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#and that what makes charles so fascinating

divinekangaroo · 1 month

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a home painted bright with blood and thorns - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | (COMPLETE)

After the S4-S6 election/marriage, pre-S5. Some months into Tommy and Lizzie's marriage.

This frequently absent father and husband considers that he often does his best work in extreme circumstances: time pressure, resource constraints, situational uncertainty, high stakes, and gross emotional wounding. He knows what to do, doesn't he?

No matter what sort of internal spiralling disaster cascade he's busily ignoring inside. No matter what badly considered spur of the moment decisions he makes to get through the moment that he might pay for later. No matter what—

Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Charles Shelby, Ruby Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Frances, Various Shelby Household Maids, Charles Strong, Cyril the Dog, | Domesticity, Intimacy, Menstruation, Bodily Fluids, Bodily Solids, Bodily Functions, Babies, Lactation, Mental Health Issues, Repression, Abusive Families (Past), Attempts at Communicating, Trying Hard, Family Trauma, Family Feels, Nail-Biting, Household Dynamics, Absent Father, Avoidance, Deflection, Trying Sooooooooooo Hard, Distress, Comfort Sex, Dysfunctional Family, Contraception, Spiralling, Intrusive Thoughs, Mild Paranoia, Grief, The Lasting Legacy of Catholicism, Fear of Mental Illness

#peaky blinders #my writing #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy x lizzie #charles shelby #ruby shelby #arthur shelby #Guest Starring the Ghosts Of (Mrs Shelby)(Alfie Solomons)(Grace Shelby)(all them other hauntings on the January)#the many times i weave sabini's assault into things; of all the horrible matters inflicted on tommy it's *that* one which burns me #i think it's because S2 is where the things done to him and that he is forced to do collapse the possibility of his recovery #so it's almost as if childhood was being forced to line up for war; wwi was being forced to climb the cliff;#s2 is where he's kicked off the cliff despite him clinging on all season; then it's all hitting the rocks on the way down from then #this was a fascinating writing experience because i handwrote it all first in one week late Feb then did a type-up and detailed edit #still contemplating what this experience has taught me about writing mediums/forms #certainly i could not do it with longer chapters but i *could* do it with a longer story #seems 2500 words makes a decent scene/chapter size of managable editability on a progressive basis #i know lots of fellow writers do the 'why do you talk so much about wordcount just write' but when time is limited the size/format-#-significantly impacts my ability to be productive. like the difference between doing a full scale wall mural versus a handsketch i need to #-match the form to the available window to produce the form #(remembering that one time i did a full wall mural: duration measured by all 6 seasons of X-Files running in the background whilst doing it

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charlosmybelovd · 2 years

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Also carlos always spends the whole time doing two things:

- praising charles

- letting charles do whatever he wants

#fascinating #how a man can be so bossy without even trying #making them all doing what he wants #King Charles #but he’s also a bottom #don’t forget #charles leclerc #charlos

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serawritesthings · 4 months

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hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in.

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man.

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth.

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger.

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject.

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.”

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll.

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door.

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur.

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose.

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look.

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure.

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach.

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn.

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West.

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours.

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing.

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff.

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height.

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much.

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?”

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work.

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words.

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled.

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.”

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving.

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway.

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite.

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby.

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people.

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears.

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable.

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes.

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls.

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-”

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did.

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture.

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being.

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle.

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him.

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips.

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something.

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm.

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch.

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.”

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking.

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck.

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own.

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him.

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh.

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night.

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval.

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions.

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.”

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him.

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck.

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else.

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you.

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control.

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements.

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before.

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face.

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly.

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you.

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come.

“Are you jealous of Charles?”

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled.

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.”

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him.

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption smut #red dead smut

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pucksandpower · 7 months

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Heyyyyy how are you? Hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself. How is medical school hope you're doing good. So I was thinking about the grid kids series and a scenario appeared in my head. So basically the baby still a toddler say a swear word and when asked who taught her that she just tell she heard that from Yuki, but in reality it was the grid kids that braided her with candy. It's just so funny to me

Grid Kids: Potty Mouth

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids help expand their sister’s vocabulary in interesting ways

Series Masterlist

It’s a lazy Saturday morning and you’re making breakfast. Your toddler daughter is happily perched on Sebastian’s lap at the kitchen island, babbling about anything and everything while he nods along seriously.

The grid kids lounge around, still half-asleep. Game night ran late, fueled by one too many Red Bulls and everyone’s chronic competitiveness.

Charles yawns loudly. “I don’t know how she has so much energy already.”

“Right?” Lando grumbles. “It should be illegal to be awake before 10 am on weekends.”

Max stumbles to the coffee maker, nearly tripping over George who’s fallen back asleep on the floor. Mick and Lance are slumped together on the couch, bleary-eyes barely open.

As you finish cooking, you turn to your daughter. “Okay sweetie, breakfast is ready!”

She grins, kicking her little legs excitedly. As Sebastian goes to lift her into the highchair, she suddenly shrieks “FUCK!”

A stunned silence descends on the room. Eight heads swivel towards the little girl, eyes wide. Sebastian and you exchange horrified looks.

“Where did you learn that word?” You ask gently.

She blinks up at you innocently. “Yuki said it!”

The grid kids practically dive over each other to appear shocked and appalled.

“Yuki? Using language like that?” George exclaims.

“How disgraceful!” Max adds. “We’ll be having a stern talking to with him about this.”

You raise an eyebrow at them.

Something seems … off.

Sebastian kneels to your daughter’s level. “Honigbienchen, are you sure Yuki said that? Not one of your brothers?”

She nods vigorously. “Yuki said it when we were playing race cars!”

The boys subtly sigh in relief.

Crisis averted.

Or so they think.

“You know, I don’t recall Yuki having a chance to play with you recently,” you say slowly.

A tense pause.

Sideways glances are exchanged.

The grid kids develop a sudden fascination with the ceiling.

“Alright boys, enough playing dumb. Who taught her the swear word?” Sebastian asks, his Dad Voice™ making them squirm.

“It was Max!”

“It was Charles!”

“It was Lando!”

“It was Lance!”

“It was George!”

“It was Mick!”

They all exclaim in unison, pointing fingers.

