her hands said the otherwise. “you wouldn’t.”

“would you like to try?”

if she wasn’t just assaulted by the man, she would’ve taken a pity because rúben seething anger and deep distaste like you’re a disgusting human being that doesn’t deserve to live wasn’t something she’d like to experience herself.

“are you okay?”

she didn’t realise she was watching the man scurried off as if he’d caught on fire when rúben went ahead and touched her herself. she’d froze at her place, not knowing where to stand because his hand was placed exactly where the unwanted touch happened—partly she got reminded of what had just happened to her, partly she’d gladly take rúben’s touch over anyone else she didn’t know of.

“hey, you’re okay?”

she couldn’t comprehend what was happening and it felt suffocating to be the centre of everyone’s attention, so she dashed for the restroom for a bit of space.

“talk to me,” she could hear rúben’s voice from the other side of the door, solid 10 minutes after she entered the loo. he’d understood, she whispered to herself as if it was a wonder rúben was smarter than he let on. “please say you’re okay.”

as if she didn’t know the rúben that deserted her for another woman.

god, she hated him for doing this to her. “go away, rúben!”

“like hell i will,” he spat ferociously behind the doors that it startled her. but the soft voice that followed after was more shocking it ran shivers down her back. “i need to know you’re okay.”

the caring thought that laced his words didn’t escape her because she knew, no matter of an asshole rúben was, rúben was always genuine with his words. it was his past actions and the difference between actions and words that scarred her for life—well, at least up until now.

but it was enough for her to choose to shut up instead of acting based on her turmoil of emotions. she’d silently tidy up, fixing her hair and lipstick, while watching the women coming out of the loos one by one till it was only her left. in hope he’d left if she stayed inside for far too long for his liking, then she could sneak out of this place from the backdoor.

all plans were shattered, though, when the door slammed wide open and revealed rúben bulldozing his way inside like a monster truck exhibition. the veins on his arms and neck was bulging angrily, as angry as his face.

“what the fu—”

“i said i need to know you’re okay,” after he spit the words as if that should be obvious to her, he then proceeded to lock the door behind him. “didn’t you hear?”

cowards, afraid anyone walk on you in a woman’s bathroom? “i did, but it doesn’t mean i have to answer you.”

“puta madre,” if she didn’t hold on to the painful memory he’d learned spanish from the ex-girlfriend she met one night too long ago, she’d go meek and weak at his impeccable multilingual tongue. “you’re so frustrating! why is it so hard for you to tell me so?”

“why do want to know?”

“because some asshole just groped you in the ass!” one of his hands shot towards her direction, gesturing from her head to toe in frustration. of her not seeing his point. “surely you’re not okay. no one is after such terrible event.”

“there, you said it youself. i’m not okay,” she rolled her eyes at his reply, hands folding in front of her chest. “why do you care, anyway?”

he shot him a look that was scaring her, and not of the violence he was capable of doing. “do i have to have a reason to care about you?”

“go back in there, rúben,” she tried to stand her ground, faking a rather tired expression when, in fact, she was masking her fear as he dared himself to step closer to her direction. “your drunk friends need your care more than i do.”

his eyes remained intense, burning her down as if she was merely a clothing to burn, as he stepped in front of her. his strong aura forced her to look up at him, and she tried to put some defiance into it in order to show she was in control. or trying to.

“but i don’t care about them,” he lowered his voice as he didn’t see the need to speak louder when his opponent was right under his nose. he knew he’d got her when she shifted her stance from the right leg to her left one. “i care about you.”

the statement obviously caught her off guard, as outmost surprised laced the pair of eyes that—luckily—resembled her mother more. rúben took the chance to close down the gap between their lips, as fast as lightning before she changed her mind, goading her to open up.

as soon as he heard her groaning in surrender, the inside of him ignited in delight. rúben pushed more than what she thought she could give, for he knew she could give more than she thought. his effort drove her to the edge of the sink behind her and she grunted at the crash against the porcelain, but bloody hell the sound effected rúben so much he felt blood rushing south and adrenaline took over his brain.

he’d lifted her up and placed her on the sink in a pace so swift she’d only managed to blink once. he’d slid his hands down her calf, up north towards the rim of her sundress, and she gasped at his ardent touch. felt so hot against the air conditioner of a room so big but only filled with the two of them.

rúben took the liberty to explore her mouth the moment the passage was opened. despite having his eyes closed, he savoured each and every stroke he made for the mental map of hers and he savoured the feeling of her hands sliding everywhere her hands could reach in desperation to hold on for herself while her body unconsciously gave away her control the moment rúben touched the edges of her panties.

she’d arched her back so flexibly rúben had to pull back a bit and admired the crescent shape she was bending herself to be. but not even the moon could compare with the beauty puny in his hands, with pink mauve lipstick smeared lightly and dishevelled hair against the mirror.

“god, you’re beautiful,” and it was all it took for her to sit up and grab his shirt to forcefully meet her lips halfway.

and for rúben, nothing was sexier than when a woman tried to put up a fight against him, even after well-knowing he’d win anyway. so he’d let her think she won, nuzzling his nose downwards, smelling her perfume, her body odour and her desperation all in one. he’d left kisses on his way down, the same moment his hands peeled down the flimsy strap of her sundress, and he swore he’d never touch finer things than the shape of her.

he’d palmed every surface his hands could reach, and took every choked breaths she emitted from his touch. but when he touched the centre of her underwear and felt the drip she was heavily producing, he’d become a goner. he couldn’t take it anymore.

without detaching his lips from her healthy skin, he pulled back an inch to give himself space to undo his pants. when she realised this, she’d drop her hands from his hair and shoulder to help him stash away the jeans. they laughed at this somehow, before they turned muted when rúben dias junior was out of the cage, standing tall and unwavering like him.

the anticipation killed him because jesus christ, with the desire running down her face, he wouldn’t be able to do much anymore. so he kissed her before she could have any second thoughts while his hands aligned himself to her. the first skin-to-skin contact left them breathless, in every literal sense of the word, and rúben could see what she was feeling before she could say anything. the way she closed her eyes in ecstasy as he slipped himself inside of her couldn’t lie.

“oh shit,” he’d read normally women was the only who went all goo at a drop to a man’s voice, but this time rúben could piss himself hearing her doing it. “that feels so good.”

eyes closed, slow pants coming out of that gaping mouth and fucking hell she looks amazingly sexy. and she feels like how she looked like, good god. rúben couldn’t stop his hands from grabbing the sides of her face, some hairs scrunched in them, accidentally closing some parts of her mouth but it didn’t stop her from letting out hot, broken breaths when rúben started moving out of her.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” the portugese giant nipped the bottom lips that looked so juicy from all the kisses exchanged between them, from him. “all for me, huh?”

“yes, you—oh!” she yelped like a siren when rúben slammed himself back to her. “do it right, rúben. do me right.”

rúben didn’t need further command to that, for sure.

she moaned so disgustingly dirty as he guided his cock back and forth, inside and out the now-slick fold, to the brink of heaven on earth. every time he pulled out, she’d moan in pleading, desperate to have all of him inside of her that anyone hearing her whimper would definitely take a pity on her.

“fuck! right there!” she screamed in pleasure as she held rúben’s wrist that was holding her in the face and she wasn’t lying about it. with the way she was rocking his girth and the pressure she’d put on her grip, she was close to the edge. “right there, right there!”

“come on, baby. let go for me.”

fuuuuuuck! ugh, fuck, fuck!

“oh yes, that’s right, baby,” he was now panting so hard the mirror above her was now covered in mist, but how could he stop himself when he looked down and there was the most amazing sight he’d set his eyes on. he ended where she began and she ended where he began. “that’s my girl.”

something inside of her clicked like the electric circuit and all the sudden it was black. but not a frightening blackout, more like black with stars on the back of her head. “fuck, rúben—”

rúben?

rúben dias?

the moment her brain registered the voice indeed belong to rúben dias, she went completely still that rúben had to break her moment. “hey, what’s wrong?”

she badly wished the earth could swallow her right now. the girth still inside of her be damned.

she pressed the crescent eyelids he’d come to love, for they looked as pretty as the moon outside, in a manner rúben didn’t want to know why. because it looked like she didn’t want to open her eyes to meet his. because it looked like regret.

“baby—”

“don’t, rúben.”

she cut him off with the sharpest blade available under her arsenal, her intonation, and at that moment it felt like those film moments when he froze after she stabbed her, digesting the pain and the shock that blanketed the moment.

“what did i do wrong?”

“this, rúben,” and she clenched her jaw, as if it pained her. as if it didn’t pain him to look at the expression she was sporting on her face now—here comes the old, cold you, rúben regretfully noted. “this is what’s wrong. what are you thinking?”

and there was the pair of eyes he loved, for they always speak the truth words lie about. but this time, rúben wished she didn’t open them, for they always speak the truth words lie about, and this time eyes and mouth were seething with anger.

“am i just another rebound for you?”

now that was a serious accusation. “where the hell does that come from?”

“you don’t like me, rúben,” if she wasn’t spitting stupid thoughts, rúben would certainly take the pleasure to fawn over her fiery stance right now. nothing pleased him more than putting people down to follow the order, and she certainly exuded rebellion from her eyes alone. “you never do.”

his large hand jumped to pull her face upwards to face him, rather powerfully to show who’s the boss and she just crossed the line. the movement caused his dick to slide back deeper into her, unexpectedly that she had to hold herself from moaning at the feeling—this feeling as a whole, more likely—but the distance he eliminated between them allowed him to inhale her suppressed whimper.

peering down to her in an arrogance manner she wanted to wipe from the faces of the earth, rúben raised his left eyebrow, challenging her back. “if i don’t like you, why did i just fuck your brains out?”

“as i said—”

“rebounds, you say?” and he didn’t intend to let her speak, as he instead pulled her closer to him by the waist. the sensation he could pull out of her mouth was the only thing he allowed between them, broken gasps and all. “if you know me as well as you think you are, then tell me,”

her chest was burning at the sensation he was whispering so close to her, inhaling what she exhaled, inhaling what he exhaled. on fire at the sensation of him pulling out slowly from her at the same time the hand on her waist travelled inside, towards the aching clit deprived of the friction from his groin.

“tell me, baby,” god, rúben wanted to close off the gaping mouth, as shut as the fluttering eyelids. “have you ever heard of me doing that? have you ever seen me, with your own eyes, doing that?”

“rúben—”

his hand was so close yet so far, caressing the insides of her thighs, and she hated the fact she needed him to touch her. now, or else she’d combust. “answer me.”

“no—”

“there you go,” and there was the satisfaction he’d recognised from the arch of her back and neck, as he hurled himself back to her soft spot, allowing him to pepper kisses along the underside of her chin, down along her throat, nailing her in her place further. “god, if only you knew…”

only when rúben pulled away from the space in the middle of her decolletages did she open her eyes once more, and she was rendered rather speechless at how rúben was looking at her. she was almost scared to ask but knew she needed the answer. “knew what?”

“it’s maddening,” the hand in her face moved to a different angle, now his forefinger was tracing the edges of her lips. the very one he destroyed with the harsh, heated kisses they exchanged. his artwork. “how much you consume my very being.”

before her heart could leap out of its place, rúben kissed her lips once more with so much fervour and everything else remained in his body. different to their earlier kisses full of lust, this one was lingering but unspeakable feeling and passion and lust and love.

love?

whatever they were feeling certainly wasn’t love, was it? they hate each other, for fuck’s sake.

“eyes on me, querida,” rúben’s voice snapped her thoughts away and she obeyed him, forgetting how easy it was to spare this particular man the hatred. before she saw that ex-girlfriend of his on the doorsteps, before she resorted to her self-defence mechanism.

