#acting as if they knew who louis is

[llycaons]

claudia’s actress was fucking excellent. emmy

#will probably be thinking about that fireside scene for the rest of my life #this episode was...wow. WOW #everything that happened to her #and then returning #standing up to lestat #louis being dead to his family #the break that definitely would have happened years ago if they were human #breakup* #my GOD I knew lestat has issues but this was horrifying #though I don't think a breakup could have happened under any less violent circumstances since lestat is so...obsessed? terrified of being #left? possessive? something #he just wants to love consumingly that it causes him to act in incredibly destructive and horrifying ways #he WANTS love* #interesting that louis doesn't consider himself a victim but might that just be because he doesn't want to be seen as one who was victimized #because it definitely looks like claudia came back to encourage her father to leave lestat and when louis agreed lestat became physically #abusive #like saying 'I held my temper and went against my nature and never harmed you' and then trying to kill him like fuck FUCK that's terrifying #and she pointed out his verbally abusive and controlling behavior long before this. she saw it #iwtv lb

[bill-the-dog-for-the-check]

I want to go back to how things were.

I want to go back to when I believed that the progressives were on the right side of history, fighting against oppression in all its forms, and had critical thinking, honest compassion, and understanding in a way that the right--inundated with racist conspiracy theories and absurd lies--did not.

In many ways, I'm a perfect demographic fit in the pro-Palestine circles. I'm bisexual. I'm a young university student who's been progressive for as long as he knew what progressivism was, and I never experienced genuine economic insecurity or wondered if I'd eat that night. In another timeline, maybe I'd be there marching and shouting their horrible slogans. But there's one, teeny little thing that ruins it, which makes me fall through the cracks and renders me politically homeless, outcast by the progressive left and the MAGA right.

I'm a Jew.

And I'm trying so, so hard to hold compassion for the suffering of minorities who have not extended us that same compassion. I'm trying to maintain my progressivist urge to go out and help minorities in solidarity, but it's so hard when they make it clear that they hate us and want our state dead and gone. I supported BLM, but Al Sharpton, Leonard Jeffries, Alice Walker, James Baldwin, Louis Farrakhan, Malcom X, Jesse Jackson and many others either were or are wildly antisemitic, especially Sharpton and Walker, and so are the BLM movement's leaders, who openly sneered at Jews for being shocked by them by announcing, "I guess their activism was just transactional. How (((Zionist))) of them!"

And the queer community forced me out of their ranks for merely questioning whether the war in Gaza is a genocide, for pushing back against them saying that Hamas is fighting oppression. And spread antisemitic lies about me, claims of harassment and supporting genocide to my friends because I dared to question them. And they've chosen to side with those who would throw both of us off roofs for being queer. Cast out by the outcasts.

Like, what do I do? Our only allies are Hindus, Iranians, Kurds, Republicans, and Christian Zionists (respect to all of these groups for that... even you Republicans. This is one of our only points of agreement). That's literally it. No loud show of from indigenous nations supporting what is effectively the most successful anticolonial land back movement in human history. No push from "antiracist progressives" against rising antisemitism and genocidal terrorism from a reactionary fundamentalist group against a historically discriminated group.

And they aren't even just leaning back and being silent--many members of these groups are being actively antisemitic--especially the progressive left, which has morphed into the most antisemitic mainstream political movement since the Nazis. Instead, we're 'Zionazis' and genocidal colonizers who aren't even oppressed anyway, that's just evil Jewish Zionist lies designed to stoke sympathy for their unrelentingly evil nature, which we can't even help. The notion that Jews are intrinsically predisposed to evil acts and deception--never heard that one before.

So now, when I look at pictures of Pride Parades, a celebration of an identity of which I am a part and would have previously killed to attend--I wonder... would I be allowed to hold up a rainbow flag with a Magen David on it? If I asked any of their views on the state of Israel, what will they say? What about on Zionists who support its existence? Would all parts of my identity be respected, valued, and celebrated? Or would I be forced to leave the Star of David flag at home, pretend I don't notice their antisemitic views, and pass the litmus test of disavowing Israel before being accepted?

I feel suspicious and wary of the very community which I am 'supposed' to belong in. I feel uncomfortable. I hate, hate, hate that I feel this way. That I've become more closed, more cynical, more angry. Those of us who fall through the cracks, who hold multiple marginalized identities--queer and Jewish, black and Jewish, Indigenous and Jewish--we are ignored and silenced, our voices and experiences entirely spat upon as being a front for 'Zionist crimes' or whatever new buzzwords they create.

I've decided that first and foremost, I am Jewish. The me that was proud to be a part of the queer community is dead. I want to support the progressive causes of antiracism and social justice, but they hate us. They want us dead. They wouldn't view my participation as being a genuine gesture of solidarity, but an evil Jew Zionist seeking to con them and co-opt support in order to aid our evil apartheid genocidal settler-colonialist white supremacist illegitimate entity in a land that should really be given to Hamas anyway.

How am I supposed to hold space for other minorities when nobody is holding space for us right now?

#antisemitism #jewish #jumblr #leftist antisemitism #left wing antisemitism #jewblr #antizionism #progressivism

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

ON AN AUGUST night in 2003, a young woman who went by the name Paulina sank into the sofa of her modest, rented apartment, opened up her laptop, and began talking about sex with a man she’d recently met in a Yahoo chat group. His name was Stephen Bolen. His first communications had been terse, but he soon warmed to Paulina. It didn’t take long for both of them to begin to open up.

Paulina had told Bolen she lived in the Atlanta area, that she had a three-year-old daughter, that her daughter’s father was no longer in the picture. Soon, she was sharing more intimate details: what it was like growing up a skinny white girl in a rough neighborhood outside of D.C.; how her dad, a Marine, had died by suicide two weeks before she was born; how her mom had been emotionally and physically abusive, and had never really shown her love. How she’d had a sexual relationship with her stepfather.

Paulina would put her daughter to bed and then she and Bolen would chat throughout the night, over Yahoo and sometimes on the phone. The back-and-forth could feel like dating, but with an added element of danger and risk: Both Paulina and Bolen knew they were tiptoeing up to a line to see if they trusted each other enough to cross it. It could take a while to figure that out.

Eventually, Bolen asked Paulina to send pictures of her daughter, and she agreed to do so, though the ones she’d shared were chaste — the little girl clothed and her face turned away from the camera or obscured behind an untamable halo of blond curls. After seeing the pictures, Bolen asked to meet. While a lot of the men Paulina had encountered in chatrooms like “Sex With Younger” just wanted to trade images and videos of children, to expand their illicit collections, Bolen was a “traveler,” someone looking to act upon his obsessions.

On Sept. 17, just as they’d arranged, Paulina sat on a bench outside Perimeter Mall with a stroller parked in front of her, scanning the parking lot nervously. Part of her hoped Bolen wouldn’t show. When he did, she could see he was handsome, a preppy guy in a pink polo shirt and khakis. “Paulina?” he asked eagerly. She nodded. As he smiled and pulled back the blanket draped across the stroller, he found himself surrounded, handcuffs slipped around his wrists.

“Paulina” watched his face fall, his confusion giving way to distress as FBI agents took him into custody. It was her first undercover arrest. It would be the first of many.

[long read]

IF ONE WANTED to hide in plain sight, one could do no better than the tidy, suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of St. Louis, where FBI Special Agent Nikki Badolato now resides. The well-tended, two-story homes are so pleasantly indistinct that I could hardly tell you what hers looks like, even if it were safe for me to do so, which it is not. Suffice to say that Midwestern comfort and conformity unspool around every gently winding curve. Here Badolato has raised her two children, a daughter who is now in college and a son who is a junior at a local high school. When planning a neighborhood scavenger hunt or tending the community garden, Badolato does not often mention her many years as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force, a joint effort between the feds and local law enforcement that targets some of the country’s most heinous crimes. Open a cabinet in her kitchen, however, and a government-issued Glock 42 can be found stowed away between the vitamins and mixing bowls.

On a sunny morning this past October, Badolato sat at her dining room table, scrapbooks and albums spread out before her on the dark wood. There was the acceptance letter she’d received from the bureau the spring of her senior year of high school, after a representative had shown up to administer a test in the typewriting room. “I chose to wear a red dress and red heels,” she says of her first day as an FBI mail clerk, two weeks after her 18th birthday. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I guess maybe I was trying to go in bold?” She pauses at a picture of herself on the gun range at Quantico almost 10 years later, her shoulders squared and her caramel hair pulled back into a ponytail as she fires off rounds. By then, she’d married a man she met just after high school, had a little girl, completed college at night, and been accepted into agent training in the heady days after 9/11. She’d seen her first dead body only a few weeks into the job, after the pursuit of a bank robber ended with a shootout in a Walmart. When Badolato got to the scene, the body was still warm, and the perp’s head was resting on a bag of cookies. “It was surreal,” she says. “How many times have you been in a Walmart and walked down Aisle 4, not really expecting there to be a dead person with his head lying on a bag of Chips Ahoy?”

Badolato wasn’t deterred. She felt like the bureau saved her, plucked her out of a shitty home life, and gave her prospects and purpose. As a new agent, she was intent on proving herself worthy. “My training agent told me, ‘You know, Nikki, it’s a marathon, not a sprint,’ ” she says. “I was like, ‘That’s ridiculous. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.’ ” She turned a few pages to show a picture of the 391 kilos of cocaine and 140 pounds of meth she’d recovered on a single raid during a stint with a cartel squad, then pointed out another in which she poses with a five-year-old child she’d rescued, the little girl’s hair cut short because the kidnapper had wanted her to look like a boy. But the keepsake she really wants to find is the card that Bolen’s wife had pressed into her hand at his sentencing, the one with the picture of their children — a blond girl of about three years and a tiny baby — and the words “These are the faces of the children you protect each day.” Bolen’s wife had been the only one she’d ever encountered who had lobbied for her husband to receive the maximum sentence. Some wives accused the FBI of planting evidence inside computers. Most seemed intent on clinging to their delusions. (Attempts to reach Bolen for comment were unsuccessful.)

“Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It is happening all the time.”

Which, Badolato has come to understand, is the way it goes with child trafficking and sexual abuse. She had invited me into her home — had agreed to speak on the record about her decades-long career working undercover — because when it comes to the crimes she’s spent her career fighting, she has had enough of the delusions people are under. She’s had enough of the way movies like Sound of Freedom both glamorize and trivialize the work she and her colleagues do, enough of the idea that swashbuckling white men burst through doors and rescue trafficked children with a Bible in one hand and a firearm in the other, enough of conspiracy theories about Hollywood and Washington that detract from the real root causes of why children are trafficked and abused. “Human trafficking is not the movie Pretty Woman — the girl doesn’t get the guy — and it’s not the movie Taken, where people are kidnapped in a foreign country and sold on the black market, or shipped in a container across the world,” one of the detectives who worked on Badolato’s task force tells me. “I’m not saying that doesn’t ever happen, but it’s not what we’re seeing.”

What they are seeing is a lot more insidious and a lot more homegrown. A report released in 2018 by the State Department ranked the U.S. as one of the worst countries in the world for human trafficking. While the Department of Justice has estimated that between 14,500 and 17,500 foreign nationals are trafficked into this country every year, this number pales in comparison to the number of American minors who are trafficked within it: A 2009 Department of Health and Human Services review of human trafficking into and within the United States found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that between 244,000 and 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked specifically in the sex industry. Heartbreakingly, many of these children are victimized not by strangers who’ve abducted them from mall parking lots but rather by people they know and trust: Studies have found that as much as 44 percent of victims are trafficked by family members, most often parents (and not infrequently parents who were trafficked themselves). Between 2011 and 2020, there was an 84 percent increase in the number of people prosecuted for a federal human-trafficking offense. Of the defendants charged in 2020, 92 percent were male, 63 percent were white, 66 percent had no prior convictions, and 95 percent were U.S. citizens.

Badolato started her career as an FBI agent in some of the earliest days that children could be bought, sold, and traded online. As the internet-porn industry mushroomed, its most lucrative branch turned out to be that of child sexual-abuse materials (the term “child pornography” is no longer used by those in the field, as it implies consent). And as demand for these images increased, so did the abuse that led to their creation.

In 2003, just a few months after Badolato graduated from Quantico, a Crimes Against Children squad was formed in the Atlanta office where she’d been stationed. By then, the FBI was starting to get a handle on the extent of the problem — if not exactly what to do about it. At a weeklong training in Baltimore, Badolato was given a tour of the darkest underbelly of fetish chat groups and then instructed to figure out how to infiltrate. “Everyone was a little nervous,” she explains of the directive. “It was a process, a direction that was new.” Agents were told that they would need to come up with a “persona” and a “story,” and that they would likely have to provide images of children to “prove” they had a minor on offer. They were also told that they could use images of their own children, if they were comfortable doing so (the FBI no longer endorses this policy).

Badolato’s unit with a kidnapping victim after her recovery in 2011. A Health and Human Services review found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that as many as 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked in the sex industry. 

Badolato developed “Paulina” based on her understanding that any persona would need to share most of her own backstory and traits. “That’s the only way you can really do undercover work,” Badolato says. “People can tell the sincerity in what you’re saying, so there has to be a level of genuineness, but then you just add this criminal element to it.” Most of the things Badolato had told Bolen were true: where she was from, her family background, the monstrousness of her mother, a woman who she says would pass out cigarettes and beers to Badolato’s 13-year-old friends in a state of manic permissiveness one minute and fly into a violent rage about a piece of lint on the floor the next. (Badolato’s mother declined to comment for this article, but a childhood friend corroborated Badolato’s account.) It was true that growing up in an unstable home with a string of stepdads, she had never really felt loved, true that she had divorced her first husband, true that she was raising their three-year-old daughter on her own. The only thing that wasn’t true was her tale of being molested, her initiation into the “lifestyle” — to use the chatroom parlance — that Paulina said she now wanted for her daughter. As Badolato had familiarized herself with the language and behaviors of the chatrooms, she’d honed that added criminal element, imagining what psychological conditions might believably lead a parent to traffic their own child and how those conditions could be grafted onto her real life story. She already had a history of abuse; it was not hard to extrapolate to a fictional stepfather who had seemed to provide a gentle counterpoint, showing her love and making her feel special when no one else had, even if others couldn’t understand. From there, it was easy to convince the chatroom participants that she shared their belief — or justification — that most people had it all wrong and that “child love” was natural, and could even be beneficial for the child.