A fierce blame game erupts as their bickering intensifies to chaos.

“Enough!” You shout over the noise.

The six drivers fall silent, heads hanging guiltily.

You sigh, lifting your daughter into her highchair. “We’re very disappointed in all of you. You know she’s at the stage where she repeats everything she hears.”

“We’re sorry,” Mick says quietly. “We should have been more responsible.” The others nod, mumbling apologies.

“And we’re sorry we made you say it was Yuki, munchkin,” Lance adds. “We just didn’t want Mom and Dad to be mad at us.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “Lying makes it worse. But we know you didn’t mean any harm.”

“Tell you what,” you offer. “Whoever teaches her the most educational words this week is forgiven. Good, clean words only!”

The boys’ faces light up. Charles grabs a notepad and they huddle together, beginning to strategize.

You can’t help but smile.

Crisis averted.

***

What follows is a week of mayhem.

“Look Lando, it’s an AARDVARK!” George points excitedly at a cartoon aardvark in a book. “Aardvark starts with A!”

Lando nods seriously. “Aardvark. Aaaaardvark.”

Your daughter claps her little hands. “Aawdvawk!”

The boys high-five. One point for them.

Later, Max drives his toy model RB22 towards her. “Vroom vroom! This is a race car! It has DRS. Can you say drag reduction system?”

She scrunches her nose. “Dwag wedection system!”

“Nice one!” Lance whispers. Max grins, ruffling your daughter’s hair smugly.

At dinner, Charles scans his food. “Mmm, broccoli! This is BROCCOLI!” He holds up a roasted floret. “Can you try and say it?”

“Bwock-lee!” Your daughter squeals through a mouthful of the vegetable. Charles pumps his fist.

Mick doesn’t waste time and pulls out a small globe as soon as she finishes eating, pointing at a certain country. “Look! It’s Germany! That’s where Papa and I come from. Can you say Germany?”

Your daughter scrunches her face in concentration. “Ger...mummy?”

Mick chuckles, “Close enough!”

Sebastian winks at you with a smirk, “Well Mummy sure did conquer Germany, didn’t she?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow, “If by Germany you mean one particularly sexy German driver, then yes, I guess I did.” The grid kids pretend to gag.

Too bad. You’ll take the payback any way you can.

This continues for days. Meal times become vocabulary lessons, walks around the house are accompanied by exaggerated pointing at objects. Books are read with ridiculous enthusiasm, animal noises amplified.

You and Sebastian exchange amused looks as the boys vie for your daughter’s attention, each hoping to teach her the most complex word or phrase. Their efforts have become less about earning forgiveness and more about one-upping each other.

By the end of the week, her vocabulary has expanded exponentially. The boys even taught themselves some new words in the process.

As the boys argue over who should be declared the winner during dinner the following Saturday, Sebastian whistles loudly. “Enough! You all went above and beyond this week with her.”

You smile. “You’re all forgiven. And I think we can thank you for increasing her word bank more in a week than months of normal teaching.”

They cheer, exchanging pleased grins.

You lean down to your daughter’s level. “Now, can we agree no more bad words?”

She nods seriously. “No fuck!”

The room descends into chaos once again.

***

It’s race day and the paddock is hectic as usual. You and Sebastian finally relented and brought your daughter along after weeks of nonstop begging from the grid kids to have their sister on the sideline cheering for them.

As you walk through the pit lane, she squeals and points. “Max! Lando! Chawles! Lance! Mick! Geowge!”

The boys grin, waving enthusiastically as they rush to crowd around her, cooing over how big she’s gotten in the few days they haven’t seen her while she giggles and soaks up the attention.

Nearby, Yuki is chatting with his trainer. Your daughter tugs Sebastian’s hand and skips over to him. “Yuki! Hi Yuki!”

Yuki turns, smiling. “Hi, o-joh-chan! Excited for the race?”

She nods, pigtails bouncing. As Yuki leans down to chat with her, a two-way radio falls off a passing golf cart, narrowly missing his foot.

“Ah shit!” He exclaims before freezing. Your daughter’s eyes go wide. The grid kids stiffen, bracing themselves.

Yuki stares at you and Sebastian in horror, realizing his mistake. “Oops! Uh, I mean ... shoot!”

But it’s too late. A devilish grin spreads across your daughter’s face.

This is her moment.

“SHIT!” She shouts gleefully.

Yuki turns bright red as laughter erupts around him. “I am so sorry!” He sputters. “I didn’t mean to—”

Sebastian just chuckles, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we know it was an accident.”

Your daughter is thrilled with this new word she can very clearly enunciate. She spots two team principals across the paddock.

“Chwistian! Shit!” She yells. “Toto! Shiiit!”

Christian trips over his own feet. Toto turns an alarming shade of splotchy red but can’t help laughing. You and Sebastian hurry over, trying to shush her excited swearing.

The grid kids are crying with laughter. Charles is wheezing. “This is even better than I imagined!”

Max high-fives your daughter. “That’s my girl! You tell them!”

You shoot him a warning look and he gives you an innocent grin. Sebastian scoops up your still-cursing daughter, bouncing her gently. “Alright sweetie, I think that’s enough for today.”

Her lip wobbles. “But it’s fun, Papa.”

The boys are zero help, doubled over cackling. Yuki still looks mortified.

Sebastian kisses your daughter’s forehead, stifling a grin. “I know but let’s keep the excitement PG for now, okay? You can say those words when you’re a grown up too.”

You take her little hand, ready to steer her away before she can scar any more eardrums. As you walk off, she peeks over Sebastian’s shoulder and yells one last farewell.

“Bye Yuki! SHIIIT!”