“hello, there,” and he felt her melting away, as he recognised the whimpers she let out this time while he was rocking their boat in rhythm back and forth was nothing sort of what she gave 15 minutes ago. “there’s the eyes i love the most.”

love?

but before her mind could drift somewhere else, rúben finished off what he started. he drove her to the end fast and without mercy this time, leaving him helpless under his control of pace. his hand was no longer feathering the skin, they’d made themselves useful by dipping into the blossoming bud between rúben and her. the crude touch against her soft, plump crown was the striking contrast she needed to release herself for the second time, all frustration and thoughts were now focused on the finishing line. so focused that she didn’t feel herself shaking, trembling as rúben assaulted all of her senses—his kiss, his touch, his smell, his drive.

rúben sensed her going weaker from his all-out attack, not wanting to hold back himself either, not when he finally had her within his whim. he took her hands to curl them behind his neck and pulled up her knees so he could lift her up before turning their position around. he was now sitting on the lid of the toilet nearby while she sunk down on him and good fucking lord did she wrap him, all of his 9-inches, so tightly and so deeply like she was made for him.

and she felt it, too, for she sling her arms on his shoulder, hanging for her dear life. rúben couldn’t help but pull her in his grasp, closer than before—no air, no space between them—and the feeling of conjoining with her altogether almost undid him before her he had to stop himself from moving. rúben rested his head on her chest, wanting to calm himself down first as he placed open-mouthed kisses and nips on the outline of her nipples, but the action seemed to turn her on as he felt her clenching around him.

“fuck, don’t stop,” he involuntarily said, and she took it as an invitation to take the wheel from him and ride them out. “fuck, baby. fuck yes, i’m coming.”

“oh, yes, yes, yes!” she’d screamed as rúben manoeuvred her hips back and forth. combined that with the sinful components of his mouth against her breast, licking and sucking the sensitive bud like there was no tomorrow, it didn’t take long for her to reach her, by far, most satisfying high. “oh joder, rúben!”

she’d relish the feeling of soaring high in the sky all over again as she came down to earth. rúben was already holding her by the waist and a small part of her back so she didn’t crumble down trembling messily, small kisses were already scattered all over the hollow part on her shoulder blades, like he didn’t care if she just pulled out his hair so hard she was now afraid he’d catch up to her father’s balding.

“i love you,” but this time she didn’t go all ice on him. “i’m sorry i made you think the otherwise.”

and rúben, being the perfect gentleman, proved how sorry he was by sending her a bouquet of flower the next day. her, a florist, a bunch of imported fresh white tulips before she could wake up and go to the flower market early in the morning. how he did that when it wasn’t tulip season, she didn’t know, and the effort didn’t pass as overlooked by her eyes.

yes, the effort of scouting the rare tulips, but most of all the effort he’d go just to saywhat the flowers implied; i’m sorry. just like his words.

of course he was forgiven.

597 notes · View notes

sleepyverstappens · 6 months

Text

Race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase about bond with Max Verstappen: 'Never again with anyone else'

Although Gianpiero Lambiase is a nice person to be around and also an easy talker, he rarely or never gives interviews. But the down-to-earth Brit is also a man of his word and honors the agreement made at the beginning of this year. The delay makes it extra clear that he does not necessarily have to come to the fore and his extensive range of tasks during a racing weekend logically takes priority. Now that both championships have been won, Lambiase joins me. Who is behind that voice that can be heard so often during Grand Prix? The man who always sounds so calm. Except for that one time, after the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2021. So much so that many people still think that it is not Lambiase who is blaring on the radio, but the then reserve driver Alex Albon. Which is not the case.

Not a partygoer

The calm he so often radiates is one of his great qualities. “I think it is very important to be able to keep a driver calm in the heat of the moment,” said Lambiase. “That's just how I am, that's my character. What also plays a role is that – and I don't want to sound arrogant – I set the bar and my own expectations extremely high. Maybe too high. I want everything to go perfectly and I know full well that that's not possible. But it allows me to quickly rationalize and learn from disappointments. While maybe I don't celebrate the highlights as I could or should. Colleagues here will say that I am not a party goer, but that is just how I am.”

An example of this is the celebration, just hours after Verstappen won his third world title in Qatar. While he (Max) is once again lifted on the shoulders by his mechanics in the Red Bull garage, Lambiase walks with his hands in his pockets and casually walking to the start of the pit lane for the team's next photo opportunity. Another moment, last week in Mexico: when a fan has his picture taken with Lambiase, the local asks the engineer if everything is okay between him and Verstappen. It won't be the first and won't be the last time he hears that. Things sometimes get heated between the two, for example recently in Austin.

“But we never argue. Sometimes it takes more than one or two hours after a race to come together again. We both have adrenaline in our bodies, sometimes you need to have some time for yourself before you say things you will regret. And there are also moments when I think: I could have conveyed that better. Max will have that too. We may have different opinions, but in the evening or the next day it is always okay.”

Honesty underestimated Lambiase has been working at Red Bull since 2015 and has been active as a race engineer for fourteen years, so he knows better than anyone how good the mutual bond should be. “You know what is hugely underestimated? How important a part honesty plays in the relationship between a racing engineer and driver. Being yourself is crucial to working productively and efficiently. The moment you start thinking 'I don't know if I should say that, because he might get angry', you are on a lost cause."

So he is not afraid to push back from the pit wall. “I don't think Max would want it any other way either. He's not someone who wants to walk all over you. He is clear, to the point. That's how he was raised. His father Jos trained him wonderfully. I take over that task to a very small extent on the circuit, through my responsibilities as an engineer. That dynamic seems to work well. I'm not an expert in sports psychology at all, but you have to feel the character of a driver to achieve the optimal. That is something fundamental in my work: being able to trust each other blindly, but also having an eye for the emotional side. Especially nowadays, the mental aspect is increasingly important. It's not just about talent or the car, but how someone can deal with that talent and their emotions.”

In that respect, Verstappen seems to be doing well. And the Limburger has also been working with Lambiase to his full satisfaction since his first day at Red Bull's flagship. In fact, after winning his first world title, he even said that he would quit immediately if his race engineer gave up.

“But I can see through that. First of all, no one is irreplaceable. And secondly: there is no way that when I walk out that door tomorrow, Max's Formula 1 career will be over. It is nice that he says that and it shows how well we treat each other,” says GP, who now also reveals that there is an exclusive collaboration. “The day that Max and I no longer work together in this setting will be the day that I would like to take on a different challenge. I don't think it's fair to any other driver if we try to emulate what I've done with Max since May 2016. I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again. So I hope that we will continue in this way until 2028 ( Verstappen's current contract runs til 2028, ed.). Unless he or the team decides otherwise of course…”

Important sensor At the pit wall, Lambiase is overloaded with information and data, but he emphasizes how crucial the input from the driver himself is. A regular occurrence during a race, for example, is the Englishman asking his Dutch companion whether he would like a different adjustment of the front wing during the next pit stop.

“We indeed receive a lot of information about the balance of the car and the condition of the tires. But the most important sensor is Max himself. We can make all kinds of assumptions, but these are such small margins. The feedback from a driver is very important.”

Since last year, Lambiase has also been the Head of Race Engineering at Red Bull Racing. As a race engineer, he has previously worked with Vitantonio Liuzzi, Paul di Resta, Verstappen's current teammate Sergio Pérez and his predecessor Daniil Kvyat. But what makes Verstappen so good? Hardly anyone can estimate this better than Lambiase. “In my opinion, he has learned a lot from the difficult moments that occurred in 2017 and 2018. He has developed a racing style that not many drivers have. In recent years he has also proven to be very skilled in risk management. In 2021 he understood that he had to finish every race and could not afford DNFs. That year was so incredibly important for his growth. With that title in his pocket and a competitive car in recent years, he can estimate very well how much risk he has to take on Sunday. And also during the qualifying sessions he knows that he does not always have to show his balls or be the 105 percent version of Max Verstappen.”

"I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again."

Just as Lambiase says he learned a lot in his twenties during his early years in the world, with teams such as Jordan, Midland and Spyker. “I opened myself up to learning things from the smart people around me. Since then I have gained a lot of experience, also through all the technical and sporting changes in the regulations that have occurred. When Max was promoted to Red Bull in 2016, the days leading up to that first race in Barcelona were very hectic and tense. The expectations were sky-high and as a driver you have the feeling after such an intervention that you cannot disappoint the bosses. Of course, he already had a reputation and we quickly saw that he was an exceptional talent. I knew I was in it for the long haul with Max. That has also proven to be the case.”

Despite the many races and the associated travel, Lambiase is far from tired of his work. “This industry is so dynamic. The goalposts never stand still and we always strive for perfection. The excitement that comes with it is what challenges me. It may seem that way to people, but it is not easy to win even one Formula 1 race. Everything has to be right. You've seen this year in Singapore that when you do it wrong, you have a problem. The fact that Max has now won sixteen of the nineteen races is not just because the car is good. That is mainly because of him, and because we make the right decisions as a team.”

What does a race engineer do?

Four minutes. That's how long it takes Gianpiero Lambiase to briefly and concisely describe his many tasks as a race engineer. This goes much further than just talking to the driver during sessions on the asphalt. “Sometimes I wish that were the case,” he says, smiling. “As a race engineer at Red Bull, I am actually responsible for the entire operation of the car on the track. And I work together with all our specialists in the field of aerodynamics, simulations, the engine, you name it. Everything to try to have the best and efficient package on the track as possible.”

It doesn't stop there. “As is known, most of the development of the car takes place in the factory in England. But we as engineers at the circuit itself have the task of testing these new parts and thus drawing the right conclusions. Sometimes this is for the short term, to benefit from it during the race weekend. But sometimes also for the long term for the design of the car, for example for the following year.”

Of course, the car's setup often involves a lot of tinkering during the weekend itself. “Then it is important that the set-up and balance of the car are to Max's liking. That it doesn't have too much understeer or oversteer. There are hundreds of things we can change mechanically or aerodynamically, based on simulations, but also what we invented ourselves on the track during training. I also think I have an important voice in the strategy. As a race engineer you have a fairly large overview and you are in fact the person between the driver and the team. The driver's feeling is evident. In addition, our feedback to the factory must be good, for example what are the things that Max encounters. That in turn helps them to further develop the car.”

#gianpiero lambiase #max verstappen #since I haven't seen anyone translate the full thing yet

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

Text

Happy Fathers Day.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

author’s note - happy father’s day, y’all, i know that is late but this cute little idea popped into my head and i just had to write about it. 🫶

word count - 7.3k

in which, father’s day was something that harry never envisioned himself celebrating in past years, but now that he has his own little one, he couldn’t be more excited to celebrate . It’s been almost a three years since your angel baby made an appearance (25 months to be exact) and today is father’s day you’ll be spending the day with your gorgeous husband and your prince charley, as well as some friends, family and a whole lotta love.

trigger warnings - mentions of panic attacks <3

June 18th, 2023.

Acoronf to Wikipedia, is a holiday honouring one's father, or relevant father figure, as well as fatherhood, paternal bonds, and the influence of fathers in society.

It was a very special day but also a slightly bitter sweet one.

As much as Harry loved celebrating Father’s Day with his family, and his biological father, he couldn’t help but think of his step father Robin on this day.

He passed away in 2017.

You wake up with a smile, the realization dawning on you that it's Father's Day. Excitement dances in your eyes as you glance at your husband, still slumbering peacefully beside you. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist like it always was when you slept.

You carefully climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb the man beside you before heading across the hall to your son's room to check on him.

It’s what you did every morning.

Your bare feet hid the wooden floor as you made your way over to his room, your hand reaching out to push the door open even more than it already was.