Badolato estimates that she has arrested more than a thousand people; not one of those arrests has failed to end in a conviction. She didn’t know until she was in the thick of it that most agents refuse this sort of work, that most can’t even pretend to forge a relationship with someone looking to victimize a child. But she could. “Paulina,” she points out, is not a name she chose at random; it’s similar to her own mother’s name. Badolato says she had grown up learning to compartmentalize for the sake of her own emotional survival. She’d perfected the art of engaging with someone whose actions she couldn’t stand. Doing this work had felt like a way of taking her trauma and putting it to good use, of leveraging her past as a safeguard against her daughter’s and other children’s futures.

Of course there were moments that were hard to take — when suspects mentioned which brands of lubrication were best or whether or not a parent might hold a child down. There were times when she knew that even talking about these things was a turn-on for these men, times when the conversations made her nauseous, times when she’d lie awake all night or play back a recording and think, “Holy shit, I listened to this? I said these words?” But she kept faith in the mission. She reminded herself that the pictures she sent of her daughter — the beautiful, little girl sleeping in the next room — did not represent a real child on offer. “I was thinking, ‘If I send this obscure picture of my daughter and he acts on it, then he’s never going to harm my daughter or anybody else’s,’ ” Badolato says now. “I was presenting a fake girl to save a real one.”

KYLE PARKS SEEMED to think he could get away with anything. He seemed to think, for instance, that he could get away with running a brothel, a 1-900 sex line, and a housecleaning company out of the same Columbus, Ohio, office park and under the same oxy-moronic name, XXXREC and Hygiene Services. He seemed to think he could invite one young woman and five teenagers (four of whom he had only just met) on a road trip to Florida, but instead deposit them in two rooms of a Red Roof Inn in St. Charles, Missouri. When they piled out of the minivan — high on the drugs he’d given them — saw snow falling and asked to be taken home, he thought he could make a little money off them first. All it took was a few ads in Backpage — the Craigslist of sex advertisements — and men began showing up.

Even after things started going south for him, Parks couldn’t fathom that he wouldn’t prevail. When someone alerted law enforcement as to what was going on, Parks (who, according to legal documents, had been out getting food when the police showed up) burst into the precinct the next morning looking to bail his “friend” out. When questioned about the 88 condoms found in the back of his van, he said they had been prescribed to him by a doctor. After being taken into custody, he protested that he was being set up. Most people would have cut their losses and pleaded guilty, but not Parks. He thought he could take his case to court and win.

And it wasn’t impossible to imagine that he might. Badolato knew that even the tightest cases could go sideways when put before 12 people who would inevitably enter the courtroom with a cinematic sense of what sex trafficking was supposed to be. In fact, it wasn’t just the jury that Badolato knew she would need to convince; it was also often the victims themselves, young people who had internalized the exact same misconceptions about trafficking that the jury had — along with any number of other judgments society had thrown their way — and who were loath to submit themselves to a courtroom full of more judgment.

Of all of Parks’ underage victims, the hardest to pin down had been a 17-year-old we’ll call Sierra. Once she returned to Columbus, Sierra seemed to basically disappear. Calls to her mother’s number went unanswered. When one of the other victims managed to track her down in December 2016, a month before the case was to go to trial, Sierra agreed to meet Badolato on a blighted Columbus block with a string of dilapidated homes, climbing into the bureau’s Chevy Malibu with matted hair, dirty clothes, and a wary expression.

By this time, Badolato had remarried, had a second child, relocated to St. Louis, and taken over as head of the Child Exploitation Joint Task Force, which had become one of the most productive FBI teams in the country in terms of arrests and convictions. Meanwhile, as the internet streamlined the process of buying or selling any good or service, trafficking had become one of the fastest-growing criminal enterprises, estimated by the Department of Homeland Security to bring in $150 billion globally and considered by many criminals to be a superior business model: If caught, the sentences were often lighter than those for peddling drugs; and unlike crack or heroin, the same product could be “used” again and again and again.

Badolato taught her team of 20 how to do the online undercover work she’d trailblazed in Atlanta, tracking the movements of child-abuse material through the online underworld and then prosecuting those who distributed and produced it. Her new squad also initiated her in the type of undercover work it had been doing before her arrival: covert sting operations in which a detective would pose as a john, set up a “date,” and then meet said date in a hotel room fitted out with hidden recording devices while, in the next room over, a taskforce team listened in, waiting for the code word that would let them know that enough evidence had been gathered for them to swoop in and shut the op down. This had proved a very effective technique for getting convictions, but Badolato’s arrival coincided with both a growing sentiment that consensual sex work had been over-criminalized and an increasing awareness that what looked like consensual sex work might actually be trafficking, no matter what the “date” professed in that hotel room.

Badolato has a tendency to say aloud the things she notices — about you, about others, about situations — observations that are not at all unkind but are perceptive enough that most people would keep them to themselves. She points out when someone deflects, and she has a sharp eye for defense mechanisms. She once casually mentions my tendency to mirror other people’s vocal and speech patterns. She is not shy about bringing up the emotional and physical abuse she says she experienced as a child, and she is quick to comment when someone is making excuses for someone else’s behavior. It was soon clear to her colleagues that Badolato brought a trauma-informed mentality to the work, a tendency to look beyond what someone was doing and instead try to parse why they were doing it. And she was relentless: While some squads did one or two trafficking sting ops a year, her team was doing four or five a month. In addition to the hotel rooms reserved for the john and the team, they would have a social worker set up in a third room, ready to offer services to the victims. They would have lookouts stationed to see who might be dropping the date off. If that date was found to be underage, the case was automatically classified as trafficking. But even if they weren’t, Badolato’s team was primed to get to the bottom of what was going on, to figure out whether they were being manipulated or coerced, and by whom.

“If I could put my hands on a pimp, that’s what I wanted,” says Jeff Roediger, a St. Louis county detective who was the “john” for many of Badolato’s sting ops and who makes clear that the team was not interested in policing voluntary sex work. “When I had those types of cases, and I knew they were being sincere with me, I wouldn’t book them,” he says. “It was all about talking to the girls. It’s not like in the movies where they come running to you. You know, ‘Thanks, you rescued me!’ It’s not like that. A lot of them try to bullshit you at first — ‘That’s my boyfriend, blah blah blah’— but once I talked to them for a while, they would become more forthcoming.”

Badolato’s unit was one of the first in the country to take on this “progressive and proactive” approach, as she puts it. Soon, St. Louis looked like a sex-trafficking capital — not because it was actually trafficking more victims than other cities but because the task force was so aggressively pursuing those cases, and classifying them as what they were. “I mean, I was working in vice for years,” says Roediger. “Back in the day, it was always ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution’ — until we started to figure it out a little bit, until we started digging a little deeper.”

Once they did, the task force found that roughly a third of the sex-trafficking victims they recovered were under the age of 17 — and they began to see the reach of the problem. Kids were being trafficked out of every hotel in the area, from the seediest roach motel to the fanciest Ritz-Carlton. They were being trafficked every time of day and by every socioeconomic group (“Before you go do brain surgery, you got to bust a nut real quick,” one underage victim told Badolato of her high-end clientele). Some of the victims were girls. Some were boys. Some were LGBTQ kids who’d been kicked out of their homes. Some were straight cis kids from the suburbs. “I tell people that I could probably name two or three [kids] in the school district they live in that have been trafficked,” Roediger says. “And they just can’t comprehend it.”

“If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work.”

There were kids who were about to age out of foster care (a particularly at-risk group, according to those who work in the field), kids who’d run away, kids who were being sold to pay their family’s rent, or to buy their family member’s drugs. There were kids who’d sit in the hotel room, backpack at their feet, dutifully working on their math homework while agents and social workers tried to figure out what to do with them. Was their home life safe enough that they could be returned to it? Would a residential program take them? Of all the imperfect options, which would make them least likely to be trafficked again?

The one common denominator was this: They all had a vulnerability that could be preyed upon. They all lacked a safety net — societal, familial, emotional, or some combination thereof — that might have broken their fall. Mostly, their stories weren’t dramatic; they were typical American tales of neglect, of abuse doled out casually, of a steady stream of letdowns by people and institutions who should have propped them up. Badolato found that she had a knack for getting them to talk about this, for getting them to open up to her. She didn’t look like an FBI agent — at least not what they’d imagined. She spoke softly, but with authority and a slight vocal fry. And she thinks that, at some level, they could probably sense that she’d once been a vulnerable kid too, that with only a few slightly different twists of fate, she could have become a trafficking victim herself — and that she knew it. “My trauma looks different than theirs, but it’s trauma nonetheless,” she says.

“And I think victims can feel that.”

AS THE TASK force learned more about the psychology of victims, they also learned more about the ways in which their vulnerability was being manipulated, and how those ways were evolving. It was known in law-enforcement circles that once a skilled trafficker set his or her sights on a vulnerable young person, they could be groomed in a matter of days: one day for an introduction, a day or two to make the victim feel special and cared for, and then the day when a “friend” comes over and he needs to be “cared for” as well. Sometimes violence was involved at that point; sometimes drug use was involved throughout. But emotional manipulation was the key element, which is why it was so easy for grooming to move online, for groomers to take advantage of the false senses of connection fostered on social media.

Of the victims who are not being trafficked by family members, the majority are being groomed in this way. “I would say that probably 75 percent of the initial grooming is happening online now,” says Cindy Malott, the director of U.S. Safe Programs at Crisis Aid International. “Recruiters used to have to work really, really hard to get access to kids, but now they’re practically sitting in a child’s bedroom. And kids put everything out there — what’s going on in their life, who they’re angry about, parents are going through a divorce, their insecurities about their body, about themselves, what they do, how they spend their time — so it’s like a gift to these predators.”

The ways to manipulate are legion: Get a kid to send a compromising photo, and she’ll do almost anything to keep you from sending it out to all her Facebook friends; find out a gay kid is still closeted, and the threat of outing him gives you incredible power. And predators aren’t just on Instagram and Snapchat; they lurk in the chat functions of Roblox, Minecraft, Grand Theft Auto. “They’re everywhere,” says Malott. “People think, ‘Oh, I just got to keep my kids away from those porn sites, those horrible places.’ Well, no, predators are gonna go where the kids are.” And once there, they’re going to zero in on the kids who are most vulnerable.

That’s what got to Badolato. In her online undercover work, she’d plumbed the psychology of pedophiles, but now she wasn’t just dealing with suspects; she was spending time with victims and seeing the same vulnerabilities in them that the traffickers had seen: the instability or poverty, the addiction or mental health issues or abuse that had been normalized in their lives long before the traffickers entered them. Sometimes Badolato couldn’t help but feel that all the conspiracies and misconceptions weren’t just a distraction from the truth of trafficking but rather some sick attempt to let society off the hook for trying to solve the much more intractable problems at trafficking’s root.

“People would rather stick their head in the sand than address the real problem, because then you have to face and talk about the societal issues,” she says. “With a movie like Sound of Freedom, it’s like, ‘Oh, this is in a jungle in South America. This isn’t actually in [my neighborhood].’ You know? It’s easier for people to ignore the problem than deal with the issues on a societal level.”

BY THE TIME Badolato was sitting in that Chevy with Sierra, on that blighted Ohio block, she knew that the rate of revictimization for children who are trafficked was as high as 95 percent, according to FBI reports. She knew that 90 percent of sex-trafficking victims have a history of child sexual abuse, that more than 75 percent had lived in foster or adoptive care. She knew that she could arrest one perpetrator, and another would pop up in his place, that she could send one pimp to prison and the same victims would show up to stings some short time later, run by a different crew. She knew that testifying was a way for Sierra to psychologically push back against what had happened to her, and she was right: After the young woman took the stand on Jan. 10, 2017, Parks was found guilty and sentenced to 25 years; while testifying, Sierra had seemed to transform, to channel and embody a sort of empowerment. But Badolato also knew that once her testimony was over, Sierra would go back to that blighted block. She wondered how long that empowerment would last.

She also wondered about her own trajectory, her own ability to continue doing this work. The youngest trafficking victim she’d ever recovered from a sting op — an 11-year-old who’d been recruited through Facebook — had been returned to her family in a house that had no heat (Badolato had used an FBI slush fund to get it turned back on). One did not become immune to the human misery of such things. They compounded, became harder and harder to compartmentalize. “It’s just a combination of all of those years — and it’s all awful,” she says. “But there are particular moments that, for one reason or another, you can’t get out of your head. I just don’t think it’s in human nature to be exposed to that for so long and it not start changing who you are.”

One night, at a restaurant near where Badolato lives, I ask her whether she thinks children are being sex-trafficked right then, in that very moment, in just the mile or two radius around us. She’s quiet for a long time, her gaze fixed downward at her glass of wine. By the time she looks up, her whole body is trembling. “It’s happening right now,” she says quietly. “Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are three or four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It’s not only when we think about it. It is happening all the time. And if I’m just sitting here, present, having dinner, not thinking about it, that means I’m ignoring a problem that I know is real.” Tears stream down her face.

“Many images have never left my mind,” she says. “It’s really hard to have worked your entire life in law enforcement with a lot of child crime victims and be at the end of your career looking at the situation where you realize you can only do so much to make a difference.” Badolato wipes back the tears with the palm of her hand and shudders her head, as if she can shake the thoughts away. “Damn,” she says. “Fuck. I shouldn’t be the one crying. I’m not the victim of this.” The veteran agent steels herself and repeats, “I am not the victim.”

THE HOUSE WHERE Korina Ellison says she was first sex-trafficked no longer exists. It once stood on an unassuming lot in a residential suburb of Portland, Oregon, that stumbles down to the banks of the Willamette River. Now, Ellison can’t quite bring the house’s features to mind. She was so young back then, maybe four or five. There is so much she’s repressed, or only pieced together after the fact. As a child, she wouldn’t have known what she now believes to be true: that her grandmother scored her drugs by offering up her youngest daughter, Ellison’s mom. Or that, once her mom was hooked on the meth cooked by the man who’d lived in that house, she’d known just what to do to get more. But Ellison does remember being inside the house, unclothed. She does remember how the man would touch her.