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twobluejeans · 9 months

Text

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 4: emo ponytail girl part 3: DUPEE, part 2: wtf does ET know?, part 1: don’t start

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 3! thank u guys so much for the love on part 1 & 2. IM SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU ALL IN SUSPENSE BUT IM BACK AND buckle up for some more drama (YASS) and a lot of tswift references 🫶

INSTAGRAM, (july 3)

liked by honeybagerdr, karmaleclerc, and 244,523 others

c16daily Charles seen entering and leaving a restaurant with mysterious girl last night in monaco via @legrandprixclub

View all 33 comments

gaslyleclerc WHO THE FUCK

judeslvr i’m so confused it hasn’t even been a full week??

sharlleclerc i can’t keep defending u man if you keep doing bs like this😭😭

ctrly/n oh wow

s1ut4formula1 copy of y/n

bejeweled.y/n @s1ut4formula1 don’t do y/n like that.

veerstappenmaxemilian someone give me her @ right NEOWW

bbynoriss @veerstappenmaxemilian ON IT

TWITTER,

INSTAGRAM, (stories)

yourinstagram 37m

viewed by chrisevans, sabrinacarpenter, and 567,431 others

yourinstagram (story) 25m

viewed by lewishamilton, landonoriss, and 534,133 others

INSTAGRAM,

liked by latenovembery/n, bloodlinegrande, and 102,345 others

y/nflorals MORE OF Y/N AND FATHER NANDO EATING DINNER AT A RESTAURANT LAST NIGHT IN LONDON.

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444mercedes Y/N’S FERNANDO ALONSO’S DAUGHTER???? WHAT SINCE WHEN??

jpgmacvesstap @444mercedes babe ur so late 😭

lance.strollll no wonder why y/n is so pretty 💀

eversincey/n @444mercedes their relationship is v private. y/n took in her mothers maiden name so that the media wouldn’t connect the two. it’s rare when we see them together bc of their busy lives but yeah i was shocked when i found out too

voguey/n IN FATHER NANDO WE TRUST 🛐

alonsof1 judging by his face ik she dropped some really good tea

missamericanay/n id honestly be shitting my pants if i was charles knowing my ex’s father is essentially my coworker 😭

INSTAGRAM, (stories)

yourinstagram 10m

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INSTAGRAM,

liked by y/nsonlyangels_, sweetdispositionleclerc, and 567 others

f1paddlockupdates carlos, lando, and daniel have unfollowed charles on instagram.

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ferraribabe i just checked and lance stroll, george russell, and fernando unfollowed him as well 🧍🏽‍♀️

suffering_ferrarifan damn what did homeboy do 😭😭

y/nsredscarf @suffering_ferrarifan cheat obviously

suffering_ferrarifan @y/nsredscarf we literally don’t know that. not believing anything until it comes from y/n or charles themselves 🤷‍♀️

INSTAGRAM,

ally’s radio 📻: SO YEAH. this was a little filler but might be dropping part 4 later on today to make up for the time i’ve been gone! thanks so much for the love! so fascinating n cool to hear ur ideas and feedback, v much appreciated. what r our thoughts??

taglist🦢🪩: @incoherenciass @dakotali @405rry @topaz125 @sassyheroneckgiant @hevburn @itsmytimetoodream @ivegotparticulartaste @crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010 @scenesofobx @christinabae @magical-spit @dessxoxsworld @myareadsbooks @honethatty12 @hopefulinlove @diasnohibng @gentlemonsterjennie1 @hummusxx @eugene-emt-roe @taestrwbrry @pejarma @cxcewg @chimchimjiminie16 @glow-ish

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inc-ch-ident · 2 months

Text

Baby princess| F1

Paring: F1 drivers x child!Wolff!reader

Warning: Google translator.

Trigger: None

Genre: Fluff.

Prompts: None.

Summary: Y/n Wolff, the two-year-old daughter of Toto and Susie Wolff and the Formula 1 princess.

Request form -> here

Masterlist

Toto nods, knowing better than to argue. The silent moment is interrupted by the sound of a baby crying from behind. He turn to see a mechanic struggling to soothe a sobbing one-year-old held tightly in his arms.

"I'm so sorry to bother you but she just won't stop crying. I think she wants her Dad." the mechanic said, bouncing the crying girl.

Toto grins and takes the toddler in his arms, gently bouncing her up and down until her cries soften to sniffles. The little girl has big brown eyes and wisps of dark hair, instantly calmed by her father's touch.

"There now darling, it's alright. Daddy is right here." Toto whispered soothingly as George made silly faces to make her laugh and giggle as she reached for him.

George takes the little girl from Toto after having permission to carry her, holding her close. Y/n beams, her chubby hands grabbing at George's cheeks.

"Uncle Gorgie" Y/n says, placing her head on his shoulder as she watches her father talk with people. George didn't correct her words since he grew fondly at how she said his name wrong, basically taking it as a nickname.

Some team chuckles adoringly at Y/n and the interaction between her and George. Y/n smiles shyly at all the attention, content now in George's safe embrace. It's clear racing is truly in her blood.

The Formula 1 practice sessions are in full swing around the historic Silverstone track. In the McLaren Racing garage, one-year-old Y/n watches enthralled as Oscar and Lando prepare for their practice qualifying laps as Y/n toddles around, getting underfoot but laughing with glee. Her bright eyes follow every move, hoping to learn all she can.

Oscar the Lando ruffles Y/n's hair before making their way to the waiting MCL60 and MCL38. Y/n furiously waves to them from Zak's arms, earning an affectionate wave from them as they drive out onto the track. Zak holds Y/n tightly, pointing out to the circuit where his drivers will be racing.

"There uncles go, sweetheart. Watch how smooth and fast they drive. One day that could be you out there." Zak said, pointing at the two cars on track.

Y/n smiles excitedly, bouncing on Zak's hip. For a one-year-old, she seems to understand perfectly what a privilege it is to see the sport her parents live for up close. She watches the cars zipping around the track with utter fascination as if absorbing every detail. It's clear racing is already in her very soul.

The moment Toto walks into the paddock, the camera turns to him as he holds his two-year-old daughter in his arms.

Y/n hid her face on her father's neck, flustered at the attention towards them but the moment Toto placed her down. She runs toward George who's crouching down with his arms wide open.

"Hey, princess." Lewis greets her beside George as he lifts her and walks beside Toto to the Mercedes garage.

After a time of them taking and discussing things, Charles walks up to them smiling.

"Mind if I borrow her for a moment?" Charles asked as he looked at Toto who nodded at him.

"Just bring her back in one piece and take care of her," Toto said, placing a kiss on Y/n's forehead as George and Lew ruffled her hair before handing her to Charles who happily took her.

Y/n waves goodbye at them as Charles brings her with him to the Ferrari garage. The moment Carlos saw them, he beamed happily, smiling as he walked up to them.