That was when you made your way over to the crib and your eyes softened at his peaceful figure.

Charley Robin Styles.

Born May 10th, 2021 at 09:18 am.

He's still sound asleep, cuddled up in his little fortress of stuffed animals, lying in his front which was a habit he picked up from his father.

A surge of love fills your heart as you watch him, grateful for the gift of being parents to such a wonderful little boy. He was so carefree and hardly ever kicked off, but that was before he started going through his terrible twos.

You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head before you tiptoed out of the room, closing the door gently, and headed to the bathroom to prepare a special surprise for Your Harry.

With delicate care, you set up the bathroom, transforming it into a mini oasis. Soft towels, scented candles, and Harry's favourite shower gel adorn the space.

Everything is in place as you quietly slip back into the bedroom, ready to awaken Harry with your surprise.

You sit on your side of the bed, gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's a special day.”

Harry stirs, blinking his eyes open slightly before a sleepy smile graced his face. "Hmm? What's going on?"

"It's Father's Day, love," you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I've arranged a little surprise for you in the bathroom. Shall we start the day off with a relaxing shower?"

Although he had just woken up, you could see the small smirk that filtered into his face as the idea of a shared shower.

But there would be none of that today mister.

Harry's eyes widen with delight as he fully wakes up, realizing the treat in store for him. "You've outdone yourself, my love. Lead the way."

Hand in hand, you make your way to the bathroom, the anticipation building.

The flickering candlelight casts a warm glow as you step into the steam-filled shower. The soothing sound of running water envelops you, heightening the atmosphere of relaxation.

"Sit here," you gesture to a small stool inside the shower, covered with a plush towel.

Harry settles onto the stool, his eyes fixed on you. "You're spoiling me today."

He spoiled you every day so it was only fair.

"You deserve it," you reply, reaching for a loofah and squeezing a dollop of his favorite shower gel onto it. "Today, it's all about celebrating you as an incredible father."

You dip the loofah into the warm water, watching it foam up with fragrant bubbles.

Gently, you begin to wash Harry's back, your touch a tender caress. The lathered loofah glides smoothly over his tattooed skin, releasing a subtle aroma that fills the air.

Vanilla and Oak.

Harry closes his eyes, surrendering to the sensation. "This is heaven. Thank you, my love."

You smile, your heart swelling with love. "I'm just getting started. There's more to come."

With each stroke of the loofah, you pour your love and appreciation into the simple act of pampering.

You work your way down his back, his shoulders, and his arms, focusing on every inch of his tired muscles, washing away the fatigue of fatherhood.

As you rinse off the soap, your hands glide through his hair, massaging his scalp with practised tenderness just how you know he likes it. The water cascades down, washing away the suds and any lingering worries, leaving only a sense of serenity in its wake.

"I'm so lucky to have you as the father of our son," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion. "You bring so much joy and love into our lives."

Harry opens his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. "And I'm grateful every day to be your partner, to witness the incredible mother you are. Our son is blessed to have you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you lean in, your lips brushing against his. The shower becomes a sanctuary of love and appreciation, a sacred space where the bond betweenyou and Harry deepens, reinforced by the shared moments of tenderness and gratitude.

As the water continues to cascade over you both, you shift your attention to Harry's front, your hands working their magic against his butterfly tattoo with the gentle touch of the loofah. You navigate the curves of his chest, the contours of his abdomen, and down to his legs, ensuring every part of him is enveloped in the soothing embrace of the shower.

"Thank you for being such an incredible father," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "Our son is growing up with a role model who embodies love, kindness, and strength."

Harry's eyes glisten with emotion, his love for his family radiating from within. "Being a father is the greatest gift. I wouldn't trade it for anything. And I couldn't do it without your unwavering support and love."

You smile, the water mingling with tears of joy on your cheeks. "We're a team, Harry. Through the challenges and the joys, we're in this together."

Together, you rinse off the remaining suds, feeling the weight of the day and the world wash away with each droplet. As the shower comes to an end, you wrap soft, fluffy towels around each other, basking in the warmth and comfort of the moment.

After the shower, instead of getting changed you and Harry decided to stay wrapped in your pyjamas.

Well you wore one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of his boxers whilst he just wore his boxers and left his torso on show completely.

You cast a look over to the baby monitor that was resting on your husband's bedside table. “— shall we go wake up Char and head downstairs for some brekkie?”

Waking up your son was one of Harry’s favourite things to do, he loved to be the first Charley saw in the morning and the last thing he saw at night.

Together, you enter Charley's bedroom, greeted by the sight of him still sleeping peacefully in his crib. His tousled hair that matched his fathers and rosy cheeks make your heart swell with love. Harry approaches the crib, his voice filled with warmth and anticipation.

"Good morning, little champ," Harry whispers, leaning over the crib rail. "Wake up, Char. It's a special day today."

Charley stirs, blinking his sleepy eyes open, and a smile tugs at his lips as he recognizes his dad's voice. "Daddy?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Harry chuckles softly, reaching down to scoop Charley into his arms. "Yes, buddy, it's me," he replies, his voice brimming with affection.

Charley's face lights up with delight. "Happy Daddy Day!" he exclaims, his small arms wrapping around Harry's neck.

You join in the tender moment, a loving smile on your lips. "Happy Father's Day, Harry," you say, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Harry's eyes twinkle with gratitude as he gazes at both of you. "Thank you, my loves. This is already the best Father's Day ever."

With Charley nestled against Harry's chest, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. The delicious aroma of breakfast lingers in the air, inviting you to partake in the celebration. As you enter the kitchen, you see the table adorned with a feast fit for a king—fluffy pancakes, sizzling bacon, fresh fruits, and a steaming pot of coffee.

The morning sunlight spills into the kitchen, casting a warm glow over the countertops and filling the room with a gentle ambiance.

Charley's eyes widen with glee as he spots the colourful array of food.

"Breakfast!" he exclaims, clapping his hands in delight.

"That's right, buddy. A special Father's Day breakfast for all of us."

You settle Charley into his high chair, his little legs dangling beneath the tray. His excitement is contagious as he eagerly waits for his plate to be filled. Meanwhile, you and Harry take your seats, the anticipation of the meal bringing smiles to your faces.

You begin to fill Charley's plate with small portions of each delicious treat. Pancakes, cut into bite-sized pieces, are stacked high, adorned with a dollop of whipped cream and a drizzle of maple syrup. You carefully place a few slices of crispy bacon beside the pancakes, knowing it's his favourite. Ripe strawberries, juicy watermelon chunks, and a handful of blueberries complete Charley's colourful plate.

Charley's eyes light up as he takes in the feast before him.

“Yummy!" he exclaims, reaching out to grab a piece of pancake with his tiny fingers.

Harry leans over, his eyes brimming with pride. "Go ahead, buddy. Dig in. It's a special breakfast just for you and me."

You smile, watching the father-son duo bond over their shared excitement for the meal. Charley's small hand grabs a piece of pancake, and with a delighted giggle, he takes his first bite. A smudge of whipped cream adorns his cheek, a testament to his enjoyment.

While Char enthusiastically devours his breakfast, you and Harry exchange glances, savouring the simple joy of this moment. It's a celebration of Harry's role as a father and the love that surrounds your family.

"Thank you," Harry says, his voice filled with gratitude as he looks at you. "For this beautiful surprise, for being an amazing mother to our son, and for making every day feel like Father's Day."

Touched by his words, you reach across the table and clasp his hand. "I'm grateful for you, Harry. You bring so much love and joy into our lives. Watching you with Charley fills my heart with happiness."

Charley, oblivious to the depth of the conversation, claps his hands and exclaims, "Daddy!"

Harry chuckles, his eyes glistening with emotion. "That's right, buddy. I'm your daddy, and I love you more than words can express."

The breakfast continues, laughter and conversation filling the room. You share stories and jokes, creating memories that will be treasured for years to come. Charley's infectious laughter rings out, reminding you of the incredible gift of family.

As the meal draws to a close, you rise from the table, carrying Charley in your arms. With a satisfied grin, he leans in to give his dad a messy, syrup-sticky kiss on the cheek.

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" Charley exclaims, his voice filled with love.

Harry's eyes shine with pure joy as he gazes at his son. "Thank you, Charley. Being your daddy is the greatest privilege in the world."

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After getting changed for the barbecue, all three of you were getting everything ready for when your guests would be arriving.

You were wearing a white knee length cotton dress, with white ruffles on the sleeves, paired with a pair of white converse seeing as you didn’t want to walk around your garden all day in heels.

Harry was wearing a grey tank top with a pair of multi coloured shorts to add a bit of colour to his outfit, his hair was pushed back by a bandana and some white Adidas running trainers.

Charley looked really cute. He was wearing some white and blue pin striped overalls with some light blue crocs on his feet and a hat sat backwards atop of his head to protect his head from getting burned.

As you stood in the kitchen, you stared at the open fridge, head tilted to the side, as you studied all of the food you had brought for your guests.

A million and one thoughts were running through your head.

Did you have enough chicken wings?

What about burgers? There were going to be twelve people at the barbecue but what if you ran out?

And salad? You hadn’t checked if anyone was allergic to anything, what if someone had an allergic reaction?

As the pressure of preparing for the Father's Day barbecue intensifies, the weight on your shoulders becomes almost unbearable.

The constant stream of tasks, the expectations you've placed on yourself, and the fear of falling short begin to consume your thoughts. The familiar signs of a panic attack start to manifest—racing heart, shallow breathing, and a tightening in your chest.

Why had you agreed to organise this bbq?

In the midst of the chaos, you don’t even realise that Harry has walked into the kitchen, his wedding ring being the only ring in his finger for the day and his nails freshly painted by you the night before.

Harry senses your distress and quickly springs into action.

"Hey, love," he says, his voice laced with concern as he approaches you. "I can see you're feeling overwhelmed. Let's take a moment to regroup."

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath. "Harry, I don't know if I can do this," you manage to say between gasps. "I wanted everything to be perfect, but it's too much. I'm failing."

Everything was becoming hard to focus on.

Harry's face softens with empathy, and he gently guides you away from the hustle and bustle of the preparations.

"Alright, darling," he reassures you, "let's step away from this for a moment. We'll find a quiet space where you can catch your breath."

With Charley by his side, Harry leads you to a serene corner of the house, away from the chaotic whirlwind that had engulfed you. He gently guides Charley into the adjacent room, making sure he's occupied and safe.

Harry didn’t ever want Charley to see either of you having an anxiety attack, it was something he never wanted his son to grow up to see.

He always made sure that your angel baby was in another room either watching tv or occupied by his toys so as to not see either of his parents having a meltdown.

That’s what made him an even better father.

As the door closes, a sense of isolation settles upon you, exacerbating your panic. Harry, however, remains by your side, his calming presence providing a lifeline.

He guides you to sit down on the sofa in the lounge room, he sits down beside you, his warm hand resting on your back.

"Focus on your breathing," he says, his voice steady and soothing. "Close your eyes, take slow breaths with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale."

You follow his instructions, attempting to mimic his rhythmic breathing pattern. The sound of Harry's voice becomes a guiding melody, anchoring you amidst the storm of your racing thoughts.

But the panic refuses to subside. The weight on your chest intensifies, and you clench your fists, feeling the urge to escape from the suffocating grip of anxiety.

You felt as though you were going to faint.

Harry senses your struggle and adjusts his approach. He reaches out, gently taking your trembling hands in his own.

“It's okay to feel overwhelmed," he whispers, his voice filled with empathy. "You're not failing, love. You're doing the best you can, and that's more than enough."

Tears stream down your face as the weight of his words sinks in.

“But what if it's not enough?" you sob, your voice choked with fear. "What if I disappoint everyone?"

You had spent too much time organising this for it all to fall to shit.