Her life unspooled from there. Her father died of a heroin overdose when she was six. Her mom lost custody for good. She bounced around foster care, then various residential institutions, then whatever shelter she could find. In the story she tells of how she was sex-trafficked again in her teenage years, there’s no moment of drama, no kidnapping, no clear coercion. There was just a random, rainy afternoon when she had no place to go and was alone in the street and a car pulled up. The man inside took her home with him, fed her, introduced her to his girlfriend. They took her shopping. They let her stay. When men showed up at the home to have sex with the woman, Ellison was invited to watch, but she wasn’t expected to participate — not at first, anyway. According to a statement Ellison later made to law enforcement, she just “realized that people aren’t going to take care of [me] for free.” Soon, the woman was posting Ellison’s services on Backpage — $150 for half an hour, $200 for a full one — and the trio were traveling the Midwest. For a long time, it didn’t even occur to Ellison, then 16, to leave. “Where would I have gone?” she asks. “I’d been missing for over a year. Nobody was looking for me.” When the man told her to call him “Daddy,” she complied.

That was more than a decade ago, near the beginning of Badolato’s tenure as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force. But by 2021, leaving it had seemed a necessary form of self-preservation. One of her last cases had gone well legally: The perp, a retired police officer from California who had produced child sex-abuse materials of three sisters in Manila, had pleaded guilty to such charges when he learned that Badolato had brought the girls to the states to testify against him. But the experience had been emotionally devastating for Badolato, who had wanted the sisters, then 16, 13, and 11, to have memories of the U.S that consisted of more than reliving their trauma in a courtroom. She took them shopping and to the zoo, invited them to her home to have dinner with her own family, saw them slowly start to open up and laugh and behave like the children they were. Then she’d had to put them on a flight back to Manila, back to the aunt who had allowed the man to abuse them and who Badolato had been unable to extradite. Fortunately, she says, their estranged father ended up intervening and taking custody of the girls, but that feeling of futility in the fight lingered.

“I stayed for a little bit longer after that trial, but it really was when I should have been able to look myself in the mirror and say, ‘Nikki, you’re done,’ ” Badolato had told me in St. Louis. “It became clear that I had been doing it too long.” She’d spend the last couple of years working national security, a position without the immediacy of child-exploitation work, but also without the heartache. “If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work. I just don’t,” she says.

And yet, here Badolato was in Portland, leading Ellison, now 30, up to her hotel room, telling her about all the announcements she’d heard in the Atlanta airport instructing travelers to be on the lookout for sex trafficking. “It’s like white noise in the background,” she says as Ellison settles into the sofa. “It’s a false sense of doing something to help.”

“Here’s the thing: Nobody knows what to look for,” Ellison agrees.

“And what about the victims who are in that airport, who are walking around and listening?” Badolato asks.

“I wouldn’t have even heard that announcement,” Ellison replies. “Because I didn’t feel like a victim. It goes a lot, lot, lot deeper than anybody realizes.”

That’s what she and Badolato both understand. That’s why they started talking eight months ago. Of all the teenage victims Badolato’s task force recovered, Ellison is one of the few who she knows has permanently extricated herself from being prostituted, though it took years for her to get to that point, years for her to see that what happened to her was not her fault but rather a fault in the system, a fault in many systems over the course of generations. Neither she nor Badolato can fix that.

Yet they can’t help feeling like there’s something they can fix — or at least try to. Under the umbrella of an organization she’s founded called Innocent Warriors, Badolato created a program for schools, instructing educators on the signs that might indicate a student is being trafficked and teaching kids how to avoid getting groomed online, which, she believes, is not about stranger danger but rather an awareness of subtle manipulation. Ellison has been working with trafficked youth through nonprofits like Children of the Night, the residential program where Badolato’s team sent her when she was 17. Together, they’ve been talking about having Ellison help train undercovers who are learning to do trafficking sting ops. They’ve also discussed starting a mentorship program in which children who are still being sex-trafficked are paired with young adults like Ellison who once were, providing a way for victims to begin to envision a different future for themselves and a path toward it even while being prostituted. Such a program may be retroactive rather than proactive, but it would capitalize on Badolato’s and Ellison’s experience and expertise — and it could help in the healing of mentors and mentees alike.

Badolato had traveled to Portland for the two to talk face-to-face about how the program might work. “You have to understand how they’ve been traumatized because sometimes, to a child, relating doesn’t sound like you’re relating. It sounds like you’re pointing out all the bad things in them,” says Ellison from the driver’s seat of her Nissan Pathfinder as she drives Badolato around to show her certain landmarks of her past after she’d left Children of the Night: the bridge she’d slept under for over a year after a boyfriend had gotten her hooked on heroin, the blocks downtown where she’d bounced between a children’s shelter and the needle exchange. It had taken a prison sentence for her to finally break her addiction and commit to a different kind of life, though that evolution had had less to do with not having access to drugs than with seeing her own mother cycle in and out of the same facility — like looking into her own future and witnessing how bleak it would be. Maybe, she thought, she could provide the inverse of that for kids in Innocent Warriors. Maybe she could reverse engineer her own escape.

“I just want to make it very clear that if you were a victim, you are a victim, and just to not have any shame in that,” she tells Badolato as they drive through Portland’s misty streets.

“What I anticipate and hope is that then we get survivors that are like, ‘They get it,’ ” Badolato replies. “And that it opens up doors to help, for people to recognize that there are people who get what’s really going on.”

“It took a really long time for me,” Ellison says of coming to terms with her own victimhood.

“It’s like reworking your thought process about some of those things,” Badolato agrees. “And that’s hard, and it happens slowly over time, and it looks different for everybody.”

Ellison grips the wheel tightly. “The truth does matter. It does. The truth is the fucking truth. And it’s been empowering to be able to talk about it because that’s another way that I’ve realized, like, ‘Man, I was a victim,’ is re-going over all of this. Because when it happens so many times, you do blame yourself. It’s a lot easier to just continue to live in a lie than believe that you were lied to.”

Still, Ellison and Badolato agree that the impressionability that makes children vulnerable is also what makes them open to guidance and mentorship if a relationship of trust can be established. “What do you think a parent does? They groom you. I’d been waiting to be guided and groomed,” Ellison says.

It’s been instructive to see that potential from another perspective, as a mother doing the guiding. As the afternoon wears on, Ellison stops to pick up her then-15-month-old son, who was being watched by a social-worker friend. She buckles the little boy into his car seat, ruffles his hair, and passes him a bottle. He grins widely and begins removing his shoes and socks, throwing them gleefully onto the floor of the car and then kicking his tiny feet in time with the music as Ellison glances back at him and smiles. “Kids are so perfect,” she says.

The last stop of the day is the large plot of land where the drug dealer’s house once stood. Now, it’s been turned into a playground, with brightly-colored jungle gyms, a covered picnic area, and a large lawn, where a couple leisurely walks their dog. Ellison and Badolato climb down from the car and stand at the park’s edge, as Ellison’s son toddles around the grass, oblivious to what had transpired in that very spot. There is some form of poetic justice in the land being earmarked for children’s enjoyment, but neither woman voices it. Mostly, they’re quiet. Night is falling, the air growing cooler, and the gray sky fading into dusk.

“You would never think a park could hide what it used to be,” Ellison says at last. And yet it did. Driving off with Badolato at her side and her son babbling happily in the back seat, Ellison glances in the rear-view mirror, but only for a moment. Badolato keeps her eyes fixed only on the road ahead.

[ghostfoolish]

Saying that Louis did a racist act for putting up that “no whites allowed sign” on his buisness has got to be the dumbest thing ever said in the fandom. Like the white people around him saw that shit and laughed because they knew they had all the control at the end of the day and that Louis was desperate to hold on to the power they were taking from him. Even Finn o shea who’s a poor white man under Louis’ employ laughed at it because it didn’t affect him. Like the show is laying out for you why reverse racism isn’t real and you’re still like “but Louis was racist for doing that”

#interview with the vampire #iwtv

[auras-moonstone]

Hey,

Can you write a mini story of Jack and the reader. And can the trope be a fake dating for the media. Also can you the reader as an actress as well. And during their fake dating fling, they developed their feelings for each other but weren’t that sure to admit. So Jack calls it off and starts dating another girl. Later on, he realizes he still has feelings for the reader. And you can write the ending, please surprise me!

hi! i love this trope😫 hope you enjoy it🤍!

lost in translation — jack champion

word count: 2,944

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n and jack are working on a rom-com together and are asked to fake date. feelings bloom and jack calls it off, breaking y/n’s heart and, as collateral damage, their friendship.

author’s note: this is me claiming my love for louis partdrige (he’s so pretty😫) and lynn painter (read her books she’s amazing)

Y/N HAD ALWAYS BEEN A BIG ROMCOM LOVER, SO WHEN SHE GOT THE ROLE OF LIZ ON THE ADAPTATION OF BETTER THAN THE MOVIES, SHE WAS ON CLOUD NINE. She met Jack (the boy who was going to play Wes, her love interest) on the chemistry read and the director instantly fell in love with their dynamic, and that’s how they got the role.

During the shooting, Y/N and Jack developed a close friendship. But the fans of the well-known rom-com book started shipping them even when the content the community managers shared was very scarce—just a few pictures of them on their breaks or during the filming, and some bloopers. The whole media kept talking about them, about how good they looked together, how their chemistry transcended the screen; and so the people involved in the publicity of the movie made a decision.

“You want us to what?” Y/N asked dumbfounded.

“To fake-date. The press tour is about to start, and we think you two dating can really boost the excitement for the movie” the head of publicity stated. “We can’t actually make you do it, as it wasn’t originally in the contract, but we think this is a great idea. The people love you”.

Y/N looked at Jack, who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since the suggestion. “Jack? What do you think?”.

“Can we talk about it? Alone?” he asked to the man in front of them, who reluctantly nodded before leaving the office. “I honestly don’t know shit about publicity, but if they think it’s going to help, then we should do it”.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Jack nodded “It’s you the one who doesn’t seem sure”.

“I don’t have a problem with fake dating you, I just don’t want our friendship to become weird or anything, because I value it a lot” Y/N told him. Jack’s heart broke, knowing how hard it was for her to establish friendships after her old friends started acting weird and became more interested in the events she could take them to rather than in her well-being and life. He knew he was one of her only real friends and now felt bad she had been put in such a spot.

“Hey, no. It won’t, it’ll be just like when we were filming, right? Just that we will do it in public” Jack tried to reassure her, pulling her into a hug.

“Okay… let’s just promise that if we get uncomfortable or if it’s becoming too much, we’ll be honest with each other and call this thing off, okay? Our friendship is way more important that the publicity” she said, looking him in the eyes.

Jack smiled, and showed her his little finger “I pinky promise”. Y/N laughed, wrapping her pinky with his.

And so their fake relationship began, not knowing that no promises could stop the feelings that were meant to evolve.

THEY COULDN’T REALLY TELL THE EXACT MOMENT EVERYTHING CHANGED. The shift in their relationship was so natural and gradual that they almost didn’t notice.

Everything was done more often—dates, kisses, hand holding—, physical touch seemed to be a need now—it could be just intertwined fingers or his arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers around his waist—, longing glances when the other wasn’t looking, eyes drifting to each other’s lips everytime one of them was talking. They even had dates out of the public sight—even though none of them called it a ‘date’, they simply convinced theirselves it was a friendly hang out. They slept at each other’s houses, waking up the following day with Jack’s arms draped around her waist while her back was pressed against his front or, their personal favorite, Y/N’s head on his chest and arms around his torso while Jack’s was wrapped around her shoulders pressing her more against his chest.

So yes, it was so slow and felt so natural that it took them time to realize they had fallen for each other. Both of them had completely different reactions—while Y/N decided she was going to take a risk and confess her feelings, Jack’s fears blinded him. It’s not that he didn’t want to admit his feelings, but everytime the option of confessing crossed his mind the words she spoke came to him: “I just don’t want our friendship to become weird or anything, because I value it a lot”. Y/N had been so scared of their friendship being ruined because of the fake dating thing, Jack knew keeping his feelings hidden was the best option. But also, he couldn’t keep hurting himself and that was exactly what he was doing by pretending to be her boyfriend when he wanted it to be real.

Friday came around, meaning it was their sleepover day. They had just finished eating the spaghetti Y/N made, and were about to choose a movie to watch when Jack decided to speak up at the same time Y/N opened her mouth to confess.

“Oh, sorry. You can tell me” Jack told her. Y/N shook her head, signalling him to go ahead. “I have been thinking and I think we should call the fake dating thing off”.

Y/N’s mouth was open, yet no words came out of it. She had been thinking for days what the best way to express her feelings for him would be. She had a whole speech planned and was now left speechless.

“Oh… okay, if you feel is the best thing” she faked her best smile, while trying not to fall apart right in front of his eyes. “I just… need to ask, is everything okay? I mean, this is very sudden”.

“I just feel this is becoming too much, and you said we should be honest with each other” he simply answered.

Y/N nodded playing with the remote control in her hand. It was clear, he felt uncomfortable being her fake boyfriend because he only saw her as a friend. “Right, yeah. Thank you for telling me, then. We should talk to the head of publicity tomorrow. The press tour is almost over, so there shouldn’t be any problem”

“Cool” Jack nodded. He should’ve felt relieved that she took it so well, but instead, he felt sad. Maybe even disappointed in the fact that she didn’t fight the decision. And he also felt angry at himself for expecting so much of her part when it wasn’t her fault that he had fallen for her and she didn’t feel the same.

Jack had wanted to save their friendship so bad, he didn’t realize that the conversation had been the first crack in the glass.

Y/N REALLY DID TRY TO NOT LET THE CIRCUMSTANCES INFLUENCE THEIR FRIENDSHIP, BUT THEY WERE SLOWLY DRIFTING APART. The texts were becoming less frequent and drier, the hang outs were brief and filled with awkwardness and so were their conversations.

The publicists thanked all the gods that the press tour was over, because they had never seen two people have less chemistry than Jack and Y/N. It was so hard for everyone to comprehend how two people whose eyes used to spark when they were around the other suddenly became lifeless.

But their breaking point came a few weeks later, it was the thing that made them stop talking for good. No more texting at all, no hanging out—alone or in public—no conversations, no looking at each other, no interactions at all.

Y/N was watching a movie with her friends, Millie and Louis, when Millie suddenly gasped. Y/N and Louis laughed “Mills, if you are with your phone while we’re watching a movie at least be discreet” the girl said, but Millie didn’t laugh or apologise, she just stared at her with saddened eyes, which made Y/N frown. “Is everything okay?”.

“When was the last time you opened social media?” she asked, while Louis took her phone to see what she was looking at.

Y/N saw him clench his jaw, which made her feel more confused “Um, I barely use my phone anymore, just to text… why? You’re scaring me, guys” she laughed nervously, trying to take a peek at the phone but Louis hid it quickly “Lou, give me the phone”.