"Hey, princess. Is Charles touring you around the garage again?" Carlos ruffles Y/n hair gently. She looked at Charles questioningly as he chuckled at her face.

"Yeah," Charles said, fixing up Y/n hair. As they walked around with some people stopping what they were doing just to say hi or wave greetings at Y/n.

Both Ferrari drivers reluctantly bring Y/n back to Toto since they need to get ready for the race. Y/n smiled at the sight of her father, holding her hands out for him.

Toto smiles back at her as he takes her from Charles, thanking them for bringing her back and taking care of her.

"No need to thank us. We grew quite fondly of her." Charles said and Carlos nodded as Toto smiled at his words as the two drivers walked out of the Mercedes garage.

Y/n tried to stay awake to watch the race but in the end, she ended up sleeping in her father's arms.

She woke up with the race already ended but she was also in Max's arms in Redbull's garage. She smiles sleepily at him, snuggling more as she hears Daniel and Max talking.

"The paddock princess is finally awake." Daniel playfully said as he played with her hair. She just hum at him, clunching Max suit.

"Well, someone still sleepy." Lando said as he walk up at them and see Y/n on Max lap.

"Where's daddy?" Y/n mumble soft, rubbing her eyes as she look around.

"He's in his office doing something," Max explains, helping her sit up straight.

"Oh." She nodded and just lay back on Max's chest as the three chuckled at her.

"But, at least you get to spend time with us right?" Daniel poked and tickled her, making her giggle as she tried to move away. Her laugh filling the garage as everyone smiles at the interaction between them.

Toto smiled at the sight as he walked into the garage, nodding at Christian before walking up to them. Probably the only reason Christian and Toto tolerate each other is because of Y/n since Christian grew fondly of the young Wolff.

"Daddy!" Y/n squeal at him, climbing off Max lap and running toward Toto, who hugged her and pick her up.

"Hey, sweetheart. Thanks for watching over her." Toto looked at the three drivers with gratitude.

"It's fine. We'll look after her anytime." Max said, smiling at him as Lando and Daniel nodded.

"I know. That's why, I trust her with you all." Toto told him, glancing at Lando and Daniel.

"Say bye-bye, sweetheart," Toto whispered to Y/n as she nodded and waved her little hand.

"Bye-bye." She said softly, looking at everyone as they smiled at her and waved their hands.

"See ya next time, princess!"

"Bye, n/n," Daniel and Lando said, tickling her a little before walking out of the garage.

"Bye, y/n" Max smiles at her as she and Toto leave the garage. The other drivers even say bye to her as they walk past them not before either ruffling her hair or tickling her.

Toto smiles softly, rubbing Y/n's back. He can already imagine Y/n following in his footsteps one day. Everyone can see, how she's so interested in racing at her age. For now, F1 drivers and everyone will enjoy sharing and teaching the racing world to Y/n. This is only the beginning of Y/n's life as Formula 1's princess.

liked by landonorris, susie_wolff, carlossainz55, and 940,498 others!

F1NEWS: Pictures taken with the princess and a few drivers taking care of her earlier, before and after the race. So cute 🥰

Tagged: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen, georgerussell1 and danielricciardo

user6: Awwww 😍

user4: how bad I wanna be in their position and take care of y/n...

user1: you're not the only one..

user3: ^

user8: ^

user90: ^

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chelshiart · 3 months

Text

shout out to my siblings for being tolkien-nerds because they make it possible for me, a dwj-nerd, to photobomb their lego rivendell set <3

context of dwj's history with tolkien:

"Tolkien was a different matter. He was just a kind of eminence grise and a legend. You couldn’t hear him lecture. He worked at not letting you hear, because he wanted to go away and finish writing The Lord of the Rings. So he had the very smallest lecture room. First of all it was packed out, so he spoke with his back to the audience and mumbling. Unfortunately he was talking about - meditating on, really - what a plot is like and how it mutates into other plots, and this I found so fascinating that I went back the next week as did one other person. And this meant that he couldn’t stop lecturing and still get the money, which apparently in those days you could if no one turned up - it was a dreadful racket, really. He could have given just the one lecture and then been paid for a term if we’d all stayed away."

(Quoted from “Interview with Diana Wynne Jones, 22 March 2001, conducted by Charles Butler.” Page 170 in Diana Wynne Jones: An Exciting and Exacting Wisdom, by Teya Rosenberg et al. Peter Lang Publishing, 2002.)

(source)

#diana wynne jones #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings #howl's moving castle #lotr #studio ghibli #howl jenkins pendragon #sophie hatter #frodo baggins #aragorn son of arathorn #legolas greenleaf #gimli son of gloin #calcifer #also I got to participate in this build! the first time i actually played with lego!!#i did bilbo's tower to the side - those statues were tons of fun

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i9messi · 10 months

Text

The three of us — Charles Leclerc

Charles is happy to spend his day with you and his daughter.

Word count — 845

charles’ masterlist

Charles was fascinated and terrified. He had been anxious about his parenting skills and scared that he might be completely unprepared. But when the baby arrived, it was as if everything had fit into place. It was all of a sudden, one day he was kissing your belly and talking to his future daughter, and the next day, he was holding the beautiful baby in his arms. Now every time he saw the newborn, he couldn’t stop smiling. It was a product of the love that you and he had.

"She really looks like you." he said, coming closer to where you and the baby were. His daughter had her eyes closed and was fast asleep.

"Are you joking? She looks too much like you. She’ll want to drive cars anytime."

He smiled, "Well, daddy won’t let her. She’s my princess and driving cars is dangerous for her."

You smiled at his concern. The truth is that Charles was overly protective of his daughter. Every time he heard the little baby crying, he was desperate to know what was wrong. He wanted to protect the baby from the dangers of the world and the girl was only a month old. She was his universe.

"Maybe she wants to follow your steps, I’m just saying."

You looked at your husband and extended your hand, to hold his. His eyes settled on the beautiful ring on your finger. The three of you were everything to him, his little family.

"You know you made me the happiest man in the world, belle?"

"Oh, Charles. And you made me the happiest woman in the world."

Ever since Charles found out that you were pregnant, he hadn’t taken off for a second on your side, except for the races and the trips he had to make for work, he avoided spending more than ten minutes apart from you. Knowing you were carrying his child made him happy, and since he found out, his days had changed like never before.