Harry's grip tightens, his voice firm but reassuring. "Listen to me," he says, his eyes locking with yours.

"You are enough, and you are loved. Our family and friends are going to be here to celebrate with us, not to judge how flawlessly everything is prepared. They're here because they cherish the time spent together."

His words resonate, breaking through the cloud of panic. Slowly, your breathing begins to regulate, and the tightness in your chest eases. You open your eyes, meeting Harry's gaze filled with unwavering support.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude and a bit raspy due to the crying your throat just endured. "I needed you to remind me of that. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Harry smiles, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "You don't have to do it alone, love," he says softly. "We're a team, and we'll navigate this together. Remember, the true essence of today is celebrating fatherhood and the love we share as a family."

Oh, what would you do without him?

After you and Harry continued to sit next to each other on the lounge sofa, it wasn’t long before Charley was calling out for his father to come and play.

Harry seemed hesitant about leaving you alone but you were quick to usher him towards where your son was, telling him that you needed to get cleaned up before the guests arrived.

Now that the panic had subsided and left you feeling vulnerable, you knew that it was time to take care of yourself. Give yourself a little bit of TLC.

You stumbled your way to the bathroom, seeking solace within its familiar walls. The cold tiles beneath your feet offered a grounding sensation, a small anchor in the midst of chaos.

With trembling hands, you turned on the faucet, letting the water flow until it reached the perfect temperature—neither too hot nor too cold. Cupping your hands, you allowed the clear stream to cascade over your fingers, a gentle touch against your skin.

As the water pooled in your palms, you brought it to your face, splashing it with gentle force. Each drop that landed on your skin carried with it a whisper of relief, a momentary respite from the turmoil within. You repeated the ritual, each splash washing away a fraction of the panic that had overwhelmed you.

With each touch of the water, you felt a sense of renewal. It was as if the pure liquid carried not only physical cleansing but also a soothing balm for your troubled mind. The weight of the panic began to lift, replaced by a glimmer of calmness that danced within your soul.

After the final splash, you reached for a soft towel, its fibres caressing your sensitive skin. With delicate motions, you patted your face, the material absorbing the remaining droplets and leaving a sense of comfort in its wake. As you dried yourself, you focused on the rhythmic motion, finding solace in the simple act of self-care.

Once your face was cleansed and dry, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at you was a survivor—a testament to your strength and resilience. The panic attack may have shaken you, but it did not define you. You were stronger than the storm that tried to break you.

Someone ringing at your ring doorbell snapped you out of your slight daze and had you turning your head towards the bathroom door.

Your guests had finally arrived.

Taking a small breath, you walked out of the bathroom, out of your bedroom and down the stairs and made your way towards the front door.

Harry had no idea who was coming today, he thought it was his family but boy was he wrong.

You invited his closest friends, Louis, Zayn, Liam, and Niall, along with their kids, to join in the festivities.

It was going to be a good day.

On your way to the front door you fixed yourself in the floor length mirror located by the door and pushed some of your hair out of your face, before pressing your hand against the handle and opening it up to see all their smiling faces.

It was adorable that they had all arrived together.

Opening the door, you were met with the smiling faces of Louis, holding hands with his seven-year-old son, Freddie, and Zayn, with his two-year-old daughter, Khai, perched on his hip. Liam trailed close behind, accompanied by his six-year-old son, Bear, while Niall stood beside his girlfriend, Amelia, wearing a grin from ear to ear.

"Surprise!" Niall exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice. "Happy Father's Day, Harry!

You looked over your shoulder at your husband who was with Charley. “— H, look who it is!”

Harry, who had been playing with Charley in the living room, turned his head at the sound of your voice. He entered the hallway, his eyes widening with astonishment as he took in the unexpected sight of his friends and their kids.

"Hey, mate! Happy Father's Day!" Louis greeted Harry, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

Harry's face lit up, his surprise transforming into pure joy. "You guys! I had no idea you were coming! This is amazing!"

Freddie, eager to join in the excitement, tugged at Harry's shirt. "Uncle Harry, we're here for the party! Are you gonna play superheroes with us?"

Harry chuckled, lifting Charley onto his hip. "Absolutely, Freddie! We'll save the day together!"

Zayn grinned, handing Khai over to Liam so he could give Harry a warm hug. "Mate, we wouldn't miss this for the world. Happy Father's Day! And trust me, our kids are gonna keep us on our toes today."

Liam, with Bear at his side, playfully nudged Harry. "You're in for some serious dad competition, my friend. Bear here is already strategizing for the water balloon fight."

Niall chimed in, wrapping his arm around Amelia's waist. "Happy Father's Day, Harry! We thought we'd come and celebrate with the best dad we know. Plus, we brought some goodies!"

Harry's eyes gleamed with gratitude as he took in the warm wishes from his friends. "Thank you all so much. This means the world to me. And Charley here is in for a treat with all these little friends to play with!"

Today was going to be a good day.

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The backyard was filled with the joyful sounds of laughter and conversation. You took a moment to step away from the festivities and went to the outdoor bar to mix a refreshing drink for yourself. As you poured the liquid into a glass, you felt a tug on your shirt.

Looking down, you saw Freddie, the son of Louis, standing beside you, his eyes filled with concern. "Hey there, Freddie," you greeted him with a smile. "What's up?"

Freddie fidgeted slightly, then spoke in a soft voice. "Charley is crying. He wants you."

Your heart melted at Freddie's words. You put down the drink and followed him, eager to tend to Charley's needs. As you made your way through the crowd, you reached your son, who was sitting on a picnic blanket with tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

Kneeling down, you enveloped Charley in a comforting hug. "Hey, sweetheart. What's the matter?"

Charley hiccupped, sniffling. "Mommy, I want milk."

You smiled, understanding his request. "Alright, Charley. Let's go somewhere quiet, just you and me."

Scooping Charley into your arms, you made your way upstairs, finding a peaceful space where you could nurse him.

You settled into the comfortable rocking chair, feeling a sense of calm and connection wash over you. As you adjusted your position, Charley looked up at you, his tiny hand reaching for your chest.

"Mommy, milk?" Charley asked, his voice filled with innocence and longing.

You smiled, recognizing the familiar request. "Of course, my love. We can have some quiet time together."

When it came to breastfeeding your little Charley, you and Harry agreed that you wouldn’t stop breastfeeding until he decided to stop himself. You wanted Charley to wean himself, you didn’t want to force him to stop when he ultimately didn’t want to.

Charley snuggled closer, his little fingers tracing patterns on your arm. As you guided him to your breast, the room filled with a peaceful silence, save for the soft sounds of breathing and the rhythmic swaying of the chair.

Charley latched on, and you could feel his gentle sucking, a reminder of the incredible bond between mother and child. The world around you seemed to fade away as you focused on this precious moment shared between the two of you.

Charley's eyes met yours, his gaze filled with warmth and comfort. "Mommy, I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You kissed the top of his head, the words melting your heart. "I love you too, my sweet Charley. More than words can express."

The room filled with a serene ambiance as you continued to breastfeed, the soft rhythm of his swallowing bringing a sense of peace and contentment. Time seemed to stand still as you embraced the simplicity and beauty of this intimate connection.

You stayed rubbing soft circles onto his back as he continued to suck on your nipple, Beverly thing was peaceful until a foul smell made its way into your nose.

Chuckling softly, you whispered to Charley, "Oh, little one, it seems we have one more task to tackle."

You tapped his diaper clad bum through the material of his overalls and watched as he unlatched from your breast, a clear indication that he was finished eating and giggled, head thrown back slightly.

Charley giggled, his laughter filling the room. "Di-di!" he replied, pointing to his bottom.

You nodded, reaching for the wipes and fresh diaper. "That's right, Charley. Let's get you all cleaned up."

As you began to remove Charley's soiled diaper, he kicked his little legs in excitement. "Tickle, Mommy!" he squealed.

Gently tickling his tummy, you joined in his infectious laughter. "Tickle, tickle! You're such a funny little one, Charley."

As you wiped away the mess with care, Charley's curiosity got the better of him. "What's that, Mommy?" he asked, pointing to the diaper rash cream.

"This is some special cream, Charley," you explained, showing him the tube. "It helps to keep your skin nice and protected."

Charley nodded with wide eyes, clearly intrigued. "Skin nice!" he repeated, mimicking your words.

With the old diaper disposed of and Charley's bottom all cleaned up, you unfolded a fresh diaper and expertly slipped it under him. Charley couldn't resist reaching for the tabs, eager to help. "Me do it!" he exclaimed proudly.

You smiled, allowing him to try and fasten the diaper himself. "Good job, Charley! You're becoming such a big boy."

Charley beamed with pride, his little hands fumbling with the tabs. "Big boy!" he repeated, pleased with his accomplishment.

Once the diaper was securely fastened, you scooped Charley into your arms and peppered his cheeks with kisses. "All done, my little love," you said, cuddling him close. "You're clean and fresh again."

Once he was all clean, the two of you made your way back down stairs and made your way into the garden, a smile appearing on your face as you saw all your friends and family having their own conversations in the garden.

Charley was set upon the floor and within seconds he was racing towards his Aunt Gemma, Nana Anne and Grandpa Des, who must have arrived when the two of you were up stairs.

Making your way over to where Amelia was sitting, you plonked yourself down in one of the chairs at the outdoor dining table and offered her a smile.

The two of you shared a comfortable patio set, sipping on refreshing drinks and immersed in conversation.

Amelia smiled warmly, her eyes filled with genuine interest. "So, how's everything going with your family? I heard you and Harry were considering moving to a new place?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. "Yes, we've been thinking about finding a new home, one that fits our growing family. Charley is getting bigger by the day, and we want to create a space where he can flourish."

Amelia leaned in, her voice filled with curiosity. "That sounds exciting! Have you found any potential houses yet?"

You looked around the lush garden, your eyes scanning the playful scene before you. Harry was engaged in a lively game of football with Charley, Louis, Freddie, Zayn, Khai, Liam, Bear, and Niall. Laughter and shouts filled the air, mingling with the clashing of soccer balls.

"Well, not yet," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. "But with all these wonderful friends and family around, it's hard not to feel at home. We've created a little community right here."

Amelia's gaze followed yours, and she chuckled. "You're absolutely right. It's heartwarming to see everyone coming together like this. Speaking of which, how has your relationship with Harry been lately?"

You took a moment to watch Harry, his face beaming with joy as he played with Charley and the rest of the group. "Harry has been an amazing partner and father," you said, your voice filled with adoration. "He's always there for us, and seeing him with Charley, it fills my heart with so much love and gratitude."

Amelia nodded, a soft smile on her face. "That's beautiful. Niall is the same way with me. I couldn't ask for a better partner. We've been through so much together, and his love and support mean the world to me."

As your conversation continued, you noticed Anne, Harry's mother, walking towards the garden. She carried a tray of freshly baked cookies, her face radiant with happiness. Behind her trailed Gemma, Harry's sister, and Desmond, his father.

Anne's eyes sparkled as she approached, her voice filled with warmth. "Hello, dears! I couldn't resist bringing some treats for everyone. It's lovely to see you all enjoying the day."

Gemma and Desmond joined the gathering, their smiles mirroring Anne's joy. The garden became alive with laughter and conversations, a true celebration of family and friendship.

You turned back to Amelia, both of you taking in the beautiful scene. "We're truly blessed, aren't we?" you mused, your voice filled with gratitude. "To have such incredible people in our lives, to witness these precious moments... It's a reminder of how fortunate we are."

Amelia nodded, her eyes shining with appreciation. "Absolutely. These moments, the love we share, are the foundation that makes life meaningful. I'm so grateful for the connection we all have."