The boy sitting next to her shook his head “It’s not the best idea”.

“Tell me what is going on, please. You’re making me anxious” Y/N’s voice was almost begging.

Millie sighed “It’s a picture someone took of Jack… he’s with a girl. They are… holding hands and exiting a restaurant”.

“Let me see” Y/N said extending her hand, but Louis just refused to do it. “Louis. Phone. Now”.

“Come on, Y/N/N, don’t be a masochist” Louis told her.

“I’m just going to see it on my phone later, so what you’re trying to do is useless” Y/N pointed out.

Louis sighed in defeat and gave her Millie’s phone. Y/N stared at the picture—Jack was looking as gorgeous as ever and her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She missed him so fucking much, she hadn’t heard his voice in days (now she knew why, he was too busy). And then her eyes trailed to the girl holding his hand. She was very pretty—tall, long legs, blonde, muscular, stylish—and Y/N couldn’t help but compare herself with her.

“Stop it, I know what you’re doing and just don’t” Louis said, turning the phone off. “You’re gorgeous and way too good for him. It’s his loss, and he doesn’t deserve you”.

Y/N broke down for the first time in weeks, her feelings had been bottled up and the glass that held them inside finally exploded. Louis quickly put his arms around her, and Millie joined them in a heartbeat.

“I still have the fucking premiere” she cried harder when she remembered “What if- what if he goes with her? I can’t go”.

“Are you kidding me? You’re not going to miss the premiere. You work so hard for this! It’s your favorite rom-com and you are the main protagonist!” Millie said. “This is your dream. And you’re not going to let this ruin it”.

“I know, Mills. But I won’t be able to handle it. He’s going to be there, and even if she’s not there, I know he’s with her and looking at him knowing that will kill me” Y/N said, brushing away the tears. “Besides I can’t face that alone”.

“You’re not going to be alone. I’ll go with you” Louis offered.

“You actually had a great idea for once!” Millie exclaimed, making Louis roll his eyes and Y/N let out a little laugh. “Lou will be there for moral support, and you won’t feel alone. But you are definitely not going to miss your premiere”.

“Thank you, guys. I love you”

JACK’S MIND HAD BEEN A MESS LATELY. Y/N stopped responding his texts, it’s been two weeks with no signs of her. He would’ve been worried if he hadn’t seen the instagram stories her friends, Millie and Louis, posted with her. So it didn’t take a genius to realize she was ignoring him on purpose, and he didn’t have a clue why. He missed her so much, it was driving him insane. Jack wanted to go back to that night and take back everything he had said, they still would be fine if he hadn’t opened his mouth.

Jack thought that by cutting off the deal, they would go back to being friends and his feelings would have eventually faded away. He even started dating a girl he meet at the gym, but Y/N lingered on his mind all day, every day. And when the day of the premiere came, his eyes searched for her figure as soon as he arrived to the red carpet.

Jack’s smile widened when he saw her. She looked absolutely breathtaking—as always—but then his smile fell when he realized she was with someone else.

“Can you at least be a little less obvious?” Kate asked.

“Sorry” Jack apologised. “Thank you for coming with me, even after our breakup”.

“It isn’t a break up if we weren’t really together. It was just a couple of dates to benefit the other. You needed to get your mind off her, I needed to get my mind off my ex” she answered. “Although I have to say, I don’t know if me coming was the best idea”.

“Maybe not” Jack said, stopping for a picture “I just couldn’t face it alone”.

“He’s with her” Y/N said to Louis, faking smiles as the photographers flashed their cameras at them.

“I know. I’ve been feeling his stare ever since we arrived” Louis replied. “He’s totally jealous, I can feel it”.

Y/N shook her head “You’re speaking nonsense”

“Nope, I know what I’m talking about. And I get it, you’re looking incredibly stunning and you have an eye-candy with extremely good bone-structure on your arm”

“And with a big ego” she added with a laugh. “Let’s go, eye candy”.

“Don’t you need to take pictures with him?” Louis asked in a whisper as they approached Jack and his date.

“Yeah” Y/N sighed, chest tightening as they reached them. “Hi” she greeted, looking at Jack—who looked beyond handsome—and then set her eyes on the girl next to him. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you”.

“Kate” she greeted with a smile “And we both not that’s a lie” Kate laughed, surprising her. “It’s okay. Just, take the pictures and please, for the love of god, talk to each other!”

“Hi, I’m Louis and I’m very confused” the tall boy next to Y/N spoke up. “But I agree with the last part” he added, then looked at his friend “I’ll see you later to see the movie, okay? Let’s go…”

“Kate” the blonde girl reminded him as they walked away.

The two teenagers looked at each other, not knowing what to say. “We should… pose for the picture maybe?” Y/N broke the silence.

Jack nodded nervously “Yeah, yeah”.

He put his hand on her waist, and they both tensed. It had been so long since they were this close, their skin felt like burning and their hearts were beating at a dangerous rhythm. They only posed for a couple of seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. But once it was over, the awkwardness came back.

“Let’s go inside, our dates are waiting” she spoke up.

They entered the place, but as Y/N began to walk away, Jack’s hand grabbed hers making her stop in her tracks. “No. We need to talk first”.

“Jack, the movie is starting in a few minutes”

“A few minutes is all I need. I—we—can’t go on like this” Jack said. “I’m sorry. If I’m being honest, I don’t know exactly what I did, but I’m sorry for not trying hard enough to save our friendship”.

“That’s the thing, Jack. It isn’t your fault, it’s all on me. I’m the one who drifted apart because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings” Y/N let her guard down, willing to be completely honest. After all, their friendship was already dead.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked confused.

“I love you, Jack. I- I wanted to tell you. In fact, I planned on telling you during our last sleep over but-“

“But I called our deal off” he finished, cursing himself.

Y/N nodded “I understood that acting as my boyfriend was too much for you, because you only saw me as a friend. But I just couldn’t go back to being just your friend, I tried for a while but it was really hard. And then, you started dating her and… it killed me. I just couldn’t talk to you knowing you had someone else”.

Jack shook his head, wanting to laugh at the situation “The reason I called it off is because I fell for you, Y/N/N. I didn’t think you felt the same, and I knew how important our friendship was to you. I wanted to protect it, but instead I messed it up”

Y/N looked at him with her mouth open, and then laughed drily “Really? All this time we felt the same thing and we ruined it because we got lost in translation?” she said in a tone of disbelief “And now it’s already too late”.

“What? Why?” Jack asked surprised. “I still love you… you don’t love me anymore?”

“Of course I love you Jack, but you have a girlfriend”

“Kate is not my girlfriend. She never was” Jack told her.

“I saw the pictures, Jack”

“We went to a couple of dates, we both needed to get our minds off the people we loved. But we stopped once we realized how silly it was, we’re just friends” he explained. Jack took one step closer to her until her back touched the wall behind her “I love you and I want to be your boyfriend… that is if you aren’t dating Louis”.

Y/N laughed, her smile now impossible to erase “No, he came as a friend”

Jack smiled in relief “So…”

“So, boyfriend, we should get inside, our dates are waiting” Y/N said, a teasing smile on her face.

Jack laughed “Can I kiss you first?”

“I’m begging you” she said, grabbing the collar of his suit to push him down. Their lips met in the middle and they both smile through it “I missed this, I missed you”.

“God, I missed you too. You have no idea” he said, kissing her harder.

“Hey, this is a family friendly place” Louis’ voice interrupted them “Get inside, love birds, your movie is about to start”.

Jack and Y/N looked at each other with lovey smiles and, hand in hand, they entered the theatre to see the movie that brought them together.

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jack champion fluff #jack champion x reader #jackchampion #jack champion imagine #jack champion oneshot #ethan landry #louis partridge #millie bobby brown #better than the movies #liz buxbaum #wes and liz #wes bennett #jack champion fanfic

[tapesfrom1980]

dating louis partridge would include..

-london dates. absolutely

-louis loves his city and knows it inside out, he will take you to EVERY spot he knows (if you aren’t from london or unfamiliar with it)

-vice versa, when he visits the US you’ll show him all the places you could visit during his trip

-making fun of each others accents

-“bottah o wota 🤓”

-“oh yeah? howdy partner! gonna rustle up some grub?”

-“i’m not even from the south you idiot!”

-teaching each others lingo

-“why do you call them chips?”

-“why do you call them french fries? you’re not even french”

-“if you call french fries chips, what do you call actual chips?”

-“crisps!”

-visiting him on set <3

-taking pictures of him in his character costume and making him pose

-“oh you look so precious lord tewkesbury”

-he gets all blushy and pretends to hate it

-despite his multiple kissing scenes with millie, you and her are great friends

-“oh y/n, i am so happy to see you on set again! it’s been ages!”

-“oh don’t mind me right here ladies”

-you loved his look as sid, he was a little hesitant about the hair at first but with some flirting and compliments he ended up really liking it

-while you weren’t a big fan of the role itself, he looked incredibly handsome and keeping your hands off of him was more difficult than you thought, especially the scene with him shirtless in a cowboy hat

-“like what you see?”

-“oh please, calm yourself”

-“don’t act like i haven’t seen you yearning for me to kiss you this whole time”

-he was the cockiest little shit when he knew his effect on you

-“whatever”

-(louis is definitely not the jealous type, this is for my delulu girls including myself)

-he’s always liked to be touchy with you at all times, but when you’re at a red carpet with him / premiere or generally just in public and he can tell guys are wanting to talk to you, he’ll kiss you basically every minute

-“y/n, knock knock”

-“who’s there?”

-*smooch*

-you pretend not to know what he’s doing, but it makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy

-he’ll have his arm around you 24/7

-one time when a guy had the confidence to come talk to you while louis was talking to a castmate, he was over in a flash.

-“hey babe! who’s this?”

-“we’ll i’m-

-“oh yeah! anyways, y/n, we have that date for 7:00 tonight. i got us a hotel room for after too. they even have a jacuzzi, can you believe that?”

-the guy had long gone rolled his eyes and walked away

-“you have nothing to worry about louis, trust me”

-“thank y-

-“i specifically told all my secret boyfriends not to come talk to me so you don’t have to see them”

-“haha.”

-PASSIONATE KISSES !!!!!!! (!!!)

-this man will grab your face and kiss you and pull you as close as possible to him

-another classic, he’ll put his hands on your waist and trace his finger tips around it during a deep makeout session

-he KNOWS his effect on you and will take every chance possible to make you flustered

-coming to his model events, who wouldn’t?

-it gets so difficult for him sometimes, he has to ignore his girlfriend in the audience who is silently cheering like crazy and blowing kisses

-you like to bring him bouquets of flowers each time and he loves it, it makes him feel appreciated. especially with how many times he had been rejected as a model for his height (true story, isn’t that crazy??)

-weekend getaways on weeks he isn’t too busy, you go out to a different area each time usually just the two of you

-even when he’s extra busy, he’ll try to still make room for at least a saturday. he doesn’t wanna lose the special connection you have

-he is such a sweetheart. such a sweetheart

-he was raised to be a gentleman and it SHOWS

-if you guys are outside and paparazzi or fans get too rough, he won’t hesitate to raise his voice at them. it’s one thing to overwhelm him, but his girlfriend? never in a million years would he allow that

-same with backlash from fans, he doesn’t care if they don’t “like” your relationship and he’ll publicly speak out about the backlash if it gets too much

-candid pics!!

-he loves taking candid pics of you when he thinks you look pretty (basically every hour of the day)

-tons of polaroid / film photos

-he has them hung up and has his favorite one of you together in his wallet so he can always have you near him

-when you wake up and have bed hair, when you’re doing your skincare / makeup, when you’re eating etc

-he loves buying you outfits or accessories and seeing you in them, especially jewelry

-he never gets you ring finger rings, he wants to get you one when it’ll be only ring you’ll ever wear for the rest of your time

-he’s the best

#tapesfrom1980 #louis partridge #viscount tewksbury #louis partridge x reader #lord tewksbury #louis partridge x y/n #tewksbury x reader

[agendabymooner]

of long lines and names || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

Summary: Aimee Yael and Charles Leclerc are too young to have five kids under six, but those boys became the life and memories that the couple wanted to keep forever. OR a series of scenarios during Aimee’s pregnancies that Charles remembered the most.

Content warning: Pregnancies with twins/five kids, dad!Charles and the grid uncles, based on Charles’ long name, a crying Charles, mentions of Anthoine Hubert, Niki Lauda, Jules Bianchi and the Leclerc dad (nothing too graphic nor personal, mostly based on their names only), loss/grief, Toto being a d-bag for a moment, possible use of explicit language, family-centric/dad!Charles-centric content, mentions of other Hearth sisters children (Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen)

Note: This will be a flop but I love these fictional Hearth-Leclerc kids. I love all of their kids! In fact, I have a series of spreadsheets dedicated to the Hearth sisters, and other characters and the names of their babies. Enjoy xx

masterlist

2024 — Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu and Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé Leclerc

Aimee Yael Edmunson (Hearth) had never been stressed before. She had no reason to be. As a woman from a wealthy family — the granddaughter of Scottish billionaires and a daughter of an FIA executive — she had no reason to stress over the little things that were in the area of her control. Like her half-sisters, she had the money and intelligence to handle things well.

All except for the two little things in her womb that were continuously developing as the fourth month of her pregnancy went on. It was hard to hide it from everyone if you were to ask her. She had already spoken to her mother about carrying this amount of children in one go— Amara Louise Edmunson had only given birth to one child, and it was her. Nobody knew the struggle, but her mother had comforted her as much as she could. 

Aimee was calm despite the disaster that happened to be an unplanned pregnancy, her rational mind thinking that she shouldn’t be in some form of distress or discomfort to avoid any complications in her body. 

Her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, thought otherwise.

When her body hit the ninth-week mark, there was already a tiny bump that someone might have seen as bloated. A natural one, no? But Charles was known to overthink things, and when he somehow got his prediction right, he had never cried so hard about having not only one— but two kids. He cried as if he was the one with the uncontrollable hormones. Aimee watched him cry empathetically, feeling grateful that she didn’t have this much anxiety that could risk her health and her babies. Still, she wondered if the tears he shredded were tears of joy or something else. 

Charles said he was happy, but at the same time, he thought of how their families would react— minus Pascale, Blanche and Amara.

When her body hit the seventeenth-week mark, they couldn’t hide it from their families any longer, hosting a dinner at their home in Monaco where Aimee did all of the cooking. Everything she made were cravings that became stronger as her first few weeks of pregnancy went on—rice, pasta and somehow a good selection of desserts and pastries that Charles ordered before the dinner. 