Both shared a moment of tranquility, sitting near the crib, without hearing any crying. But just minutes later, the baby woke up and looked at her father. The girl smiled as never before.

"She’s a daddy’s girl." you didn’t have to correct him, because Charles was right. The girl behaved differently in her father’s presence. It didn’t matter that you carried her for nine months in your belly, she was a traitor, smiling every time her dad was around.

Charles approached the baby and held her. Watching your husband hold your daughter made you feel like you had everything.

"I want another." you joked, "Better be a boy, so I don’t feel excluded."

"Well, we can have another."

"I’m not talking seriously, Charles. She’s too young and we need to focus on her."

"Fine, when she grows up a little more, we can give her a brother. I just want the best for my two girls."

Charles being a father and an excellent husband was something you had never prepared for and yet, you loved the result. You were a lucky woman.

"I’m hungry, will you stay with her for a moment?"

Charles nodded and spoke to the little baby. "Mommy’s going to make us something to eat, she’s a great cook."

You left them alone, with an attentive ear in case they needed your help. You approached the kitchen and began to prepare something to eat. It was still early, so you thought you’d make some strawberries and cream. It was one of your favorite pregnant desserts and you’d gotten used to eating it almost every day. You were just finishing mixing the ingredients, when you heard a few steps approaching you. Charles was without shirt, something had happened because a minute before he was still fully dressed. The baby was in his arms.

"Aren’t you gonna put cheese on it or something?"

"I’m not pregnant anymore, I promise I won’t make any strange mix."

Charles, you and the baby walked to the living room, where you sat on the couch. He left the baby well settled on the cushions and started eating strawberries with cream. The driver put on a children's music background and the baby was calm next to you. While both of you were eating, your husband would steal some kisses from you and every time the baby wanted something, he would come over to talk to her.

"You’re glowing," he pointed out. "Having a baby has made you even more beautiful, if that’s even possible."

"I don’t know what the hell you’re seeing, but it is definitely not a glow."

He squinted at your words and shook his head, you were wrong. To Charles' eyes you were beautiful.

"It is. Maybe we should have another baby very soon."

"Charles!"

"Tell mommy I'm joking, I don't want her to be angry. Daddy goes mad when your mommy is angry.” he joined the baby to the talk and you smiled. Your daughter's eyes met yours, without understanding anything her dad were saying.

“I love you, Charles.”

“Tell mommy I love her too.”

#charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #leclerc #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 #formula one #f1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula one x reader #formula one imagines

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sports-on-sundays · 2 months

Text

and I can change / CL16 / Part 2

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - Charles would do anything to convince you to forgive him. He'd do anything to revive his family.

Warnings: Again, Y/s/n is 'your son's name'. And again, his age is unspecified- you decide what you think. crying (LOTS of crying), mention of drunkenness, mention of sex, mention of cheating, broken relationships, broken family, censored cussing

Requested?: Yeah! Requested by some sweet souls who read part 1! @barcelonaloverf1life @architect-2015 @emz2092 @cilliansgirl @lunamelona @lightdragonrayne @leclercgirl16

Author's Note: You guys asked for it, so I gave it! I hope you enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Also I'm thinking after this part I'll write a part 3, and then after that maybe a little epilogue, to wrap this up. Tell me what you think. Also, this is the link to part 1 / and the link to part 3

"Y/n, people change.

"And I can change, too."

You lay on your bed, engulfed in the darkness of the room surrounding you. The darkness seems to go deeper than just your surroundings- deeper, and into you.

Over and over the scene plays through your mind. Those words that Charles had uttered. The way he had clutched your hand in both of his, as if it were his only lifeline. In that moment, the desperation his eyes had denoted was incredible.

Charles, why? Why couldn't you let go? You're making it all so much more complicated.

But you know what he would say. Why? Why, Y/n? Because this isn't just about myself. Don't you see the brokenness in our son? Don't you see it?

Guilt washes over you, and then rage.

I shouldn't be the one feeling guilt. He should. He's the one who messed up our family. He's the one who's fault it is!

The way he cried, though.

The desperation.

The thing is that he is feeling guilty. Or at least so it seemed.

But does he really deserve a second chance? Do you?

Your phone rings at 12:00 A.M. On the dot. Charles has always been on the dot. Unless he's drunk, that is.

Why is he calling?

Right when I'm thinking about him, too.

Although this really isn't too surprising, when you consider it. For the past week and a half or so, you've stayed up until roughly 2:00 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking, unable to convince yourself into peace and slumber.

And now a call comes.

Charles, why?

It feels terrible as you answer. "Charles. Don't call me."

"Y/n," he says in a calm voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you snap, trying to keep it down. Your son is sleeping (hopefully) in the next room.

"For reacting so emotionally. I'm sorry. For years this has weighed on me, but crying and begging won't get us anywhere."

"We're not going anywhere, whether you cry and beg or not." You hang up.

A month after that call where you rejected Charles for what you hoped would be the last time, there's a knock on the door on a Saturday. You walk to it, and freeze when you look through the peephole.

Why is Charles Leclerc here?

Anxiety hits you. The house is a mess, you've got no food to give him, you look like a mess in your pajamas and unbrushed hair-

How can he just show up at your door like this?

It's obnoxious.

You honestly are about to pretend you aren't home, but then Y/s/n suddenly runs in, squealing, "Mama, who is it?! Is it the mailman?"

You sigh at your son's strange fascination for the mailman. You're not completely sure why he enjoys the young, dry, monotone mailman, and for years just assumed because he was generally a nice bloke, and little kids are weird, until you realized with an ounce of dread that the mailman resembles Charles, in a way. After that, you've never encouraged his enthusiasm for the mailman, just in case that was the reason, whether conscious or not.

"No, no," you sigh, unlocking the door. "It's not the mailman, love."

"Who is it, Mama?"

As you swing the door open, you murmur, "Well, love, none other but your father."

"Daddy!" the little boy, still in his Lightning McQueen pajamas, squeals, running to hug his father. You glance away, staring at the floor.

Charles hugs your son, kissing him, and exclaims, "Aw, there's my little buddy! How are you, man?"

"I'm good, Daddy! Are you coming to live here now, Daddy?!"