With Anne and Gemma bidding their goodbyes and returning inside, the atmosphere shifted slightly, creating a more intimate setting between you and Amelia. The sound of children's laughter and the occasional thud of the football being kicked provided a comforting backdrop to your conversation.

Amelia took a sip of her drink before turning to you with a mischievous grin. "So, have you and Harry been considering any exciting plans for the future? Any big adventures or dreams you're pursuing?"

You chuckled, a spark of excitement igniting within you. "Funny you should ask! Harry and I have actually been discussing the idea of building our own little dream house. We've been searching for the perfect plot of land and envisioning what our ideal home would look like."

That was true, you and Harry had lived in your current London house for just over seven years together now, two years as a family and the other month, you had both shared a conversation about wanting to potentially expand the family and move house some time in the future.

You remember when you told Harry that you wanted to expand your family and the look on his face was priceless.

As the moon cast a soft glow through the bedroom window, you lay in bed next to your husband, Harry, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. There was something on your mind, something you had been contemplating for a while, and tonight felt like the right time to share it.

It was one of those quiet nights when deep conversations seemed to find their way to the surface, and you knew it was the perfect moment to share the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind.

Turning towards Harry, you mustered up the courage to speak your heart. "Harry, I've been thinking a lot lately, and I want to talk to you about something important."

His eyes met yours, his face reflecting a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. "What is it, love? You know you can tell me anything."

Taking a deep breath, you gazed into his eyes, finding solace in his unwavering support. "I want us to have another baby, Harry. I know we have busy schedules, with your touring and album projects, but I can't help but feel the longing to expand our family."

A brief moment of surprise flickered across Harry's face, quickly followed by a cascade of emotions—joy, contemplation, and a hint of concern. His voice was filled with tenderness as he reached for your hand. "Love, that's a beautiful desire, and I understand how important it is to you. Our family means everything to me, and the thought of giving Charley a sibling fills my heart with warmth."

You couldn't help but notice the genuine reflection in his eyes, the way he processed the idea with care. It meant the world to you that he took your feelings to heart.

"But, love," he continued, a touch of uncertainty lacing his words, "I can't deny the demands that come with my career. The touring, the studio time—it can be a whirlwind at times. I want to be there for you and our family as much as I can, but I worry about the balance between my work and family life."

You squeezed his hand, offering him reassurance and understanding. "Harry, I appreciate your honesty, and I understand that your career is a big part of who you are. The fact that you're willing to have this conversation and consider the possibility speaks volumes about your dedication as a husband and a father."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze filled with gratitude. "Thank you, love. It means a lot to me that you see my perspective. I want to be present for our family, to create a nurturing environment, and I'll do my best to strike that balance between my passion and our family life."

His words resonated deep within your heart, affirming the strength of your partnership. Together, you were ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.

You leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Harry, I know it won't always be easy, but I believe in us. We've overcome obstacles before, and with open communication, love, and support, we'll navigate this journey together. We'll find a way to make it work."

You had been looking online for houses around the current area you were in as you didn’t want to live too far from home, but there had been a few lots that you had seen where you could build on.

Created The Styles Dream House.

Amelia's eyes widened with intrigue. "That sounds amazing! Tell me more. What kind of house are you envisioning?"

You leaned in, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "We want a cosy yet spacious home with lots of natural light and a touch of rustic charm. A place where we can create beautiful memories with our family and friends. We've even started looking into eco-friendly features and a garden where we can grow our own fruits and vegetables."

Amelia's excitement mirrored your own. "That sounds like a dream come true! It's wonderful that you and Harry are envisioning a space that reflects your values and allows you to live harmoniously with nature. I can already imagine the warm gatherings and laughter-filled evenings that will take place there."

You nodded, a sense of anticipation bubbling within you. "Exactly! We want it to be a haven for our loved ones—a place where they can feel welcome and cherished. We've been gathering inspiration, creating mood boards, and sharing ideas. It's such an exciting time."

Amelia leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's incredible how our dreams evolve as we go through different stages of life. I remember when Niall and I used to talk about travelling the world, exploring new cultures and experiences. Now, our dreams are centred around creating a stable and nurturing home for our little one."

You nodded in understanding, recognizing the ebb and flow of dreams and priorities. "Life has a way of shifting our focus, doesn't it? But it's a beautiful evolution. Our dreams adapt and align with the chapters we're living, bringing us joy and fulfilment in unexpected ways."

It wasn’t long before the barbecue was ready.

As the delicious aroma of grilled food wafted through the air, you all gathered around the picnic table, ready to enjoy the Father's Day feast. Freddie, Louis' enthusiastic son, proudly held his little notebook and went around, taking everyone's food orders.

Freddie approached Anne with a big smile. "What would you like, Grandma Anne?" he asked, pen poised over the notebook.

Anne chuckled affectionately. "Hmm, I'll have a juicy burger with all the fixings, please. And make it extra special, just like my son here," she said, playfully nudging Harry.

Harry laughed and nodded. "You got it, Mum. One special burger coming right up!"

Freddie moved on to Gemma, who raised an eyebrow teasingly. "What's on the menu for me, young man?"

Freddie grinned mischievously. "Well, Auntie Gemma, I think you need something spicy to match your fiery personality. How about some tangy chicken skewers?"

Gemma pretended to fan herself dramatically. "Oh, Freddie, you know me so well! Chicken skewers it is."

Next, Freddie turned his attention to the rest of the guests. "Alright, Liam, what can I get for you and Bear?"

Liam ruffled Bear's hair affectionately. "We'll have some mouthwatering ribs, Freddie. And don't forget the barbecue sauce!"

Freddie scribbled down the order and moved on to Zayn. "Hey, Uncle Zayn, what's your pick?"

Zayn smiled at his daughter, Khai, who was playing with her toys nearby. "Khai and I will share some tasty grilled vegetables, Freddie. We're keeping it healthy."

Freddie nodded approvingly and wrote down the order. He then approached Niall and Amelia, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Niall, Amelia, what can I put down for you?"

Niall grinned. "I'll take a juicy steak, Freddie, cooked medium-rare, please. And Amelia, what would you like?"

Amelia pondered for a moment. "I'll have a grilled chicken salad, please. Light and refreshing."

Freddie eagerly noted down the orders and made his way back to Harry, who was tending to the grill. "Dad, I've got all the orders ready. You're doing an awesome job, by the way!"

Harry beamed with pride. "Thanks, buddy. You've been a great little helper today."

As the food sizzled on the grill, you joined Charley at the table, helping him cut up his hot dog into bite-sized pieces. Charley's eyes widened with anticipation as he watched the food being prepared.

"Mummy, is it ready yet?" he asked eagerly.

You smiled and nodded. "Almost, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, and then you can have your yummy dinner."

Finally, Harry brought the platter of grilled delights to the table, and everyone's eyes lit up with delight. The air was filled with appreciative murmurs and exclamations of hunger.

Anne took a bite of her burger and savored the flavors. "Harry, darling, you've truly outdone yourself. This burger is absolutely divine."

Harry blushed modestly. "Thanks, Mum. I'm glad you like it."

As everyone dug into their meals, the table came alive with lively conversations. Gemma shared a funny anecdote from Harry's childhood, causing peals of laughter to fill the air.

"Remember that time Harry got stuck in the treehouse?" Gemma exclaimed, pointing at Harry. "We had to call Dad to come and rescue him!"

Desmond chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah,those were the days. Harry always had a knack for finding adventure, even in the simplest of places."

Louis raised his burger, playfully imitating a toast. "To Harry, the ultimate treehouse explorer!"

Everyone joined in, raising their glasses and laughing heartily. Harry blushed but couldn't hide his wide grin.

Amelia turned to Niall, nudging him playfully. "Do you remember the time you and Harry tried to build a secret hideout in the backyard? It ended up looking like a pile of sticks!"

Niall chuckled, a fond twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, how could I forget? We were convinced it was the best hideout ever. But let's just say our architectural skills were lacking."

The table erupted in laughter, the shared memories creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie. Conversations flowed freely, intertwining stories from the past with plans for the future.

Between bites, Liam leaned over to Zayn, teasing him good-naturedly. "Hey, Zayn, remember when we used to prank each other relentlessly? Those were some epic battles!"

Zayn smirked, reminiscing. "Oh, Liam, the pranks we pulled on tour were legendary. The fake spiders, the disappearing clothes—I still have scars from some of your tricks!"

Liam chuckled, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Well, mate, it was all in good fun. Besides, those pranks brought us closer together."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the gathering, Harry's dad, Desmond, raised his glass, his voice filled with nostalgia. "To all the fathers here, both present and in our hearts. May we continue to cherish and nurture the beautiful bonds we share with our children."

The clinking of glasses resonated through the air, and everyone raised their voices in agreement, expressing their gratitude for the fathers in their lives.

As the conversation continued to flow, Charley tugged at your sleeve, his eyes sparkling. "Mummy, look! I cut my food all by myself!"

You beamed with pride and pulled him into a gentle hug. "Well done, Charley! You're such a big boy now."

Charley giggled and took another bite, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The table became a symphony of laughter, stories, and the clinking of cutlery, each voice adding to the melody of love and togetherness.

The evening wore on, and as the last rays of sunlight faded, a sense of contentment settled over the gathering. Plates were cleared, and desserts were served—a sweet finale to a memorable Father's Day celebration.

As you sat there, surrounded by loved ones, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn't help but reflect on the joy that filled your heart. Father's Day had become a testament to the strength of the bonds forged through love and shared experiences.

In that moment, amidst the conversations and laughter, you realized that it wasn't just the food that nourished the soul—it was the presence of family and friends, the stories and memories woven into every bite, that made the celebration truly special.

And as the night sky sparkled with stars, you glanced at Harry, his smile radiant, knowing that this Father's Day would forever be etched in your hearts as a day of love, laughter, and cherished moments with those who mattered most.

You turned towards your husband, whose grey tank top was now removed from his body due to the body heat and was sitting next to you with a blissed smile etched into his facial features.

You linked your hands together, the feeling of his wedding ring cooling down your skin ever so slightly. “— Happy Father’s Day, H.”

“Thank you m’love,”he turned towards you, leaning forward ever so slightly and nudged his nose against yours, forgetting everyone else that was around you. It was as if it was just the two of you. “— you made me a father, and for that, I’ll forever be grateful.”

Happy Fathers Day Everyone.

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romaine2424 · 20 days

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For the Love of WIPs (Drarry style)

There's a lot of things I miss about LJ, but right up there was the weekly posting of the H/D Prophet run by @sassy-cissa and groovelover at the conclusion. It began posting in 2005 and It stopped posting in 2021. I know it was a ton of work for the mods to run it, but it truly kept Drarry fandom informed of all the one-shot fics, art released that week, and chapter updates for current Drarry WIPs, recs, etc... Also listed were the fests and what state they were in. Take a look at the links I posted above and see all the goodness. It was very centralized. *sigh happy times*

What made me think of this was I love reading Drarry WIPs but keep finding recent chapter fics that I missed while being posted and only found them completed and others that I'm currently reading but found by chance.

So, I thought I'd share the WIPs I'm keeping track of and those that have been completed recently that I've read.

Notes: Most WIPs (chapter fics) are long fics (over 50K and up to 1M). There are readers that see some lengths of completed fics and wince. That is one reason why chapters are often released weekly or whenever, so you have digestible amounts (5-15K). Sometimes as an author I feel in a Catch 22, readers don't have time to read long fics, but then won't read a WIP until completed. LOL

Below the cut are WIPs that I've read and that have been recently completed. I'll post ongoing WIPs that I'm reading tomorrow! I'm not listing the Warning and Tags for these fics as I'll leave that up for you to decide on what to read or not. But, there are a few here that do have strong warnings in the tags and/or Author Notes. One final note: I'm listing WIPs (chapter fics) that were posted over a time period, not completed chapter fics that were listed on one date as a whole. OMG this is a long post!