Welcoming each family member into the house wasn’t the most significant part of the dinner. The maternal figures of Charles and Aimee’s lives — Pascale, Amara and Blanche Ford — were on standby just in case someone decided to act differently towards the two. 

Stevie and Lewis Hamilton were clearly (too obviously) shocked at the protrusion in Aimee’s stomach but hadn’t made any comment on it for a while. They merely spoke about their daughter Lottie, who would cuddle with Roscoe whenever her little crawling body approached him. They were talking about their child, all while their eyes peered down on Aimee’s growing body. 

Sylvie and her fiancé Max Verstappen were surprised. Still, the model had managed to pass off her shock as excitement over the invitation to the couple’s new home before she tried to maneuver through the huge bump in the road— or rather, in Aimee’s body. Max tried asking Pascale and Amara about it by mouthing, “Is she actually?” only to receive a glare from them. Blanche scolded him quietly to keep it shut while she served him a drink. 

Charles dreaded inviting his brothers into his new home because they always picked their timing. When Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc saw Aimee’s bulging figure, they immediately turned away and snorted aloud. Charles wasn’t this anxious about anything as exciting as this, but Arthur’s offhanded comment, “I’ll be attending your funeral when Toto finds out,” definitely had him recoiling. Pascale had to smack both her other children for scaring Charles off. Aimee nearly cried on the spot when Arthur made the joke, to which Charles returned to his composure and glared at his youngest brother for making her feel so shitty. 

The mentioned man and his wife were met at the front by the three maternal figures. Toto Wolff wasn’t typically this intimidated. He was usually level-headed, but how they stared at him while they welcomed the couple left him asking what was happening. Tilly seemed to sense some sort of protectiveness towards whatever it was, and when she had gotten a glimpse of it, her eyes sparkled at the sight of Charles’ hand over her little sister’s stomach. She wordlessly grinned before tugging her husband down on a seat right across the two. 

Toto couldn’t say a word if he were being truthful. The moment his eyes settled on the bulging stomach, his glare toward the Monegasque driver hardened. This was Toto’s nightmare, but it wasn’t as if he could just say that in front of the most overprotective women to have existed. So he threatened Charles wordlessly, passing words back and forth with other people while he glared at the Ferrari driver whenever he piped up. 

“So…” Toto started after finishing what seemed to be his second wine of the night. “Aimee, you’re pregnant. How long?” 

“Uh,” Aimee shifted uncomfortably, scared even to look Toto in the eyes. “Seven- seventeen weeks.”

“She’s seventeen weeks and four days—“ Charles was thrilled. He was. But the stare that Toto gave him immediately had his mouth shut as he looked back and only settled to hold his girlfriend’s hands underneath the table. “Four days,” he murmured to himself. 

“So explain how,” Lorenzo started but had given up halfway through, gesturing at Aimee’s stomach, “how has she grown this much if she’s only that much?”

“Yeah, about that,” Charles’ grin widened continuously as he announced, “We’re having twins.”

Aimee and Charles’ siblings were cheering for the couple as a series of hollering escaped their mouths. Pascale, Blanche and Amara were grinning from ear to ear while Toto… he was a man that was hard to please.

“Two?” Toto uttered, already pouring himself another glass of cabernet sauvignon. “And you two are… getting married?”

“What?” Arthur blurted out with an incredulous look, shooting in Toto’s direction. Sylvie and Stevie looked at each other, asking themselves, ‘what the fuck is he on?’ 

“Uh no,” Charles nervously laughed, but no one seemed to understand the memo when Toto glared at him as the Monegasque muttered, “but I suppose this is a wrong answer to say aloud.” 

“We’re not going to get hitched,” Aimee laughed in confusion, “why do we have to?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Do we have to get married?” Aimee looked at Tilly for some help.

Tilly, sensing the discomfort from the pregnant woman, reached to pinch her husband in his side, eliciting a groan from him as she glared, “No, you don’t have to.” 

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sylvie glared at Toto. “Tils and Toto didn’t get married until Tia came along.” 

“So, you’re just going to be waiting for the fourth child to be out until you marry?” Arthur asked bluntly, leaving him to cower when Stevie, Lorenzo and Sylvie shot him a look of annoyance. “Oh mon dieu, je pose juste une question.” Oh my god, I’m just asking a question. 

Toto wasn’t sold at the thought of his youngest in-law being pregnant with another driver’s children. He’d seen Stevie get married off to his own driver, Lewis, and it still never sat right with him to witness them being married or having a family with some men. Charles could agree on the same thing, because if his hypothetical daughter was to be courted and even have a boyfriend he wasn’t sure how he would act either. 

He didn’t think that he would have the same problem with vice versa until he found out that Aimee was carrying two boys. He wondered how to prevent them from having girlfriends or boyfriends at an early age because he was certain that Aimee would just play mother of the groom on the pretend wedding that the boys would have at a young age. 

But his worries withered away when he held Hervé and Jules for the first time. He could still remember realizing how strong they were from the grip they had on his fingers. He could still remember the sight of Aimee crying after she introduced them to their father— not wanting to see Charles cry again due to the tribute that she had given to Charles’ family that passed years ago.

Perhaps it was a good idea that she did the crying this time; she deserved it after watching him have a breakdown over the little things that he didn’t need to worry about — and Charles needed to have the backbone for thinking himself as a shitty father for his unborn children. 

“What’re their names?” Esteban almost laughed after seeing Charles stare at Pierre mindlessly. It really wasn’t a good idea for Gasly to have Charles repeat the babies’ names all over again especially when the Monegasque was way too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

Mick kicked Pierre lightly with a hush, rocking the baby in his arms as he quietly asked, “Do you not listen or do you just live to piss your best friend off?”

Charles glared at Pierre, whose smile stood out as he giggled. Scoffing quietly, Charles gestured to the boy in his arm, “Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé.”

Then he nudged his head at Mick’s direction before he introduced the other twin, “and the boy in Mick’s hold is Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu.”

“Sorry, I didn’t listen, Shal can you—“ 

“Oh my fucking god. Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

“I’m kidding,” Pierre snorted as he quietly cackled. “What do you call them though?” 

2026 — Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc

Torger Wolff promised that he wasn’t going to squash Charles Leclerc’s head until it popped once that Hervé and Jules Leclerc were born. 

He loved his nephews after all and spoiled them as much as their Uncle Toto could. He made sure the boys had their bunk beds prepared at the Wolff home in Monaco or England just in case they came for a sleepover with his son Adelmo and his niece Lottie Hamilton — who were just about the same age as the twins. He spoiled them equally. 

But god, was he ever ready to get rid of their Da the moment he received a text from the Monegasque with the words, “She’s pregnant.” 

“Morning, Sainz, is your stupid teammate in the office?” Toto didn’t even listen to the Spanish man’s answer as he continued to make his way to Fred Vasseur’s in-site office at the Scuderia Ferrari area. “Charles Leclerc! I’ve warned you once—“

The Ferrari team principal turned to look at the entryway of his office with a scowl, crossing his arms in annoyance. Toto wasn’t even in his team’s area and he was still acting like he shouldn’t have to knock at the damn door. The man that he was addressing, however, was teary eyed when he turned to look at Toto. 

“Is this your third or fourth?” Toto asked, still glaring at the Monegasque. 

“Third,” Charles wanted to smile but the last thing he wanted to do was die in this damn motorhome. In the hands of Toto Wolff, of all people.

“And no ring?” Toto then found him holding whatever in his hand, peering down as his mouth opened slightly. 

In Charles’ hand was a gold ring, ruby sitting on top of it as he clutched on it tightly. It wasn’t just a gold ring. From what Toto had learned, it was Aimee’s grandmother’s engagement ring. 

“I was— proposing to her—“ Charles sobbed quietly, a smile now resting on his face as he begged himself not to ugly cry in front of the Mercedes team principal. “Then she said Herb and J were going to be big brothers. I was on my knees, Toto! I promise! I want to propose first but she just spewed that— oh god, I have three children now.” It didn’t even dawn on him that he was about to have three under five until he cut himself off. 

Then he was just crying hysterically in the middle of the office with Carlos barging in frantically. “What the hell, Charles?! Are you okay?” 

Toto smiled proudly at the Monegasque driver, clapping him on the back before he shrugged at Carlos Sainz and Fred. “Don’t worry about him,” Toto replied quietly to the other men, “he’s having his third child, that's all.”

Carlos and Fred were confused and scared. They weren’t sure if it was because of Charles’ breakdown on the floor of the Ferrari team principal’s office or if it was because of Toto’s calm demeanour. But regardless, if Toto said not to worry, then so be it. 

Baby Boy Leclerc was written on his little hospital bassinet. But Toto got the first glimpse of his birth certificate. 

Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc.

Toto had no reason to be upset. He wasn’t. He was just as equally as annoyed at himself when he realized how overprotective he was when it came to Aimee - who, as of this point, had already given birth to her third baby. He had no reason to be protective especially when she was doing a damn good job at protecting her two children. Now, he had the chance to witness her protect Sacha — the boy that they named after Niki Lauda, who happened to be close to the Hearth sisters before he passed. 

Like Tilly’s second pregnancy, Aimee and Charles welcomed their son to the world with wedding bands in their fingers. Pierre almost had a stroke watching Charles boast about his wife and their third son— but the final nail in the coffin had something to do with Sacha Leclerc having Pierre as a namesake. It wasn’t everyday Pierre got to pass out over such a small thing— but to be a namesake and named the godfather of the child? Yeah, Pierre Gasly would boast about him too. 

Arriving back home was easy. However, according to the Leclerc children’s grid uncles, writing down the boy’s name into the banner (which said, “Welcome Baby Sacha Niki Pierre Phi—(with a gap) lippe”) was quite complicated. They had done a good job with the twins’ welcome banner two years ago, but according to them their handwriting got too sloppy. 

Lando groaned quietly, “Don’t give them such a long name next time. Look at Max! His name is just Max.” 

Max Verstappen reached for a balloon on the floor before hitting Lando with it, “It’s a Leclerc thing to give them six names, of course they have to have the long name.”

“Oi, don’t make fun of my name,” Charles called out from the kitchen, pouring his two boys some glasses of apple juice the toddlers babbled in protest against their Uncle Max’s response. “Even H and J aren’t happy with what you said. You’re not being kind to your own nephews the more you make fun of me.” 

Pierre chuckled, sitting next to Aimee as she fed Sacha. The Frenchman said, “I’m so convinced that those two are Charles’ minis.” 

“They are becoming more like their Da as days go on,” Aimee pulled her tank top’s strap back on and began to burp Sacha. “I’m so outnumbered as of this point.”

“Baby PJ’s going to be like his Oncle Pierre, I can tell you that much,” Pierre smugly said, reaching out to caress Sacha’s cheek as he said, “I’ll be his big mentor and I’ll make sure his Da doesn’t have much influence on him.”

“His name is Sacha, Pierre,” Aimee rolled her eyes. Pierre, from the moment he was told of Sacha’s full name, had decided that the baby’s nickname was PJ — or Pierre Junior. He hadn’t even held the baby yet when he walked in the room but he had already staked his claim and declared Sacha as a Mini Pierre. “And you said the same thing to Herb and Jules when you met them, look how they turned out. They’re so much like Charles.”

“We all have our trials and errors,” Pierre mumbled, “and you know what they say— third times a charm. Maybe PJ will be the same.”

2029 — Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval and Alain Marc Léonard Arthur Leclerc

“You have quite some swimmers,” Pierre cackled hysterically, slapping Charles in the chest as he tried to get his shit together instead of laughing at the fact that his best friend has five children under seven. He really couldn’t when he had to remind himself that Aimee had given birth to another set of twins just a day ago. 

Charles began to curse at him in French, already exasperated after the long night that Aimee had. She had a labour that lasted longer than the previous pregnancies that she went through and it annoyed her more than it made things painful. Charles’ five year olds and his three year old son were fussing about not being around their mother for longer than two minutes and were already on the way to the hospital with their Mamé Pascale and Mamma Blanche, eager to meet their little brothers. 

Pierre, Max, Lewis, and Mick were all standing in front of the glass window of the hospital nursery with Charles, eyes all trained on the twin boys that slept peacefully alongside other infants. Charles never wondered, but he was always surprised that Aimee was this strong to even give birth to five of their children— fuck that, she had given birth to five of his boys. He couldn’t even find himself to swear to his best friend when he was too busy loving the shit out of his newborn sons. His boys. 

On the men’s left was Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval, whose personality was already showing by the way his resting face wrinkles to a scowl. Pierre couldn’t afford to cry over the tribute to their friend who passed years ago that all he did was laugh at his best friend’s experiences in fatherhood. He could just cry later on, the Frenchman told himself while he continued to pester Charles about his five sons. 

Next to Anthoine’s bassinet was Alain Marc Léonard Arthur, whose soft smile had the men outside the nursery melting as he cooed softly and shifted around. Charles and the others could tell that out of the two of them, Alain would be the one to stop the Ferrari driver from ripping his hair out.

Anthoine would most likely give Charles a run for his money and raise hell with Hervé and Jules. 

Alain would be the one to be as angelic as PJ — whose nickname stuck after Pierre continued to visit the boys every other week — and his mother Aimee, whose youthful glow remained despite entering her motherhood five years ago. Aimee wasn’t that outnumbered after all.

Max scoffed next to Pierre, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t known anything about protection.”

“I’ve had practices,” Pierre winked at Max, making the Dutchman grimace. “Just no luck yet. It’s not as if I’m shaming Charles for it.”

“Five kids are better than none,” Lewis shrugged, still looking at the twins on the other side of the window. “How you’ve done it— fuckin’ beats me— but I sure as hell am jealous.”

“Never hurts to try for one more,” Charles chuckled. “You really think Lottie and Leland would be satisfied to have each other? It doesn’t really make a good playhouse squad.”

Lewis huffed, “They’ve already got your boys, Adelmo and Max’s Millie. I don’t think Steve would appreciate having to push out one more.”

“What about you, Max?” Mick joked before nudging the Dutchman with a smirk. “Opting for one more?” 

“I’ve got a girl,” Max deadpanned, “and I’ve another one on the way. I’m not the kind to be greedy but I think Millia and Lila would make good big sisters to a little brother, don’t you think?”

“Are you two settling for the little girl’s name then?” Pierre asked. “Lila?” 

“Poor Sylvie doesn’t even have a child named after her,” Mick laughed. 