"Ugh- Not quite..." He picks up your son, and looks to you, immediately saying, "Sorry it's such short notice."

You grit your teeth, murmuring, "You mean no notice?"

"Right," he nods with a quick exhale.

While the presence of your son is a burden for you, preventing you from showing your true feelings, it may be an advantage for Charles, to get across what he needs to get across. Whatever that may be.

Because this is all just a game. Everyone with their own different motives. Y/s/n wants Mama and Daddy to love each other because he wants one place to live. Charles' motives are unknown, but probably are just manipulative and selfish- about making himself feel better. And your motive? You don't want to relive the past, so will avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles' and Y/s/n's motives align more with each other than your's.

You look at your son. Who you love so much. He looks at you with hope. Charles looks at you with... a very similar expression.

These two.

How can you love one and hate the other?

They're both family, as much as you hate to admit it. Because one of them, you wish you could erase.

No. But you don't. Because if you'd never met Charles, Y/s/n would never have been born. And you can't even begin to imagine your life without him.

You hold the door open, and gesture to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. I'm going to get dressed, and then put the kettle on." You say all this through gritted teeth.

How can he just walk in as if he owns the place?

He nods. "Thank you, Y/n." You watch in the doorway to the hall as Charles sits down on the couch with his son on his lap. You watch as he says softly, picking up a toy car from off the rug, "This car is awesome, Y/s/n. Where'd you get it?"

"Mama got it for me! For my birthday!" Y/s/n takes it from his father's hand with much pride, and starts driving it across Charles' chest, up onto his neck, and eventually onto his cheeks. The whole time, Charles laughs, his hand on his son's back to keep him from tipping off his lap.

"That's a super cool car. Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh," Y/s/n frowns. "Zoom! Because he goes zooooom!"

"Oh, it's a he?"

"Of course," Y/s/n says, as if this fact should be obvious. Then he giggles, "Because girls smell."

"They smell?! No way. Girls don't smell."

"Yeah, they do," he crosses his arms, frowning at his father. "You don't know any girls. You only know... Uh, Cah-los."

Charles laughs out loud. "The only person I know is 'Cah-los'?"

"Yep! And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lorenzo, but that's it!" your son claims in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Their conversation continues, but you finally turn to leave and get yourself fixed up. You quickly shower, brush your teeth and hair, put on moisturizing cream, perfume, and deodorant, and put on a beige hoodie, grey sweatpants, and slides, before going to make tea. The whole time, you mind swirls.

Why is he here? Why is he here on a Saturday? Why is he here, without even asking to come? It's so... obnoxious.

You finish making two cups of tea, finding with awe as you make them that you remember exactly the way Charles likes his tea, and you're doing it automatically.

Because I used to do this so much.

You walk back in with the tea and see the two boys sitting on the rug now. Charles is tickling Y/s/n's tummy, and both of them are laughing- Charles with more of a chuckle and Y/s/n with more of a squealing giggle. When Charles sees you, he slowly stops, saying with a little sigh, "Alright, bud. Mama's back with my tea, and I mean to drink it."

"But Daddyyy!"

"Nope!" he grins, standing up, ruffling his son's messy hair. He then walks to you, and you hand him his tea. He lights up when he tastes the tea and looks at you, muttering softly, "My God, you remembered how I like my tea...?"

"Don't jump to sh*t, Charles," you murmur, soft enough for Y/s/n not to hear.

"Right," he sighs, sitting down again on the couch.

You set your tea down, walking to your son. "Alright, love. I want you to go in your room now, okay? Remember the Lego plane you were building? Why don't you work on that? I want to see it once it's finished, okay? And if you need anything, call, okay? Don't come in here. Just call, and one of us will come."

He looks questioningly. "Why, Mama?"

"Me and your father have important things to talk about. And if you don't listen, there will be consequences."

He blinks, pouting.

"I'll turn on your storybook audio for you. Come on." You bring him to his room and get him set up, until you're sure he's completely distracted with the Legos and the storybook. Only then do you come back to the living room and sit down awkwardly next to Charles.

He's still wearing his red windbreaker from when he was outside, and a black scarf hangs loose around his neck. His hair is a bit messed up, but he looks perfect, like always.

Too perfect.

"Let me take your scarf and jacket. And your shoes."

"Right," he says with a swift nod, handing you his scarf, coat, and sleek black boots. You put them by the door, and sit down, viewing the cozy grey sweater adorning his frame. You have a passing thought, considering how much unnecessary money he might have spent on such a garment.

"So?" you ask in a tense voice. "What is this all about, Charles?"

"There are some things we need to work out. You're right- one of the many things I've done wrong to you is always being a f*cking coward. You're right. I didn't say what was on my mind, and I faked it, and I kept quiet, because I didn't want to upset you. But now I see that the only thing I can do now is speak up, be honest, and be a man. You rightfully left me because I wasn't being a proper man. I wasn't being your proper man. I was being a terrible husband and a terrible father. But now we need to uncover what's true- we both have different views, both of which are likely exaggerated or incorrect in different ways."

"I don't care, Charles," you say quickly, flat out trying to ignore his admittance to wrong. Perhaps because you don't want it to be true. Because if he's sorry, that means you have to forgive him.

"So you're telling me you'd rather believe lies, just because it makes you feel better? What kind of thinking is that?"

You hate to admit that he's right. So you say nothing.

There's silence. But then he says, "So tell me what happened."

"You know what happen-"

"Tell me, Y/n." His voice isn't rude, but definitely firm.

You swallow, shaking your head. You don't want to work this out. You want to forget Charles. But clearly, that's impossible. "You were irresponsible. You'd get drunk, never be home, never help me. I'd be all on my own... You... You'd use me for your own pleasure but never show true, selfless love... Then you came home drunk saying stuff about a pretty woman and sex and getting pregnant... So you cheated... And I divorced you because I couldn't take it any more." You can't believe it, but you're trying not to choke up as you whisper, "Charles, what we had seemed perfect. Until you messed it up." Your mouth tastes like poison.

Charles stares down, his eyes swirling with everything but empty, at the same time. "Y/n," he whispers. "I was terrible. You're right. I was never around because I was immature and scared. I didn't understand. To get away from it, I drank and had fun with friends."

Your lip curls. "You're not the victim."