Recently completed Drarry WIPs

Passing Stranger (53K) by @lettersbyelise This just completed yesterday! I have 2 chapters left to read. :) Summary: Five years after the war, Harry, listless and depressed, stumbles upon Draco Malfoy playing the violin in an underground bar in Muggle London. The catch? Draco lost his memories five years ago. Ignoring his friends’ advice, Harry befriends an unwitting Draco, overlooking the fact that their mutual attraction might not survive if Draco’s memories return. Comment: Haven't quite finished but I love, love, the Draco in this fic. You could feel that this is Draco stripped of all the heavy responsibilities he grew up with including having a bigoted father. The tension is palpable with Harry being attracted to this Draco but feeling that Draco needs to be Draco Malfoy to move forward. *ugh*. 2. The Boy from the Piano Shop (90.5K) by @soliblomst completed 2/25/24. Summary: After going blind in a reckless attempt to avenge Ginny's death, Harry battles with severe depression. One day, he stumbles upon a quaint piano restoration shop in the heart of London and meets the owner, a kindly old man, and his introverted young apprentice, whose voice sounds strangely familiar. As Harry and Draco slowly reconnect through private piano lessons, the small workshop becomes Harry's refuge, offering him a glimmer of hope in a world without eyes. Set five years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Comment: I binged this fic bad!!! There is so much to love in this fic but one of the standouts is the OC Richard. You will love him, too. The gradual build up of Drarry is so well done. The dealing with Harry's depression is so raw and real. No cutting of corners. The ending was one of the best I've read in celebrating what is to come for Harry and Draco. And Draco, in the final scene will make you cry *happy tears*. 3. The Star Splitter (219K) by @oflights completed 3/22/24. Summary: On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival. Comment: I think I followed this one from the start as I do everything @oflights! OMG the action, the tenseness, the magical lore, the worldbuilding, and the sweetness of Draco raising young Harry will have you banging that "next chapter" button. The Drarry in this happens slowly and has its ups and downs but so so worth the wait. The bond is strong and at the end and you will recognize and cheer for this Harry who says Fuck it all, I ain't letting this go.

4. Spotlight (All Eyes on Us) (58K) by @pixiedunhoff completed 3/15/24. This is the 5th and final installment of the Dark Arts to Dance Floor Series (317K) which began posting in July '23. Spotlight Summary: The spotlight can scorch.

“Has the wizarding world ever seen a couple quite like Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter? Though the pair remain frustratingly private and out of the spotlight, hardly ever seen in public together, our readers understandably demand to know more.

‘They’re happy together,’ Minister of Magic Hermione Granger exclusively tells the Prophet, before quickly ducking into a meeting for Squib Rights. ‘They’re so very happy.’”

- Daily Prophet, 2 February 2018 Comment: Pixie says in the notes, you may only need to read the 4th installment to completely get this fic, but hell, I say read them all. Pixie is newer to Drarry writing (longtime reader). I love the casualness and realness of the characters and how they interact. In Spotlight they so capture the feel of being backstage to a 'music rock star' (in the Muggle world) and on the rise in the magical one. As you're reading this fic, it might come across as being a lighter AU type fic, but don't be fooled there is much depth and layers upon layers to both Harry and Draco. Pixie just eases you into it. There were points that I just had to stop reading for a moment and digest exactly what was going on. Pixie will be on my Current WIP list, too! 5. Skybound (61K) by @xanthippe74 Summary: No matter how much Harry Potter wanted to believe he’d left danger behind when the war ended, it found him again anyway. All he had to do was step out his own front door on a Tuesday morning. A Drarry re-imagining of Howl’s Moving Castle.

Comment: I haven't finished this one, yet, but wanted to list it here. It's 6 chapters and I'm only 2 chapters in, but holy hell what world building and magical lore (and one very nasty curse). I'm not familiar with the original source, but that's okay. I'm very happy being carried along in one floating house! I'm a big fan of @xanthippe74 and am fully confident I'll love this as much as the author's other stories. Okay, I'll be back tomorrow with a list of currently posting Drarry WIPs, including two stinging hot A/B/Os, but in very different ways.

Enjoy!

Rom

#romaine2424 recs #drarry fic rec #drarry wips #so much drarry fic awesomeness #drarry wips completed

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thequiver · 2 years

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Who is Connor Hawke? - A Reading Guide

Connor Hawke is the son of Oliver Queen and Sandra "Moonday" Hawke. He is best known for his role as the Green Arrow, taking on the mantle upon his father's death and continuing as the Green Arrow after his resurrection. Connor was raised by his mother, and struggled in school due to being bullied for being mixed race (his mother is Black and Korean and his father is white). At around age thirteen Connor was able to talk his mother into letting him move to a Buddhist Ashram that his father had once stayed at, and there Connor entered the care of Master Jansen, learned martial arts and archery, and became a Buddhist monk. It was at the Ashram that Connor decided to continue the Green Arrow legacy. While serving as the Green Arrow, Connor teamed up with the Green Lantern Kyle Rayner and the Flash Wally West, Robin Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, and the Justice League.

While Connor is most known for his connection to the Arrow family, as this was what was focused on most heavily in Green Arrow Vol. 3- it is important to remember Connor has strong connections outside of the family as highlighted in Green Arrow Vol. 2! These characters include: Sandra "Moonday" Hawke, Nathan Hawke (Connor's "Gran"), Mastern Jansen, Eddie Fyers, Kyle Rayner, Wally West (and his wife Linda), Tim Drake, and Cassandra Cain!

As of June 2022, Connor has been confirmed as asexual, which solidifies his ace coding from both Green Arrow Vol. 2 and 3!

Reading list with RCO links under the cut!

Only three comics will be listed after the N52 because they are the only three that give us anything resembling an in character Connor Hawke- I will not now nor ever include Robin (2021) on this list.

The following is a chronological list of Connor's appearances:

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #0

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #91-105

Robin Vol. 2 #25

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #106-109

Showcase '96 #5

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #76

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #110

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #77

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #111-124

JLA #5, 8-12

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #125-129

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #96

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #130

Flash Vol. 2 #135

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #131-134

Detective Comics #723

Robin Vol. 2 #55

Nightwing Vol. 2 #23

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #135-136

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #104

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #137

Green Arrow Vol. 2 #1,000,000

Robin Vol. 2 #78-79

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #1, 8-11, 13-15, 21

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #162

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #24-25

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #164

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #27-32, 34-50, 52, 56-59, 66-68

Connor Hawke: Dragon's Blood #1-6

Green Arrow Vol. 3 #73-75

Green Arrow/Black Canary #1-7, 13-15

DC Festival of Heroes: The Asian Superhero Celebration

Green Arrow 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular

DC: Pride (2022)

The following issues have an unclear place in Connor's chronology and are presented here in chronological order by publication date:

JLA: Paradise Lost #2-3

Adventure Comics 80-Page Giant #1/2

JLA/Titans #2-3

Green Lantern Vol. 3 #110, 117

JLA #38, 40

Batgirl #30-32

Birds of Prey #43-46

Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day #3

Identity Crisis #1, 6

Flash Vol. 2 #216

Richard Dragon #8-12

#Connor Hawke #Green Arrow #reading lists #reading guides #reading recs #arrowfam #this is a MUCH more in depth version of my old Connor list #I looked back at it the other day and cried internally so I'm fixing it now #use this one #it's in order and everything #I don't necessarily *like* all these comics but I did include them for completeness sake

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 4 months

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by Bassam Tawil

In the West Bank city of Jenin, Jamal Hawil, a senior Fatah official, led a demonstration to denounce the killing of al-Arouri, whom he labeled as a "martyr."

Hawil also praised Hamas's October 7 massacre, in which the terrorist group more than 1,200 Israelis were murdered, more than 5,000 wounded, and more than 240 kidnapped and taken as hostages to the Gaza Strip.

He emphasized that al-Arouri had inspired the upsurge in anti-Israel terrorism activities in the West Bank:

"Saleh al-Arouri called on the Palestinian youths [in the West Bank] to resist with stones, Molotov cocktails, pistols, and explosive devices. Our armed factions will teach [Israel] a painful lesson."

It should come as no surprise that Abbas and other PA leaders have long been glorifying terrorists by calling them "martyrs" and "heroes." In 2021, Abbas called to console the families of two Palestinian terrorists who were killed while attacking Israelis. Abbas told the father of one of the terrorists:

"Allah will increase your reward over our martyr [Israa Khzaimiah], the Palestinian people's martyrs. Allah will let her dwell in Paradise, and certainly her place is in Paradise because she is a martyr of Palestine and Jerusalem. I always bow to our male and female heroes."

Since the brutal Hamas massacres of Israelis on October 7, the atrocities have been celebrated by at least 11 Palestinian schools, including eight run by the PA, according to the Institute for Monitoring Peace and Cultural Tolerance in School Education (IMPACT-se).

In one example, the Ya'abad Boys Secondary School (near Jenin) told parents that it would be closed on October 18 "out of respect for the pure blood of our martyrs. God punish the Jews and those who support them."

Similarly, the Adnan Zaki al-Safarini Boys High School in Tulkarm staged a demonstration on October 12 praising Hamas's massacre, with a video showing a male student's speech, entitled: "A day that will live forever in the history of the Arab Palestinian struggle... the day of al-Aqsa Flood [the name Hamas uses for its October 7 atrocities[."

#hamas #gaza #palestinian authority #october 7 #october 7 massacre #jenin

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septembriseur · 6 months

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“After two years as a refugee, my former student M. has received his U.S. resettlement paperwork and is ready to start his new life in America!

I taught M. when I worked at the American University of Afghanistan (AUAF) in Kabul. The eldest son of a large, loving, but poor family, he spent his earliest years in a refugee camp in Pakistan. Like many Afghan boys, he grew up working to help support his family. But thanks to his obvious intelligence and his family's commitment to education, he was able to attend school and pursue his bachelor's degree.

When Afghanistan fell to the Taliban in August 2021, M.'s family faced danger and persecution as a result of his father's work with the American military. They were eligible for U.S. Special Immigrant Visas, but the process was slow and almost nonfunctional. AUAF was able to evacuate M. to a third country where he could continue his education and wait for his refugee resettlement to the USA to be processed. While finishing his BA as a refugee, he was also supporting his family in Kabul and searching for ways to help them: pursuing their SIV application through the vast maze of American bureaucracy and working with my sister Heather, who filed to sponsor them for Humanitarian Parole.

Over the past two years, M. has become like a member of my family. He's helped my nephew with a school presentation; my niece baked him a cake to celebrate his university graduation. I've talked to his baby niece on the phone. He's helped me learn to read and write Dari Persian, putting up with my endless mistakes and questions. We text each other animal pictures and political frustrations.

Though M.'s family have now received their Humanitarian Parole and SIV petition approvals, they are still waiting for State Department evacuation from Kabul for their visa interview. But for M., good news has finally come: he has received his resettlement paperwork and is arriving in America the day before Thanksgiving!

He could use some help: when he was evacuated from Afghanistan, he was only allowed to take one bag of stuff with him. In America, he'll need more: weather-appropriate clothes, a phone, bus fare, and enough money to continue supporting his family in Kabul while he looks for a job.

This is an opportunity to help give a solid start to a gifted young man who has overcome incredible odds to make it this far— and to help repay an Afghan family who risked it all for America and American values.

Whatever you can give will help M. get started on his American journey!”