“She named our daughter Emilia,” Max defended himself, “I didn’t ask her to name the girl Emilia. She just said it’s too damn pretty.”

“Besides, Max isn’t really known for giving things good names,” Lewis teased. “Last I checked he wanted to call Emilia ‘Jane’.” 

“Fuck off, Sylvie loves Jane Austen,” Max scoffed, shoving Lewis slightly when the British man laughed. “Besides, her name would have been Blue or something.”

“All jokes aside,” Lewis paused before clapping Charles on the back. “I’m pumped to see your bunch hanging out with their cousins. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Four months,” Max murmured. “It’s been four months for all of us.”

“I know,” Charles rolled his eyes. “H and Jules are looking forward to the Australian GP— they’ve been wanting to wreak havoc in the paddock since Abu Dhabi.”

“Those kids of yours need to lose that energy,” Pierre chuckled. “Have you ever taken them for a walk?” 

“I always take them out for a walk,” Charles muttered. They just have a bad habit of running away from their Da. All the freaking time.

Speaking of.

“Da!” 

“Look at those little devils go,” Pierre and the other men turned to the direction of the sound of running feet, hoisting little PJ up in his arms while the eldest Leclerc children ran towards their father, who had immediately lifted them up and pressed a kiss on their cheeks. 

“Where are they? Where are they?” Hervé and Jules tried to keep their voices down, as they were told by their Mamé before they entered the hospital— begging their dad to show them the newborn babies as he pointed through the window.

“Oncle P,” Sacha reached for his godfather’s scruffy face as he murmured, “où est Maman?” Where’s mom? 

“Elle dort comme un bébé,” She’s sleeping like a baby. Pierre whispered to the boy, now pointing to the babies as he continued, “Like your little brothers.”

“Mm? Mais il ne dort pas,” But he’s not sleeping. Sacha pointed at the baby to the right. “He’s no sleeping?”

“He looks like you, Da. Look,” Jules pointed and said in awe while grinned at his father. “And he does too!” 

“He’s like me and Jules!” Hervé exclaimed in amusement. “They look the same, Da!” 

“Yes they do,” Charles grinned, “because they’re like you two. Twins!” 

“How come I don’t have twin?” Sacha asked, slumping against his Oncle Pierre. Max and Lewis turned to the boy and offered him a soft smile. 

Mick then reached out, “It’s better that you don’t,” he joked, “you’re one of a kind, little PJ.” 

“But he won’t have any driving partner for Ferrari?” Hervé protested in annoyance. Charles laughed at this. His sons were born to be Ferrari drivers, said once by Sebastian Vettel. They were born to a Ferrari driving father and a mother who worked for McLaren. Even the amount of papaya outfit never stopped the Leclerc children from aspiring to become the Prancing Horse’s next generation of drivers. 

All but one. Sacha turned to look at his eldest brothers and said, “Me and L’land are driving for Mercedes!” 

“No! You’re driving for ‘Rari, ‘member, PJ?” 

“Mummy said I can drive for anyone,” Sacha pulled himself away from Pierre’s chest for a second to cross his arms, pouting at his eldest brothers. “I wan’ drive for ‘Cedes!” 

Lewis looked at Charles with approval all over his face, obviously cocky at the statement made by the three year old.

“You don’t want to drive for Alpine like your Oncle P?” Pierre asked, goading his godson into joining his team.

“Hm, maybe! But I wanna be like Uncle Lew and Da!” 

“Mon chou, you are like Da,” Charles grinned widely. “You and your brothers are mini Charles.” 

Seeing his sons now — the two that he held in his arms, the toddler that Pierre had on his own pair and the other two that were just born yesterday — had him thinking about the importance of their names and their existence. Charles didn’t seem to think of himself as someone so sentimental, but his life with Aimee seemed to change his viewpoint. He valued his family more than he did before. 

He didn’t care much about carrying the family name as long as he could remember where his sons’ names came from. 

If his eldest asked, he was more than willing to tell them a story about how Hervé and Jules got their names from their late grandpa and uncle. If PJ asked, then Charles and Aimee would sit him down to tell the boy about Aimee’s Uncle Niki and great grandfather Philip Hearth. And someday when his youngest grew curious, he’d tell them all about Charles’ good friend Anthoine and a French driving legend named Alain Prost. 

He’d sit them all down to let them know about the people that he and Aimee loved and how they loved to keep their memories alive through the boys. 

But for now, Charles Leclerc was quite content with nurturing his boys with his wife. He was only looking forward to caring for Aimee Leclerc and their children. Then maybe someday, the Leclerc bunch would grow to care for their mother too.

#formula one fic #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smau #formula one smau #f1 fanfic #formula one dad #formula one #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fiction #f1 fluff #f1 fandom #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc f1 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc ferrari #ferrari f1 imagine #formula 1 fluff #formula 1

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Katsuki Bakugou x Popular/MeanGirl!reader - oneshot about Katsuki loving his ruthless girlfriend!

Ok, the title is a little misleading, you're not that mean! you just do unto others what they do to you...and Katsuki loves it. As always, please let me know if you want more, and if you have any ideas for the future <3 calling this a songfic, because it's hugely based on Don't Touch! by Lil Mariko

warnings: lots of cursing, mentions of castration, and one chaotic good(?) reader

______________________________________________________________

When you first arrived at UA, a late entry as you lived in the Americas prior, everyone loved you, and surprisingly that included Bakugou. Of course, it took him a long time to warm up all the way, but you started dating after a few months of getting to know each other. What could he say? You were pretty, smart, patient with him, and best of all, you didn't take crap. He learned that the first week of your arrival, when his attempt to bully you fell short. You actually took a liking to him, so he was spared most of the passive aggressive fate he saw you give some others. You were just nice to people who were nice to you, ergo most considered you sweet as candy while some considered you a total bitch.

You were hot and you knew it, and believe it or not it caused a lot of people to spread rumors about you. He'll never forget the first time he saw you in action, it was as satisfying as it was attractive. While walking to lunch, a pair of 2nd years were standing to the side whispering and pointing to you. one of them yelled out, "slut," while the other laughed. You, being the bad bitch that you are, turned around, smiled pleasantly, and put on your best innocent demeanor. "aw, I'm really sorry for getting your dick hard, maybe next time try and keep your eyes a little higher, yeah?" It. Was. Magnificent. The two were flabbergasted to say the least, and Katsuki himself was glad to finally see someone who didn't act like a saint all the time.

Long story short, you were his other half, and he had gotten used to your mocking, sarcastic way of handling assholes...until the day of the Sports Festival. You and Katsuki were were perusing the food stands, you dragging him around from place to place, him trailing behind like the grump he was. One stand actually caught his eye, a sign claiming to have the spiciest sauce in the city to compliment their renowned Takoyaki. You were standing with him, looking around while holding his hand, when out of the corner of your eye you saw someone point towards you. You didn't turn your head, not wanting them to know you noticed, but kept an ear out to see what they were saying.

"yeah, he's the one I was telling you about."

"that guy? No way he's with a girl like her."

"I know, right? He has to be keeping her with him, probably scaring her into staying."

Oh hell no. You weren't going to let this slide, it was one thing to talk about you, but a whole other thing to talk about your relationship. You whipped around, yanking a very confused Katsuki with you. Katsuki had heard the two talking, but was far too enamored with the spicy sauce to actually listen. "Hey," You yelled, using a voice Katsuki hadn't heard out of you before as you raised the hand holding Katsuki's into the air for all to see. "See this?! This means he loves me, so next time you go and make assumptions, why don't you keep your damn mouth shut?!" You step closer to the pair of stunned teens, wearing a look that could kill. Your voice was low and menacing now, making sure they understood every syllable. "Next time I hear you talk shit about my boyfriend, I'll take the Louis Vuitton's He bought me, hunt you down, and castrate you."

The two whimpered, stuttering out a response but unable to finish before running off with their tails between their legs. You watched them dash, one hand on your hip and the other in Katsuki's, before turning to him with that same bubbly smile you always had. "Alright, let's go get ice cream, I'm still hungry!" He had this unreadable expression on his face, and when you tried to pull him to the ice cream he stood stock still. "...What...?" You were fearing the worst.

Were you too much for him? Did he realize he wanted someone nicer, like Ururaka or Momo? This time, he did dragging of his own, yanking you in the opposite direction. He pulled you along without another word, looking left to right, before stopping next to an empty vending stand. "Katsuki, what are you doing," You asked, he was worrying you.

He looked around again, making sure no one was watching, before yanking into the stand with him.

He never answered you with words, but the way he made out with you for the remainder of the Festival break kind of spoke for him. Right then, when you were threatening those extras, was the moment he realized he loved you. Actually, no. He already knew he loved you, despite the fact he never said it (yet). Right then was the moment he knew he'd marry you. You wouldn't know that story from his perspective until he told it at your wedding.

______________________________________________________________

hope you enjoyed, I had this story on my mind all last night and was just itching to write it! let me know if you want more of this!

#bakugou katsuki #fanfic #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou #new to this #new to tumblr #mha

[bingusbongu]

Hey can you do a legoshi x male lion reader dating hcs? Bug boy means everything to me fr 🤞

A/N: RaAAAHHHHH I LOVE LEGOSHI HE IS MY FAVORITE BOY, he is so silly!!!!! Im absolutely happy to do this request!!! Tysm!!!! Happy reading~!

Legoshi x Male! Lion reader dating hcs!

○ at First glance, Legoshi didnt like you, because well, youre a lion and he has had some terrible experiences regarding lion business

○ he was weary, especially with how you easily toward him despite being in the same year of school as him. Let alone, he didnt like it when you were near the more vulnerable students, he was afraid for their saftey. He knew what those teeth and claws could do.

○ though, when you were nice, especially towards the herbivores. Legoshi let off some of his worry, deciding to cut you some slack. After all, you were still a student after all. How could you have done anything bad, you weren't one of the lions who hurt him, or Haru. Maybe you werent actually a threat

○ though, when you ended up joining the drama class, he was shocked. That a big predator wanting to join acting stunned him, so did everyone! But, you managed to get along with everyone great! And the students started to warm up to you very quickly

○ and in time, you managed to actually talk to Legoshi, after him avoiding you for so long, you finally managed to crack out some conversation from him. You told him you understand his weariness, but reminded him that he couldnt always just judge a predator by his looks or past, shoving practically all his doubts up his ass

○ you manage to get Legoshi to talk to you more often! Yay!

○ he was, of course, his shy lil wolf self but you were destined to crack that shy shell and get him to talk to you more

○ which led you to getting help from Jack, who happily helped you out

○ now, you knew the secret, so, one day you brought Legoshi a free egg sandwich for breakfast and seeing how happy he got brightened your day for sure

○ so, you bringing him an egg sandwich got common, it was one of the ways you actually managed to get Legoshi to warm up to you and to actually talk to you! Win win!

○ eventually, you guys would day greetings in the halls, or after classes you meet up and talk to eachother! Legoshi obviously still afraid to share certain things, but you left it be, decided not to pry tell he was ready to tell you

○ legoshi was.. conflicted. You were a deadly preditor, that many animals feared, but you were so nice, so gentle.. unlike the other lions he had met before.

○ you kinda reminded him abit of himself, a gentle predator who wanted nothing more than to be validated and seen as sonething more than a carnivore, yet, you were alot bolder than he was

○ he started enjoying hanging out with you, even just looking forward to it, getting excited when you even gave him your number so you guys could keep in contact!

○ he started to go down a crisis, realizing how much he started liking the time with you, and how his mind would recall back to a moment where you two were touching, whether it be you patting his shoulder to comfoft him, or your swaying tail accidentally brushing past him, amd it made his tail start wagging furiously

○ jack noticed You and Legoshi hanging out alot more, and he absolutely teased the big wolfy about it

○ definitely went to Louis for advice, he was so embarrassed about it, but the deer caved in and helped him, it was kinda pathetic to see Legoshi so lost, almost worst than with Haru

○ Louis tried to persuade Legoshi to make the first move, but Legoshi, our lovely boio, was to nervous

○ so, you took matters in your own hands and invited him out to the city after school to go eat somewhere

○ Legoshi was extreamly nervous after this, especially during because he kept looking at you the whole time.

○ sweet mans wanted to hold your hand but was to anxious

○ You took his hand in his and he nearly choked on his food

○ after that, yall start dating, yippe!!!!!!

○ wolf man is absolutely smitten by you, hardly able to keeo his eyes off of you, especially during drama, which he gets yelled at for

○ Jack and the fog squad are his hype mans! Definitely hyping him up when you two of little dates like- "thats our wolf boy look at him go<333333"

○ Legoshi is to nervous to take initiative or to be the first to make any moves, so youre mainly the one who does them, like holding his habd or kissing his head?????

○ Flustered baby

○ he definitely asks you once and awhile to touch your main fur, which you happily oblige and he just melts at the softness

○ sometimes, Legoshi definitely needs Validation, he hardly gets any:((

○ So youre his supplier, making sure he knows that you care about him and love him and that he isnt a monster

○ soon, when he is comfortable, he will start coming to you if he has problems or just needs comfort

○ LET HIM TALK ABOUT BUGS P L E A S E

○ he will talk about bugs forever and you attempt to listen but youre to focused on how cute he is when he is excited (your ass is not listening!!!!)

○ i feel like if you pet him he would absolutely melt, like he starts shaking his leg like a dog and ITS ADORABLE

○ he is so touch starved, it took him forever to open up to it, but when he does he is clingy, only in private though, he would be to embarrassed if it was public

○ you two are the carnivore couple

○ what??? You think people dont notice how excited legoshi gets when you enter a room???? And the way you smile at him and come and sit by him?????

○ its so obvious hun

○ i like to imagine some people are just happy to see Legoshi in an actual healthy relationship, regardless if its with a big lion guy, hey atleast hes happy!!!

○ you need to take care of him, this poor man forgets that he has to take care of himself, so sometimes you have to force him to rest, drink water, or to eat

○ you lecture him while your probably petting him so he aint listening

○ he wants to get stronger for you to impress you and show you he is strong too!! Even though your basically the man of the relationship he still tries

○ Let him impress you, he gets so happy when you praise him like cmon

○ would throw himself into danger just to keep you safe, though you would do the same but ur like 'baby please dont'

○ definitely lets you brush his fur, and if you let him, would love to brush out your main

○ love. Him. Validate. Him.