"And I never said I was! I was scared of being a father. I was scared of messing up. I wasn't ready and I let everything happen too quickly. I was a coward and I left you. Even though you divorced me, I was the one who left you. That's what happened. I was stupid. I was a terrible person. It's all my fault."

"Why would you be any different now? There's no way for you to prove that. Before the marriage you were fine. It was when we married that you went downhill. It was like... you couldn't stand me."

He looks torn apart. "I loved you. I... I... I still do. I knew I wasn't being a good husband or father and to forget about it, I drank."

"And why wouldn't you still do it now?!"

"Because I don't. I feel more guilt now than I did then! I feel more responsibility now than I did then! And that was my greatest fear! Responsibility! But now I don't drink excessively! Now I don't avoid reality! Because I need you... Our son needs us. Together. Don't you need me?"

"Not the you I know."

"You don't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was." His voice is so uncommonly firm, it slightly shocks you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

He goes on, "That night, I didn't cheat. I was intoxicated. A young woman was trying to seduce me, but I refused because I had you. You, my beautiful wife, both inside and out. I wanted to convey to you that I said no because you were my wife. However, I failed to communicate this properly, and the next morning, I had completely forgotten the conversation. I chose not to tell you because I thought it would be better if you didn't know. I was afraid you would be angrier with me for being in that situation. I was a coward, and I didn't want you to be upset with me. I didn't realize for years that you believed I had cheated. If I had known, I would have assured you that I didn't cheat, just like I am doing now, and that I never would. Because I didn't. Despite all the mistakes I made, cheating on you is something I would never, ever do. I have always loved you, and only you, far too much for that."

Your hands tremble in your lap as you stare at him, listening.

Now you're the one getting emotional.

Charles leans in close to you- too close for comfort- and whispers, "I've changed... Please. I just want a second chance... To right my wrongs and give you and our son the lives you deserve. I need to give my all to you... I need to make it up to you... It's... It's crushing me."

"Why do you need a second chance?" Your voice, for once, isn't aggressive. It's gentle. Softer. Your voice cracks as you say, "You should have done it right the first time."

You see him swallow. "And you know what? I didn't. I f*cked up. I f*cked up everything. I f*cked up your life and I know it. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back in time and fix it and make it all better. I was stupid, Y/n. I was terrible. I hurt the most beautiful woman and her baby in the world. I'm the least." He takes your hand again in both his, but this time it's a gentler grasp.

"But you're not. You're famous. You have so many fans."

"Do you know how many times I've thought I don't deserve all this? If only I could share it all with you."

"Charles," your voice cracks again, and an unexpected, terrible longing fills you. "I want to believe you, but I can't. I'm broken, Charles, because of you. I can't afford to let you break me again..."

A tear rolls down your cheeks, and immediately he reaches up with his thumb, gently wiping your cheek, "No, Y/n, please don't cry... I don't want you to cry because of me any longer... Please..."

"Charles, I can't do this..." more tears fall.

There's hurt and confusion, but mostly longing and guilt in his eyes. "Please... If you'd only trust me, then we could make this right. I could make this right, after all I did wrong."

You can hardly believe yourself as you let your broken, silently crying self fall into Charles. You allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder, and you allow his arms to wrap around you, giving you his warmth. "Charles..."

"Yes...?" There's a painful hope in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this..." you cry into his shoulder now.

He whispers right in your ear, "Just give me a chance. Let me be there for you... Let me prove to you... Let me..."

You can't give him a yes or a no. Two sides war inside you- the mask and the face. You feel him stroke your hair as you cry, at the same time as remembering stroking his hair when he was drunk and needed comfort.

This is some sort of paradox, isn't it?

"Charles," you murmur, leaning away after you've gained control of yourself. "The answer is 'I don't know' right now, okay... Consider it... better than hating your guts with an adamant 'no.'"

As he gazes into your eyes, he leans closer. Softly, he places a tender kiss on your cheek and whispers, "I'll be ready whenever you are. And I'll never, ever stop waiting for you."

Weeks pass, and Charles can't understand why, after all that happened that day, still you insist on avoiding him like the plague.

Well, the reason is just that- avoidance. You're avoiding Charles because you don't want to face the possible truth. You're avoiding him because you don't want to make big decisions. You don't want to try again. You don't want to...

Well, you don't want to fall in love again.

And on that day, the way he treated you...

It reminded you of the man you married, and not the man you divorced.

And that scares you. Because you'll never forget the man you divorced.

So you're stubborn and resistent, and you're avoiding him.

So you sit, staring at the screen of your cell phone. Rereading the text on it. Over and over.

Charles Leclerc: I'm sorry for such a long text Y/n but you probably won't read it anyway, so what does it matter? I need to talk with you and you're doing exactly what I've done, what I'm apologizing for. For years I avoided this stuff and one of the reasons we split was that i couldn't stand up and address and tell you my problems. I was being a f*cking coward. And I've said sorry more times than I can count. I thought you might be on the road to forgiveness, to giving me a second chance. I know you felt the same way as me when you leaned into me and let me hold you when you cried- there's something more here, and I don't want you to ignore this. Can't we just try this? Please Y/n? I'm finally willing to step up, be a man, work through all this sh*t with you. Talk about it. I'm finally willing to be brave, and as soon as I am, you're doing the same thing you've yelled at me for years for doing- staying silent.

Charles Leclerc: I love you, Y/n, and this is a problem I desperately want to fix, but the truth of the matter is that you're being a f*cking hypocrite.

Me: How does it feel to be in the position you put me in for years?

You feel mean for typing that, and you're not sure how much you mean it. Maybe you meant to be kinder.

But the anger took over and your thumbs did the talking.

Charles leaves that message on read.

You sit in the cold metal chair, surrounded by pudgy, middle-aged parents and their gross kids all around you as a lone young mother sitting by herself. You're only here to see your son, and none of the other aspects of this situation bring you an ounce of joy.

All of a sudden, a shiver runs down your spine as a firm hand gently lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps up, meeting the gaze of Charles Leclerc. A look of disdain crosses your face, causing your heart to ache as you bluntly ask, "Why are you here?"

Charles takes a seat beside you in the vacant chair and casually remarks, "I've come to attend my son's school concert. And you?" A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes.