#boosting #Afghanistan #fundraiser

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formulafic · 3 months

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key: ♥ smut; ✽ fluff; ☂ hurt/comfort; ✿domestic note: minors should take caution and read summaries and all tags before proceeding. support: feel free to support your favorite of these in any way you want/can. whether that means reblogging, liking, messaging me privately, or just reading anonymously. my hope is that you just enjoy reading them ☺️

in progress

norris4:

high infidelity: a series ☞april 29th♥☂ | lando x fem!reader | 3k | rating: m

You tried to cut this off so many times, but he managed to call you back every time. You tried to ignore his calls and texts so many times, but found yourself nearly depending on them at this point. But hardest of all, you tried to pretend that your loveless relationship gave you a fraction of what Lando seemed to give so easily, so readily. (Literally 3k of pining!lando [protected sex, overstimulation, spanking, f-receiving oral, praise kink, pet name kink?, aftercare, explicit language, fluff, cheating, post-sex haze, failed relationship, random villainous IndyCar boyfriend]).

☞getaway car♥ | lando x fem!reader | 2k | rating: m

He had been right and you hated to admit it. (Sequel to april 29th)

oneshots ☞sochi21♥☂ | lando x fem!reader | 3k | rating: m

Lando gambled and lost. You were there to pick up the pieces.

☞things to celebrate♥ | lando x fem!reader | 4k | rating: m

Lando had been in Formula 1 for five complete years. He had raced in 104 Grand Prix over nearly 2,000 days. 633 points, 1 pole position, and 6 fastest laps. All of that had given him 13 podiums, yet none of them standing on the top step. Ever since Russia 2021, he hadn’t seen a hint of the glittering lights that winning his first race would blind him with. Lando was still aggressively determined to finally get his first Formula 1 win in 2024.

☞karma is the guy on the screen♥☂ | lando x fem!reader | 5k | rating: m

The pictures come out on an otherwise normal Tuesday afternoon, as you’re having lunch with friends. It’s a typical sunny day in Monaco, a cooler breeze telling of the approaching fall, and luxury car after luxury car pass by the outdoor table the three of you are sitting at. Nothing is out of the ordinary, nothing to make anyone pause. Nothing except your boyfriend of four years, the father of the baby you currently carry, kissing another woman in several pictures taken in, presumably, several locations. or, Lando revives you when Checo destroys you.

leclerc;16:

oneshots ☞we can be world champions♥ | charles x fem!reader | 3k | rating: m

Charles wins his first Driver's Championship.

sainz;55

oneshots ☞mi corazón, mi amor, mi vida ♥✽ | carlos x fem!reader | 4k | rating: m

Carlos knew you inside and out, intimately and wholly. He knew when you were anxious, even if you tried to hide it. He knew when you were truly happy and content. He knew when you were stressed, even thousands of miles away. He knew when you needed him and what exactly you needed. or, you're stressing yourself to tears over exams and Carlos comes home.

#formula 1 fic #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #sochi21 and things to celebrate will be posted first #with the high infidelity series following that #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fanfic

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peppertaemint · 9 months

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The other day, an Anon for @reflections-in-a-critical-eye asked about SHINee 2Min lore, and Anon was referred here for further info, lol. Well, I'm not sure there is lore per se, but I can give a mini rear-view mirror take on 2Min.

Spoiler: here's 2023 Minho staring at Taemin.

The early years give a beautiful vibe of dongsaeng/hyung puppy love. They're just absolutely adorable. Minho is Taemin's closest hyung in age, and Minho has mentioned that until Taemin showed up, he was the baby.

Shippers call this moment c. 2010 the "Koala Hug." 2Min were celebrating Minho doing an extreme vaulting challenge. Yes, you read that right.

However, that vibe eventually gets tinged by SM playing with Taemin's gender presentation.

When Taemin is given extensions and suddenly bombarded with men telling him he looks like a woman etc, Minho is one of the people to confidently say that Taemin is "pretty to begin with" so there is nothing to be done about it. I always read that as him almost being prideful over it; Minho definitely likes the idea of Taemin being prettier than girl groups or his work beating out that of girl groups (read into that how you want, lol), but I think he liked Taemin exactly how he was from the get go, which is cry-inducing really.

Here's Taemin wearing Minho's father's scarf c. 2012. Okay, I guess that's pretty "lore" -ish.

If you were to go back and look at shipper blogs and live journals from 2013/2014, you would see some 2Min fans getting upset that their ship has sunk. There was this idea that when Taemin became an adult, he put away childish things (and non cis-het things) and that included Minho (lol). Many perceived Taemin had switched to a more manly look/concept, and/or that he really wanted to shed his gender neutral or ambiguous traits/looks.

Dream Girl was uh, really something.

It's true that in 2013, we see a more boyish Taemin versus Sherlock Taemin. He's also older and filling out and indeed, becoming a young adult. Interestingly, he does We Got Married (let's not go there) and goes on to start his solo career in 2014.

But I think what this "lore," or shipper narrative, reveals is how easy it was for shippers to slot 2Min into a sailing ship because they perceived Taemin to be more feminine to Minho's masculine, thus upholding heteronormative ideas of romance even in a supposedly gay "couple" - a common trait of same-sex shipping that although nuanced by certain cultural factors is still often a staple of same-sex shipping and related fanworks.

Fast-forwarding to mid-2018, we have a clingy if uneven 2Min. By the end of 2019, we have a somewhat wistful 2Min who like to attend each other's events and make grand gestures in front of the crowd.

In late 2020, we have Minho driving for hours on the day of his discharge, in uniform, to head directly to Taemin's taping for Idea at one of the TV networks in Korea. The rest of SHINee are there, and they treat us to an IG live of their reunion. 2Min are cute and a little cuddly - it's clear they missed one another. 🥹

2018 2Min have great hair colors.

What were 2021 2Min like? Friendly, feisty, and in the end, a little romantic/bromantic (pick your poison). 2Min fighting or annoying one another happened, but by the time Taemin enlisted, it was clear Minho was an emotional rock for him to some degree. And when Taemin was unwell, it was Minho who spoke to us first and then began updating us at the 14th anniversary party, with Key and Onew also speaking.

2021 2Min was also this level crazy

So, we reach the present. What are 2Min's vibes these days?

A little hands-on. Rather comfortable. Even Steven. Affectionate.

They're getting along so famously everyone is noticing.

And they're just very very cute.

There's so much more I could say, but I hope this is a good welcome aboard the good ship 2Min. The ship has strong winds and calm waters after 15+ years at sea.😌

#2Min #shinee #taeminho #2Min shinee #taemin #disclaimer: shipping is for fun let's be cool #minho #choi minho #lee taemin #kpop shipping

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 99: In the Company of Angels

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: major character death ❧ Word Count: 3.5k

❧ In This Chapter: The Commonwealth is saved in one last effort to defeat the herd. When the panic dies down, there is happiness, but not everyone will live to see another day.

❧ A/N: Second-to-last chapter! So this one is pretty short, but I wanted to write the time jump in the next chapter (aka the last chapter ahhh). I tried to add in some stuff to tie in Reader's father and some of the characters she was closest to. You might also notice that I purposefully made Reader kind of uncomfortable with the celebration (because I was uncomfortable with the celebration lmao). I just felt like it was kind of random and unrealistic (yes I am aware that there are zombies walking around, but within the context of the show, it's nice to have the way people behave be a little realistic). Idk the whole dinner scene didn't sit right with me, so I tried to convey that a little bit lol.

Date: April 18, 2021

Time: Midnight

Our arrival to the Commonwealth was fraught with some… trouble. A herd had somehow gotten through the walls. Governor Milton’s orders were to direct the swarm to the lower wards, where the poor live. She’d also caught onto Mercer’s betrayal, imprisoning him. By the time we arrived, the walkers were flooding into the streets. We took the sewers through to Union Station, where a shootout ensued. Myself and many others were shot, and at this point my recollection fails me, but I’m told that at some point, Princess led a group to release Mercer from his prison. From there, Mercer and his guards snuck us into a safehouse in the Estates, where Pamela and the other elites were hoarding the last of the medicine. We lost Luke and Jules to the walkers. Lydia and Aaron had lost track of Jerry and Elijah in the herd, but they joined with us again by some miracle. Rosita found her daughter, Coco. She is safe, and so is Eugene, Yumiko, and Maxine.

The estates have the luxury of walls to keep the walkers out, but it kept the Commonwealth citizens out, too. Pamela refused to open the gates, signing a death sentence for the unlucky ones who were locked outside. They were screaming, crying, and begging to be let inside, spared from the dead.

Father Gabriel Stokes took a stand, ignoring the guns pointed at him as he made his way to the gate, preparing to shoot the lock and let the people in to save their lives from the impending herd. Governor Milton commanded her guards to shoot him down, but a resounding voice stopped them. It was Alexandria’s own Daryl Dixon, bravely approaching the governor herself, no weapons drawn. His words were simple, but louder than any gunshot, and stronger, too.

“Stop,” he said. “We all deserve better than this. You built this place to be like the old world, that was the problem. We’ve got one enemy. We’re not the walking dead.”

You paused for a moment, thinking of what to write next. It was most important that you wrote down exactly what Daryl had said, you figured. You supposed the rest now was living history, and you’d have to write more later, when you could collect your thoughts.

Daryl himself made his way over to you, looking just as dashing and brave as he did just a few hours ago now. As you sat up in your bed, he eyed you suspiciously. Hadn’t he just told you to rest? And yet there you were, etching hundreds of words into your journal, frantically writing down every thought that had come to you the past twenty-four hours. Everything that happened here tonight was important, and so much more was about to be underway.

When you felt his gaze on you, you lifted your head from your journal. The letters were starting to make you dizzy anyway. “Yes?” you asked.

A few men dressed head to toe in Commonwealth armor pushed past Daryl, carrying various boxes of explosives. It made you nervous, to say the least, but it was all part of the plan. Mercer’s plan.

Daryl crossed his arms with a huff, coming forward to sit himself down beside your bed. He’d left a chair there for himself, marked rather obviously by his vest. “Thought you were gonna be restin’.”

“I am resting.”

“No, you’re writing.”

“Well, I can write and rest at the same time, can’t I?”

He narrowed his eyes at your left arm, still wrapped tight in its sling. “How you feel?”

“My arm hurts,” you sighed. “But I’ll be fine.”

Out of curiosity, Daryl leaned back in his chair, his neck craning to get a look at what you were writing. “I see my name,” he said, focusing on your familiar cursive writing. “What’re ya sayin’ about me?”

“Oh,” you sighed dramatically, “just about how… noble, and brave, and heroic my husband is.”

You swore his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Stop.”

“Why? It’s true. Besides, Robin and Westley will need to know how great their father is. It’s important, you know. And maybe someday they’ll have children of their own, and they’ll tell them about their… grandpa.”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, no way. I’m not gonna be a grandpa.”

“Maybe you will,” you said with a shrug, and a mischievous grin. Sometimes, you got far too much enjoyment out of teasing him, but he was just so serious, and it was so fun to make that serious demeanor crumble, as it only really could for you. “It’s important to think about the future, about the consequences of all this.”

“All’s I know is what’s goin’ on right now. And right now it’s time to go, so get your journal.”

Indeed, the plan was ready. Aaron and some of the others had already diverted the herd, clearing a path for a truck to leave the estates and bring back the fuel. The plan was to light up the sewers, soak them in gasoline and lead the flame to the center of the estates, where the walkers would be corralled.

You could hear it now, the music just starting. “Cult of Personality” by Living Colour. Fitting, you supposed. The lyrics didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that the music was loud enough to bring the walkers to the estates. When those mansions were going to blow up, you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

Everyone was loaded onto a truck, packed like a can of sardines and taken to the rendezvous point—one of the houses on the other side of town. By the time everyone had cleared the estates, the gates were left open, purposefully. The walkers poured in, death and decay taking over this once prosperous neighborhood.