○ he has been through alot, he needs so much love i swear

○ good thing he has you:)

#beastars #beastars x reader #legoshi x reader #legoshi #legoshi beastars #x reader #reader insert #male reader #x reader headcanons #headcanons #legoshi best boi #god let me pet him PLEASE

[moriartyluver]

Hello🙋 it's me yet again. How's it going?

Are you still taking requests? If you aren't, please ignore this.

If you are, could I please request a William x Reader oneshot? I got inspired by that poker chapter (I hate Johnson).

So, one night, William, Albert, Moran and Bond decide to play poker, and the winner will be recieving a kiss from William's wife (they somehow persuaded her to do it💀). So, William pulls some intelligent shit (I'm stupid, ok?) and obviously wins. Bonus, he asked reader to sit in his lap for good luck🤭.

I really hope this is not confusing and thank you very much! ❤️🥰

A/N: I’m still taking requests dw 😭 this request got me giggling and blushing omg 🤭 I’d sell my soul to get to sit on liams lap 🛐 (I hate Johnson too)

Character(s): William James Moriarty x fem! Reader

Format: oneshot

Genre: fluff + spicy

Prompt: above^^

Warnings: established relationship (marriage), reader is female, gambling??, a little bit spicy. Way too short 😞

“POKER?”

“That’s right, darling. We’d invite you to join but..” William trailed off as you scanned the table. Fred and Louis were observing while Bond, your husband, Moran and Albert were all sat around a table, the poker set out.

“But what?” You asked, feeing slightly left out. “Because I’m a woman?” You were half joking but everyone knew that playing games like cards or poker were not very ladylike.

Bond shook his head “You’re the prize, (nickname). The prize can’t be playing because then what shall you get if you win? It’d make more sense for you to watch instead.”

You raised a brow in confusion. You? The prize? What on earth was that supposed to mean?

“When you say it like that, it makes you sound perverted.” Moran commented from beside Bond, a subtle smirk on his face.

You look over to William as if demanding an explanation. He smiled sheepishly, it wasn’t him who had declared the bet and he’d much rather not have you on the line.

“What Bond meant to say was that the winner is supposed to get a kiss from, you, (name).” Albert explained with a smug look and a sip of wine as usual, watching his little brother furrow his eyebrows in slight irritation from beside him. “Nothing too extreme, just a little peck on the cheek.”

Clearly he had some of not all the responsibility of creating the prize. Albert wasn’t as much of a mastermind as William was, but God, he had the tendency to meddle and scheme in other peoples lives whenever it could provide entertainment.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t agree to this! You can go bet on something else,” then you paused “Nevermind that, as the lady of the house, I’d much rather not have any gambling take place within the estate, or anywhere for that matter. Haven’t you learned anything after that run in with Mr Johnson?”

“Oh don’t be like that, (name), it’s just for fun.” Moran laughed, although there was a slightly guilty tone in his voice, like a child caught misbehaving “Besides, we all know Louis acts more like the lady of the house much more than you do.”

Louis glared at the colonel then rolled his eyes while you held back a snort from his reaction.

You sighed begrudgingly “If you insist..but if I do, then the loser has to do all of my chores for the next month.”

“Two weeks.” Louis negotiated with a stern look.

“Deal.”

Fred was about to pull a stool out for you to sit on but was stopped by William calling out to you. He had his evil (yet attractive) little mischievous smile on so you knew he was planning no good. Chances were, he was probably going to win if Moran didn’t cheat as usual but with a kiss from you up for grabs, he had become even more competitive and determined to win. Both because he adored any scrap of affection he could receive from you, and because he dreaded the idea of you kissing anyone but him, even if it was strictly platonic.

“Come sit here, my dear,” He said, patting his thigh. The corners of his lips were turned upwards “I need my lucky charm to help me win your affections.”

“Do I have to?” You groaned, clearly flustered by the idea.

“Please?” He pleaded, looking at you with a teasing yet innocent expression. You gave in, walking over to him and sitting on his lap while your husband wrapped his arm around your waist, securing you in place. You look at him as if to say ‘you’re lucky I love you.’

“L-Let the game commence.” You said, hoping not to draw attention to your flushed expression as you played off your stutter

“Damn.”

“Oooh, unlucky Bond,” Albert chuckled as James frowned at his loss.

It was finally William’s turn as he was sat beside Bond and the turns went clockwise.

“Your turn, dear.” You said, hand on his shoulder. You could see a smirk forming on his face. One that he would usually wear whenever he would bring corrupt nobles to justice or read of Sherlock’s work in the paper or whenever you would tease him. A smirk he would proudly wear with satisfaction.

You peer over to look at his cards, eyes widening momentarily. You look back at your lover’s face as his eyes land on you. William gives you a wink, ever so smug from what is seconds away from being a win. You had been observing him the entire game, and yet he still managed to get his way as usual.

His hand clutched his cards, ready to spread them over the table while his other hand caressed your waist, thumb massaging the soft flesh over your clothes.

Everyone had been waiting in anticipation, silently observing your reaction aswell as William’s. It was a general presumption that he would win though, partially due to his intellect, partially due to his possessive nature.

“Royal flush.” William stated nonchalantly as he spread his cards on the wooden table.

Moran tossed his cards to the ground in anger, clearly because he had the potential to win if William wasn’t so damn lucky (not for the sake of being kissed, just for the fact he was once again so close to beating William but just not close enough) James has his hand cupped in his cheek, glad Moran didn’t win whilst Albert could care less, he just wanted another glass of red wine.

William could only smile, hoping not to appear boastful despite how badly he wanted to brag, not because he won, but because you were going to kiss him. Although it seemed you had forgotten that now because of how proud you were that he won.

“It seems I’m much deserving of a prize now,” William whispered to you, pulling you closer to him “Don’t you agree my love? I did play so well just for you.”

You pause, recalling the original deal. You hesitantly nod, still annoyed that you were the prize because if you weren’t, you probably would have won anyways.

“Fine.” You groan, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

Except you don’t.

The cheeky bastard turned his head at just the right moment, possibly intentionally, for your lips to land on his. Wolf whistles echo through out the room along with a “get a room” from Moran who recovered from his loss.

You pull away gently, tapping William I’m a faux scolding manner before sticking your tongue out at Moran, about to hurl some insults before William kisses you once more.

#—a’s anons 💄 #moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #—a’s asks 💌

[ranposbabe]

You Dangle The Mistletoe

summary: how some mtp men react when you dangle the mistletoe above you ;)

warnings: slightly suggestive in all except louis n herder (??)

WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY

William had spent the entire day locked in his study

He didn’t mind as the hours flew by but you begged to differ

All was quiet while he continued to read his book until he heard a rather loud knock at the door.

He wonders who it is (not)

He expected you to simply walk in and yet when he didn’t hear your footsteps or was only then did he turn around.

You stood there with the mistletoe laying on top of your head

Like a statue waiting for his reaction first

He attempted to hide his smirk but of course you saw right through

“Take that off your head, y/n” He sighs, his eyes still stuck to the page.

You don’t even think he was actually reading at this point, surely it doesn’t take that long to read one page

“I will if only you-

“If only I what ?”

“Take off your clothes first”

William could no longer hide his smirk

ALBERT JAMES MORIARTY

It was late eventing and Albert had finally returned from his military duties

But what you didn’t expect was to find Albert still in his uniform.

But it was a good surprise

You always thought he looked good in any colour but he something about him in red had you hot and bothered-i always get carried away when writing about Albert plss

Anyways he’s standing there looking proud and you’re dangling that mistletoe with your shaking hands and all is well

He then joins you by your side and does not hesitate in kissing you

You both enjoy yourself as you spend hours minutes kissing

When I say enjoy I mean like really enjoy

But next thing you know he’s groping your chest :0

“Albert !” You gasp at the sudden pleasurable sensations

He apologizes but he doesn’t mean it

He looks down at you with this mesmising emerald eyes that are glazed over with lust as he chuckles at the sight of your face becoming hot-

“You were holding it rather low, y/n”

LOUIS JAMES MORIARTY

Louis stood rather anxiously in the kitchen as he listed to himself the ingredients he needed to gather to prepare supper

As always you were prepared to lighten the mood

Of course it never made him feel better you just got a laugh out of it most of the time

With his back facing you, you did spend quite some time simply watching him as he worked.

You were about to make him stress even more

“I think you’re missing something.”

He acts like he knew you were there but he didn’t (at least the whole time you were there)

“What is it ?” He rather blunt while you giggle showing off the mistletoe

He just stands there looking at you and you’re starting to get freaked out by his judgemental stare

He can’t help it though he struggles with expressing himself :(

He quickly catches on and trust me he wants to give you a little kiss but what if moran walks in ???!

Nobody is ever in the mood to deal with that man

Eventually he does come to your side and gently presses a kiss to your cheek

He does look behind your back to make sure no one is there

“Here” You hand him a napkin from the kitchen counter only for him to raise a brow in confusion at you

“You have a squished berry on your cheek”

SHERLOCK HOLMES

Sherlock had mentioned to you earlier in the day that his day would be filled with jobs so he of course told you not to wait up for him

Of course you never listen to him

To be far as it was already late you didn’t think you’d have to wait long for his return.

You were so wrong

You decided to wait up holding the mistletoe above your head waiting

Sherlock was gone so long you literally fell asleep

Some time went by Sherlock was busy :(

Your eyes flutter open to see the room in complete darkness except for a candle keeping the room in a dimly light

“What’s this ?”

You jump up in shock to see the sight of Sherlock standing over you holding the mistletoe as if to inspect it

“Nothing !” You laugh, without hesitation you grab it right from the detective

But still Sherlock observed it, noticing immediately how hot your face became as you twiddled with it nervously

“Perhaps it should be lower.”

Next thing you know the mistletoe is laying on your stomach ;)

Let’s just say…Sherly knows where to place his kisses <3

VON HERDER

You didn’t have to search far when it came to looking for Herder

“Herder !!!” You called, of course not surprised to see the man hunched over working on something you could only guess was an invention or so

With his back facing you as he was sat in his chair you didn’t hesitate to make your presence more known

“Oh hello” He smirks at slight ticklish sensation of the mistletoe touching the tip of his nose

Still sitting, he looked straight up tilting his head back already anticipating exactly what you came for

He couldn’t help but chuckle as you rather hastily pressed a quick kiss against his lips

“Well thank you for my present, y/n” He stands up from his seat.

He could tell you were blushing

With his figure now standing in front of the table tho truly did begin to wonder what exactly he was working on

But with Herder you were never left wondering long

“Here’s your present !”

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw what was laid out on the table

“My very own gun !!!!”

#x reader #reader insert #anime and manga #william moriarty #moriarty anime #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x y/n #mtp william #william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x you #mtp william x reader #albert james moriarty x y/n #mtp albert #albert james moriarty x reader #mtp albert x reader #albert james moriarty #albert james moriarty x you #mtp sherlock x y/n #mtp sherlock holmes x reader #mtp x y/n #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukuko no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x y/n #yuumori x reader #yuukuko no moriarty x reader #louis james moriarty x reader #mtp louis #von herder x y/n #von herder x reader

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi! Do you think Armand was like ''Lestat Lestat Lestart' because he can see Louis hallucinating Lestat by reading his mind. It would be really awkward. Do you also think Louis can read Armand 's mind? As an old vampire he can probably block his thoughts but if I was Louis it would be weird for me to have my companion hiding his thoughts,like, do you have something to hide from me even after 77 years??

Sooooo....

Armand can definitely read Louis' mind, though it is debatable if he always does it. However, we have seen in the scene from August (at the Murder Mansion) that he does indeed do so, because he comments on Louis withholding and Claudia being able to mask her thoughts (contrary to Louis).

The thing about Armand and Lestat is... I mean you've seen the trailer. There's history. Armand... loves Lestat. Wants him. Desires him. Lestat rejected him, for reasons. Good reasons, and actually valid reasons. But... that hurt, of course. It's a complicated relationship.

(In the book Lestat goes to Armand to beg for Louis' life, and tells him about Louis, which makes Armand even more interested in Louis. We'll see how they spin it here.)

So along comes Louis, Lestat's lover (/partner / (arguably) husband) (and fledgling). But lover is way more significant here, because of the history Armand has with Lestat. Louis, and Claudia, who dared to hurt Lestat. (And which is ultimately why Claudia will die. Louis only does not because Armand (luckily) actually falls in love with him.)

Armand... is canonically into kinky shit. Not kidding. Cuck chairs, spanking. I believe "The Vampire Armand" is generally still listed as erotica.

So. With that in mind...

Armand didn't mind Louis envisioning / hallucinating imho. At first. He probably found it funny, stimulating, interesting, fascinating, arousing. Depending on the situation.

(For example here. That is in the bar. The bar we know Lestat "shows up in" as well from the BTS photo.)

He probably ... let's say supported those visions, too, given his gift to spellbind. Conjure illusions.

It must have been very entertaining - for a while. Even while having sex. (Can I have a vision-Lestat/Loumand threesome? Pretty please?!^^)

Eventually though... it must have started to grate. (Understandably so.)

That shot of him doing that "Lestat, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat" rant - that is in that apartment the interview was in. So we KNOW that Louis was still going on about Lestat at that time.

(credit to @virginiaisforvampires, sorry couldn't find it in the search)

Now, in the book there is this speech by Armand, and I can see that happening in the show, too:

"I used to believe you would get over it—that when the pain of all of it left you, you would grow warm again and filled with love, and filled with that wild and insatiable curiosity with which you first came to me, that inveterate conscience, and that hunger for knowledge that brought you all the way to Paris to my cell. I thought it was a part of you that couldn’t die. And I thought that when the pain was gone you would forgive me for what part I played in her death. She never loved you, you know. Not in the way that I loved you, and the way that you loved us both. I knew this! I understood it! And I believed I would gather you to me and hold you. And time would open to us, and we would be the teachers of one another. All the things that gave you happiness would give me happiness; and I would be the protector of your pain. My power would be your power. My strength the same. But you’re dead inside to me, you’re cold and beyond my reach! It is as if I’m not here, beside you. And, not being here with you, I have the dreadful feeling that I don’t exist at all. And you are as cold and distant from me as those strange modern paintings of lines and hard forms that I cannot love or comprehend, as alien as those hard mechanical sculptures of this age which have no human form. I shudder when I’m near you. I look into your eyes and my reflection isn’t there...."

He actually thought Louis would... get over it.

Over Claudia's death. Over what happened with Lestat.

In the books, Louis and Armand part then. We'll see how they spin it here. Louis says they've been together for 77 years, but that might be hyperbole - Jacob said that Louis chose that relationship "again", and that would then fit with canon once more.