Everyone was far away when the music stopped, time suspended for what seemed like years, but it was only a few moments. Finally, a huge burst of flames, followed by waves upon waves of explosions dotting the estates, each triggering another until the whole district was bubbling with bright orange.

Beneath the ground, the sewers were opening up, splitting the dirt to suck in hundreds of burning walkers, like Hell was opening up and taking back its creatures. When the first bursts of the explosions died down, the charred remains of the estates were filled with burning trees and the last of the walkers that could still walk as their rotten flesh burnt off their bones.

From what you could see, the herd was eradicated. Still, you weren’t sure it was cause for celebration. The estates were destroyed, along with dozens of homes that could’ve housed the poor and the sick. Whatever food and resources those buildings had were reduced to smithereens before your very eyes. Not only that, but who knows how many people had died during the swarm?

You didn’t share that sentiment with most of the others, though.

Yumiko invited everyone from Alexandria to her house in the wee hours of the morning. For your part, you fell asleep on her couch, not knowing when you awoke that a grand feast was waiting for you in the afternoon.

It was Daryl’s hand that gently rocked your shoulder. “Come get somethin’ to eat,” he said, and you swore you were in a dream.

The dining room was immaculate, with a meal of epic proportions splayed over the table, with more to spare on the kitchen counters, where so many familiar faces gathered around to serve themselves. You blinked hard, shaking your head as you looked towards your husband. “Am I awake?”

“Yeah,” he said, and you knew it must’ve been real—you could feel his hand pressed upon your lower back, then his lips grazing your cheek. “I’ll make ya a plate. Sit down.”

Despite its clear reality, you couldn’t escape the strange warm glow all around you. It felt like you were dead. Well, in Heaven, maybe. But you weren’t, you knew you weren’t. You were alive, but something felt too good to be true. Something was off.

Across the dining room table, you felt Rosita’s eyes on you. She leaned closer, pointing her finger at your sling. “You all right?”

“Mhm.” Tentatively, you took a sip of red wine. It was the first you’d tasted of it in ages. Nine months pregnant, plus several more in which wine was the least important thing you could consume, so you didn’t. It felt strange to drink it now, but why not? Everything else felt so strange, anyway. “Are you?”

She rocked uncomfortably in her chair, but flashed a smile regardless. “Of course.”

Something was wrong.

“Rosita—”

Maggie’s hand startled you as she touched your shoulder. Her green eyes widened as she let out a laugh. Were you the only one not happy?

As she sat beside you, she eagerly unfolded her napkin, then helped herself to a serving of mashed potatoes. How did anyone have the energy to prepare this meal? Nothing seemed right.

“You were asleep for so long,” remarked Maggie. “I was worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Feels like I didn’t.” You were caught between reality and a dream.

Daryl’s heavy presence loomed over you. He placed your plate in front of you—it was overflowing with ham and gravy and biscuits and salad and grapes… He’d given you far too much food for one person to eat. Still, you knew you would eat all of it with how hungry you were.

“Thank you.” He shocked you for a moment, bending over to kiss the corner of your mouth. You looked at him suspiciously. “Am I in the Twilight Zone?”

“Eat your food,” he scoffed playfully. “‘Fore it gets cold.”

With a belly full of food, soon it became clear to you that there was no harm in celebrating what merriment there was for the time being. Pamela was imprisoned, the walkers were slain, the people were free.

It was a beautiful dinner, the warm glow of the candles spread all over the table illuminating so many smiling faces. The world had changed so much since last night—darkness had given into light, and with the new day came a new era. It was on everyone’s breath. The cleansing fire had come again, as it had come so many times before.

It was nothing new, you’d seen it before, so many, many times.

Atlanta, the quarry, the CDC, the farm, the prison, the Kingdom, the Hilltop… As worlds ended, new ones were born. Even those worlds hadn’t really ever ended, you figured. It wasn’t even really a matter of things ending or beginning when it came down to it, it was a matter of continuing on, keeping those memories alive for as long as you could. That was the trick.

That was the celebration. A new beginning, once again. As many times as you’d felt it, you’d never get tired of that feeling. Hope, that’s exactly what it was. Hope for the future, for the world to become whole again.

The mission wasn’t over, you all knew that. The world was still broken, crumbling all around you, but there were pockets of wholeness, moments wherein everything became so perfect that it was hard to believe it was real. But it was real, and they were real. Your family was real.

And yet, you couldn’t shake this feeling, as though the vibrant images that projected all around you were just figments of your imagination, like any second now you’d wake up and it would all have been some strange, long dream.

Maybe you’d awaken, having never met a man named Daryl, having never had his children. That was the worst thing you could imagine, so you willed it away from your mind as quickly as it came.

Instead, you dozed off for a while, thinking of all the voices you couldn’t hear amidst the celebrations. Strangely, you found yourself picturing a world in which your father could see all this. You hadn’t thought of him in so long, but a sudden wave of memory lost to time came flooding in.

The memory wasn’t one that had ever existed, at least, not in this lifetime. It was an image of a dinner much like this, but with everyone you’d come to know and love.

Rick, Michonne, Glenn, Beverly, Dale, Tara, Andrea, Tyreese, Beth… All the ones you lost were surrounded by some glowing aura, like they were angels. They were so bright and beautiful that you nearly squinted just to make our their features.

Your father, though, you saw particularly clearly. In your vision, he’d sit right across the table from Daryl. He’d know the happiness you had found with him, the true and innocent love he gave you. You knew above all else that he would’ve loved Daryl, too. He would’ve seen him as another son, and a great man.

In his lap would sit baby Westley, watching in fascination as his grandfather played peek-a-boo with the child, much to his wonder.

Robin would sit near him, too, laughing at one of Dale’s silly jokes. He’d impart some important lesson to her, and she’d listen closely, eager to learn from the wise man.

Aaron would pour a glass of wine for Eric, his one true love. You were sure your father would look on proudly, happy to know that Aaron was living the life he wanted with the man he loved.

Perhaps Rick would raise a toast, it seemed like the kind of thing he would’ve done. “To family,” he might say. “To hope, and to the future.”

Glenn and Maggie would laugh together like they used to. They’d have a hard time letting go of each other’s hands. You recalled they used to hold on until the last possible second.

Sophia and Carl would be so much bigger now. You’d hardly be able to recognize Sophia, but what a beautiful young woman she would’ve become. You’d reminisce with them about the times at the quarry, and how little they seemed in such a big, scary world.

As much as you hated to invite him to your perfect little tableau, you turned to look at Daryl, and you saw an inkling of Merle in that smirk he gave you. It had Daryl’s gentleness, but Merle was in him, too. You liked to think that, if he had lived to see this day, he’d have changed. Maybe he’d see the ignorance of his ways, and maybe, by some miracle, he’d be a good uncle to your children. Well, thank goodness it was just in your imagination.

“Hon?” Daryl’s raspy whisper made those faces disappear, but their essence still lingered. His warm hand laid tentatively over yours, until he gently squeezed it to get your attention. “You all right?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile. He felt some relief wash over him. For a second there, he worried you had already gotten tipsy from the wine. You were always a lightweight, but then again, you were terribly amusing when you were drunk. He would know. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

His lips eased into a small smile. As his cheeks lifted, you admired his face, how beautifully sculpted it had been. Every detail, from the bags under his eyes to the slight slope of his nose, was your favorite—you couldn’t decide on just one. And his skin was so clear, so soft. The wine must’ve been getting to him a little, as you could see a glowing rosiness in his warm cheeks.

Though his black eye had only darkened, you still swooped his hair back, allowing you to see every perfect inch of him.

The fact that you were admiring him through hazy bedroom eyes did not go unnoticed.

“What’re ya thinkin’ about?”

Naughty things, mister Dixon.

“How happy I am,” you replied, opting for an innocent conversation instead.

His hand squeezed yours a little tighter. In this lighting, with the gold-tinted hue of the candles playing off your features, he couldn’t take his eyes off you if his life depended on it, and thank goodness it didn’t.

“Are you happy, Daryl?”

For the last eleven years, he’d been able to say yes. Why would that change today?

“Yeah. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, since you came along.”

He wished he had the more complex words to describe the way you made him feel, but simple platitudes spoken by many lovers before and many lovers after would have to do.

“I’d like it to stay like this forever,” you said. “Just frozen in time. I don’t ever want to forget this feeling.”

“You don’t have to… We keep it alive, you and me. Long as we live, and after.”

“And the people,” you added. “The people we lost, they’re still alive, right? We keep the fire burning for them.”

“That’s right, angel.”

Despite the euphoria you felt come over you, there was still that inkling of looming devastation floating around the room. It didn’t show itself immediately, but gradually, as the heady afternoon blended into the clarifying evening, your suspicions of impending tragedy proved to be correct.

Rosita shared the news, that horrible news you’d been dreading since she looked at you that way. You didn’t process it at first, it just sort of… sat there. She’d hid it so well all this time. The bite on her back was completely covered by her shirt and her hair, but nothing could hide the fact that the fever was coming, worsening and becoming stronger with each passing moment. Time was running out for her, and it felt so wrong.

In the bedroom where she laid, each and every one of you was given the unspoken opportunity to say goodbye. It was a beautiful room, perfect for Rosita. The walls were a pale blush color, with lovely pink roses in a vase by the door. Roses for Rosita, you thought, smiling through your tears as you sat upon the chair by her bed.

She reached for your hand, and you took it with a gentle shake. Beside her was Coco, napping upon a bed of pillows. She was older than Wes, of course, but you couldn’t help but see her and wonder if one day the two of them would be friends. You hoped so.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes struggling to keep open. She looked paler than usual, and you could tell by the redness under her eyes that the illness was taking its effect. It felt so cruel, so unfair. She had so much life left in her, and for it to be cut short so suddenly was nothing short of a tragedy.

“Hi.” Even a single syllable word was not immune to your tears. Your voice cracked and faltered as you wiped your nose with your free hand. What were you supposed to say? There was so much to say to her. She was your friend. “I—I, um…” You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. “Rosita, nothing’s going to be the same without you.”

She smiled. “You’re going to be fine. You’re brave.”

You laughed at that. It seemed like just yesterday Rosita had called you weak. Now, it was just a humorous memory. “You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known.”

It was evident in the way it happened. She’d been bit saving Coco, her child. That, indeed, was the greatest act of bravery. “Will you… watch over Coco for me?”

You were choked up at this point, hardly able to speak without bursting. “I will,” you said with a fervent nod. “Of course. Always.”

“And, if you can,” she faltered a little, her eyes becoming hazy. You could tell she was on her way out, her voice having trouble coming through. “Tell Robin… about how badass we were, you and me.”

Your eyes widened a little. Of course, Rosita was “badass,” but you weren’t so sure that you were. “I sure will,” you snorted. “I’ll tell her all those stories.”

“I wish I could see her grow up…. Her and Coco, and Wes, too… All of them.”

“Hey,” you said, leaning forward to hug her. She was burning hot, so hot she was cold. “I’ll be your eyes and ears, okay? Everything I see, you’re gonna see it, too.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was so hard to say goodbye.

That night, you closed your eyes to sleep, held tight by the same pair of strong arms that were made for you. They kept you safe, sheltered, but your mind still wandered.

You found yourself at that dinner table again, surrounded by all those you loved, and those you lost. Rosita was shining bright now. She held her baby in her arms. She looked like the Virgin Mary.

Her soothing face didn’t haunt you, it lulled you to a peaceful sleep. The death she’d been given was beautiful. You could only hope that someday, you’d die with your greatest loves beside you, and you’d see them again in some crazy woman’s vision.

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

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