(I personally think this is one of the good-byes, if not "the".)

But either way... it probably wasn't awkward at first. But it was beyond annoying eventually.

As per Louis reading Armand's mind: yes, if and when Armand permits. Armand is a very, very powerful mind and spell gift user. Louis would not be able to do so against his will.

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #armand #loumand #book quotes

[bunmurdock]

spotted pigeons and telepathic dog walkers | matt murdock x oralfixation!reader

summary: combined three inbox requests! (1) “sucking matt’s fingers for comfort” + (2) “having a bad day; matt lets you curl up in his lap while he whispers sweet nothings” + (3) “matt x oral fixation!reader; he would love how needy/clingy she is and oblige her with his fingers.” tags: humor, fluff, daddy!matt, use of a pet name (“pup”) word count: 918

“shh, there you go, sweetheart,” matt whispers. 

you're curled up in his lap. his thumb nudges its way between your parted lips, a gesture so deeply rooted in your shared moments of comfort. his skin tastes of the day's work, a hint of soap and something uniquely matt, and it grounds you, pulls you back from the edge of your anxieties.

“someone was a little firecracker today, hm? got all worked up, and now look at you, quiet as a mouse.” you suckle on his finger, cheeks puffing adorably. 

he laughs softly. “ah, there's that pout. knew it wouldn't be long.”

matt shifts, caressing your cheek with his other fingers. “let's see if we can't find a better use for that pout, hm?” his free arm reaching over to the nearby bluetooth speaker. soft, instrumental music fills the room.

“music to soothe the savage beast,” he quips, the laughter around his eyes crinkling with something more tender. he rocks you gently, the movement subtle but comforting. “or in our case, to soothe the sweetest pup in the world.”

~

“you know, i was thinking. maybe we should go birdwatching like you suggested. you and me, out in the park at dawn, and you can tell me when you see the rare... spotted pink pigeon.”

the absurdity of the statement, delivered with such faux seriousness, is enough to draw a reluctant smile from you.

“spotted pink pigeon doesn't exist, pup, but if it did, i’m sure it'd be as unique and lovely as you.”

he leans back against the couch, taking you with him. the question he's been pondering dances at the tip of his tongue, a gentle inquiry meant to bridge the silence that has settled between you.

“which, speaking of, we’ve been debating at the office. how would you feel about a little office mascot? foggy and kar—”

before he can continue, he feels your body tense slightly, the shift so subtle only someone as attuned to you as matt could notice. the question hangs in the air, unfinished, as he tunes into your reaction. there's a stillness about you, a hesitation that speaks volumes to him.

“ah,” he whispers, a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head. “not the time for decisions, huh? that's okay. let's get your mind off of things.”

he shifts slightly, making sure you're nestled comfortably against him. 

“so. you’re not going to believe this. today, foggy brought in this client—mr. boetticher. a guy who claims he's developed a 'revolutionary' method to walk dogs telepathically. says he can control up to ten dogs at a time with just his mind.”

“and karen decided we should test this guy's claim. so, there we were, in the middle of central park, with foggy holding onto five leashes, more scared than i've ever seen him, and this guy concentrating so hard i thought he might burst a blood vessel.”

“of course, nothing happened. well, nothing except for the dogs deciding it was the perfect time to chase after a squirrel, taking foggy on a little unexpected adventure.”

matt pauses, feeling the vibrations of your giggles against his chest. “and then later, there's frank castle,” he continues, the smile evident in his voice. “dropped by today. turns out he has a soft spot for old jazz records,” he smirks. “walked in on him and karen having an impromptu dance session in the middle of the office.” 

“really?” you murmur around his thumb, eyes wide.

“mhm. when i walked in, never seen someone jump up so fast. tried to act all tough, like he hadn’t just been serenading karen with louis armstrong's greatest hits.”

your giggle fills the room, warm and hearty, as he continues. “but the highlight of the day? the office itself. ever since we moved to the new place, it's been one adventure after another. and today was no exception.”

“we've been dealing with this... let's call it a 'haunted' coffee machine. turns out, foggy was convinced it had a mind of its own. would randomly start brewing in the middle of meetings.”

you let out a soft snort, the image of foggy arguing with a coffee machine too vivid in your imagination.

“so today, karen had enough. she declared war on the coffee machine. it was a scene to behold, pup. karen, armed with the user manual, foggy providing moral support from a safe distance, and me, well, enjoying the show.”

your laughter is muffled against his chest, the silly image of the trio taking on an inanimate object a welcome distraction. 

“guess what?” matt's voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “took them three days to figure out foggy had been accidentally hitting the delayed start button with his elbow every time he leaned on the counter.”

your laughter bubbles up again, filling the room with warmth, and a look of pure fondness crosses matt’s face, a look reserved only for you. 

“but you know, the best part of today?” he continues, “was coming back to you, knowing that no matter how crazy the day gets, i've got a crazier little pup waiting for me—”

you bite down on his finger.

“ouch! alright alright. ah—no teeth.”

~

“so, how about we plan a day out? just you and me,” he teases gently, tilting your chin up to meet his smile with one of your own—even if he can’t see it, he feels it. “think of it as our little adventure, away from the stress and chaos. what do you say, pup?”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #bun’s

[valentinetypewriter]

Me and My Husband

This includes casting, chapter masterlist and summary

Sirius Black x Remus lupin x reader

My Main masterlist

this will also be posted on ao3 - a link to the fic

Chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

Summary

Sirius Black III the usually flirtatious boy had become completely infatuated with someone he knew he could never have, but tied to someone he never thought he could love.

Remus john lupin the self hating Werewolf who doesn't believe he's worth loving, but his heart aches for two people who he thinks he doesn't deserve

Y/n l/n has hated love ever since she was young, a pure-blood family like hers doesn't get love, they only have to keep their blood pure. But maybe she could make something good out of this

Set during the marauders 7th year and onwards, canon divergent, just changing a few things up to make the fic work a bit better. This fic will be filled with unnecessary angst and drama because I'm a horrible person

Casting

Casting will include movies/shows for a more specific look for major character

Ben Barnes as Sirius Black (Dorian grey)

Andrew Garfield as Remus lupin (Never let me go) and yes this is exactly how I imagine remus to act/talk - A link for a YouTube video since clips of his character are hard to find

Aaron Taylor Johnson as James Potter (kick-ass / Nowhere boy)

Dane dehaan as Peter pettigrew (Kill your darlings)

Timothée Chalamet as Regulus Black

David Tennant as Barty Crouch Jr

Maxence Danet-Fauvel as Evan Rosier

Supporting cast

Sophie skelton as Lily Evans

Alicia Vikander as Marlene McKinnon

Sofia Bryant as Mary McDonald

Louis Garrel as Severus Snape

#harry potter #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #the marauders era #remus lupin x sirius black #wolfstar #peter pettigrew #lily evans #severus snape #slow burn #angst #lots of angst #jegulus #james potter x regulus black #eventual smut #eventual relationship #arranged marriage #pureblood culture #marauders era #marauders era fic #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #wolfstar x reader #sirius black x y/n #remus lupin x y/n #Sirius Black x reader x remus lupin

[hldailyupdate]

“[reads a fan’s sign] Is it actually Niall’s birthday?! Just don’t share this and I can probably just wish him a happy birthday and act like I knew it all along!

Who loves Faith In The Future, c’mon! [crowd screams] There’s been something incredibly special about touring this record, these songs mean the fucking world to me, I don’t get to make those songs without a fanbase that I know are gonna listen, I don’t get to do these shows if you guys don’t turn up, so thank you for making incredible experiences for me all over the fucking world.

Ey, I’ll be looking out! No one share that video, [of him realising it is Niall’s birthday] I can probably get away with this! This is Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy!”

-Louis being reminded it's Niall's birthday from a fan and making a joke about the fans at the show not spreading that he forgot Niall's birthday so he could get away with pretending like he was just late.

Faith In The Future World Tour: Vienna. (13 September 2023)

#louis tomlinson #louis update #fitf world tour #fitf world tour: vienna #niall horan #quote #september 2023

[lecsainz]

PICTURES

parings: harry styles x actress!reader

request: Hey, saw u write for Harry Styles! Can u do a oneshot where y/n's parents r famous actors, she n Harry got somethin' goin' on but ain't makin' it official. He's on the Take Me Home tour when she calls him to sort things out 'cause paparazzi pics with other girls surfaced, but he didn't actually cheat.

authors note: OMG haven't written anything about harry in years, like seriously, this brought back sooo many memories 😭

☆. . . masterlist !

Y/N Aniston was the daughter of a renowned actress, yes, Jennifer Aniston herself. She grew up with the media at her feet, and just like her mother, she chose to follow a career in acting. Little did she know that due to her fame, she would end up meeting a singer from one of the biggest boy bands of 2013, who would bring her a lot of headaches.

Harry and Y/N crossed paths during the VMAs, in line for the bathroom. They don't remember when exactly, but at some point during the night, they found themselves in her limousine, having a quickie. However, that quick encounter became a regular thing whenever they met up.

And Y/N developed feelings for the green-eyed boy. She liked him a lot. Maybe she even loved him.

Harry had embarked on the Take Me Home tour, and some photos of him with other girls had been taken by paparazzi. Even though they weren't officially an item, her heart shattered nonetheless. Those pictures felt like daggers to her heart, and they hurt like hell.

And here she was, sitting on her bed, heart almost racing out of her chest, waiting for Harry to appear on the screen.

"Y/N!" Harry's face popped up on the screen, lying on the tour bus bed with a sleepy yet adoring smile.

She managed a small smile, her nerves getting the best of her. "Hey, Harry."

His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. "Missed you."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Despite everything, the sound of those three simple words from him still had a powerful effect on her.

"Missed you too," she admitted, her voice soft.

They talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as naturally as it always did between them. But as the minutes ticked by, Y/N knew she couldn't avoid the elephant in the room any longer.

"Harry, about those pictures..." she trailed off, her heart racing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I'm so sorry you had to see those."

She looked down, feeling a mix of emotions. "It's just... hard, you know?"

Harry's expression softened. "I know, love. They're not what they seem."

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, they're not real," he confessed, his voice earnest. "It's all a publicity stunt, arranged by Simon."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why?"

"He wants to maintain that image, make me appear as the 'ladies' man' for the fans," Harry explained, frustration evident in his voice. "But it's all a facade. I hate it."

Y/N felt a mix of relief and anger. Relief that the pictures weren't real, and anger that she had been hurt by something so manufactured.

"I had no idea," she admitted, her voice softer now.

Harry's eyes bore into hers. "Y/N, you know I care about you, right?"

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I do."

"I'm not looking for meaningless flings, Y/N," he said, his voice determined. "I want something real."

She felt her heart race, hope stirring within her. "Harry..."

Just then, the atmosphere on the tour bus shifted as the other members of One Direction appeared on the screen, grinning widely.

"Hey, is that Y/N?" Niall's voice chimed in.

"Y/N!" Louis exclaimed, waving enthusiastically.

“Our favorite girl!" Zayn added.

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with fondness for the boys. "Hi, guys! I miss you all."

"We miss you too!" Niall exclaimed.

Y/N's cheeks turned slightly pink as she greeted the rest of the band. She had known them for a while now, having met them through Harry. They had always been incredibly welcoming and friendly towards her.

"Long time no see," Liam said with a warm smile. "How've you been?"

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, you know, just taking over the world."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "As if she hasn't already."

Zayn smirked. "You're in good company, Y/N."

Niall leaned in closer to the camera. "Harry talks about you all the time."

Y/N shot Harry a teasing look. "Oh, really? What kind of things does he say?"

Harry's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Just good things."

Louis wiggled his eyebrows. "We can all tell he's smitten."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the guys. She had seen them at their goofiest and most genuine moments, and she was grateful for the bond they shared.

"Well, Y/N, if Harry doesn't treat you right, you know where to find us," Zayn said with a wink.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Zayn. I'll keep that in mind."

"We saw those pictures, by the way," Louis said, his tone slightly teasing.

Y/N's cheeks flushed, but she managed a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I guess they're making quite a buzz."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Don't take those too seriously. They're just playing with ya."

"Yeah, Simon probably thought it was good for marketing," Liam added.

Zayn nodded. "It's all part of the game."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, feeling their genuine support. "Thanks, guys. It's just been a bit overwhelming."

"We know, love," Louis said, his eyes softening. "But remember, you're stronger than the headlines."

Zayn chimed in. "Harry's been a mess ever since those pictures surfaced."

Louis nodded. "Yeah, he's been moping around like a lost puppy."

Y/N's lips curved into a grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. Your words mean a lot to me."

"Anytime, Y/N," Niall grinned. "Now, you make sure to keep our Harry in line, okay?"

Zayn chuckled. "Yeah, we can't have him causing any more trouble."

Harry pouted playfully. "Hey, I'm a changed man."

"Sure you are," Louis quipped, earning a laugh from everyone.

Harry leaned closer to the camera, his voice soft. "They adore you, you know."

Y/N's smile grew warmer. "I can tell. And I adore them too."

The connection was beginning to falter, the image on the screen slightly pixelated as Harry's voice crackled. "I wish I could hear your laugh properly right now."

Y/N chuckled, the sound distorted by the poor signal. "We'll have to fix that soon."

Harry's expression turned more serious. "Y/N, I've been thinking... I want to talk about this face-to-face. This distance between us, it's not fair."

Her heart skipped a beat, hope and apprehension mingling in her chest. "Harry..."

"I mean it," he said with determination. "I want to have an honest conversation, in person. No screens, no miles between us."

Y/N nodded, her own resolve strengthening. "Okay, Harry. When?"

"I'll be back in a few weeks," he replied. "After this leg of the tour. We can find a place to meet up."

She felt a mixture of emotions, excitement and nerves intermingling. "I look forward to it."

"I do too," Harry said softly. "I want us to have a proper conversation, Y/N. No misunderstandings, no miscommunications."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with anticipation. "I want that too."

As the signal continued to weaken, Harry's voice grew fainter. "I'll see you soon, Y/N."

"Can't wait," she whispered, her voice barely reaching him.

And then, with a final wave and a promise in their eyes, the call disconnected, leaving Y/N with a renewed sense of hope and a countdown to the day when they would bridge the physical and emotional distance that had grown between them.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #frat boy harry x reader #frat boy harry #one direction #one direction x reader #one direction x oc #one direction x you #one direction x y/n