Your jaw tightens in pure irritation, and you manage through gritted teeth in a tense, quiet tone, "Why did you choose to sit next to me?"

Charles hesitates, his expression softening, as he makes an effort to hold your gaze. "Well... Because I..." He swallows and says, "I'm not going to give up on you. That's why. So I figured I'd sit down next to you to watch my- our- son's concert. So..." Abruptly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The veins in his hand are visible as he clasps yours tightly.

Your muscles tense, yet for some reason, you don't pull your hand away.

So throughout the whole school concert, Charles sits, gripping your hand, and seems to refuse to let it go.

And the moment the teacher is done on stage after the little production, thanking people for helping and the kids for doing such a great job and other stuff you don't listen to, Charles turns to you and says, "So, we have some minutes to spare."

Your eyebrows scrunch together. "Come again?"

He chuckles, but it doesn't feel called for. "You weren't listening to her? She said the students can be picked up from their classrooms by their parents in fifteen minutes."

Your jaw clenches again. "Charles, why?"

"Because I know you want it," he says incredibly earnestly. The inside of your heart melts as the outside hardens.

"But I don't think I do."

"But I know you do. Now come on." Your ex-husband stand up, pulling you up with him.

"Where are we going?" you ask. "And please let go of my hand. You've been holding it so long, it's starting to get sweaty."

He clicks his tongue and doesn't respond to either of these, then guides you down various hallways until you reach the school's exit. Finally, he sits down with you on a bench outside the school, and releases your hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's just hang out here for the next ten minutes, okay? We should talk," he says awkwardly, facing you.

"I don't get it. Charles, there's nothing you can do to-"

Charles interrupts, holding your face gently, gazing into your eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say that," he pleads, his thumb brushing your cheek. "There's something we can do. We can make this work... Please..."

His desperation, his begging, makes you want to cry. "Please just let it go... Let me go..."

"No, I don't want you to be trapped... Don't you see you'll be more free with me? You won't have to work as hard.. I'll take care of you and our son... I'll take half the work in the house you have to deal with... I'll... We'll... I just want you to believe that we'll be happier... I'm not saying we need to jump to anything today. I'm just saying, let's be kind to each other... Let's go out to eat sometimes, or go to our son's events together. Let's act just a little bit more like a family, even if we aren't yet. I just want to- I need to- I- I- I..." He trails off. His hands fall off your cheeks, and his shoulders slack. His head goes down.

It's like just the hard look in your eyes alone crushed him.

Like that alone is the huge weight he's bearing.

"F*** me, Y/n... F*** me," he whispers, his hands in his lap trembling. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you. Doesn't matter how much I changed. I still have to live through the consequences of my actions, don't I?" He seems to be talking more to himself, but you have no idea at this point. "Just f*** me." He exhales shakily, before suddenly standing up. He stares you right in your eyes, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt, the destroyed desperation. "It's fine, Y/n." He's trying to keep a level face. But his voice cracks. "I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go. I can see all this is just hurting you more. I never meant to hurt you more. I never meant to bring up the past to hurt you. I wanted to help you... I wanted to help you heal..." He drags a hand over his face. "But clearly I f***ing didn't. Clearly I messed it up again. I f***ing messed up again." He swallows. His eyes glimmer with wetness as he practically whispers, "The last thing I want is to hurt you. So I'll drop it. I'm just being selfish again, aren't I? I think this would be better, but you don't. And that's hurting you. And I never wanted to..." He swallows, his nose crunching up. Suddenly he yells, "I never wanted to hurt you ever again, because I love you, for f***'s sake! I love you, but I did hurt you, because, in the end, no matter what, I'm going to f*** it up anyway! So bye, Y/n!" Suddenly he turns on his feet. Like he doesn't want you to see him cry again. But you can hear the tears in his voice when the last thing he calls back is, "It will go back to normal, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Pretend I'm a stranger! It's the best for you, anyway, apparently, and all I wanted was the best for you!"

You stare in shock as you watch him get in his car and drive away. You remain seated, gaze straight ahead. Tears well up in your eyes, and your body quivers, yet you manage to compose yourself, rise on unsteady legs, and compel yourself to return to the school to pick up your son.

But that just wasn't right.

I should have stopped him. I should have called him back. I should've.

How far can revenge go before it's gone too far?

For days, the guilt, the hurt, the rue- they weigh on you. Every moment of your days, it consumes your thoughts. Regret and confusion and anger fill you in every step, engulfing your every move. And if you thought you weren't getting any sleep before, now it's even worse.

You long to fix it, but you are unsure of how. Despite everything... You can't see how Charles isn't being honest. You want to have faith in him. A small part of you may even want to love him, just a little bit.

You're also fearful. Fearful of reaching out to him, because you don't know what you'd do. You have no idea.

But now you're dropping your son off at Charles's house. You swallow, and suddenly, on a whim, when you see Charles walking outside, waiting for Y/s/n, you get out of the car, too.

"Mama?" your son asks with a confused expression, still maintaining a little smile on his face.

You smile back down at him and say, "I'm walking you up to your daddy's house today, is all."

He shrug and nods, apparently accepting this.

He's such a good kid.

As you approach Charles, your smile twitches while you study him, but you say softly, "Hey, um... I... We..." Your tone sounds weak.

"Yes?" Charles asks, looking up. He looks perfect. As always.

Your eyes lock.

Please, Charles. I don't know how to say this. Please just understand.

His eyes remain blank. You let out a sigh.

And suddenly, you hug him.

Charles seems taken aback for only a moment, before he immediately hugs you back and says softly, "Hey... Want to come inside with me and Y/s/n?"

You nod. "Yes... Yes, please."

So Charles leads the two of you up to his flat. You sit down together on the couch, once again.

Last time you did this was the moment Charles cried out to you.

"Y/n, people change."

You swallow at the memory.

Is this another paradox? This time, will I be the one crying out to him?

Y/s/n is about to hop on the couch between you, but suddenly Charles scoops him up and says, "Hey, hey! I didn't get my hug from you yet, did I?!"

Your son giggles, getting comfortable on his father's lap, before giving him a big hug. "I scored a goal, Daddy..."

"You scored a goal?!" he grins. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! Mama cheered me on! I scored a goal when I played football!"

Charles looks so bright. Happy with his son. So proud. He doesn't get to see him as often as you do. "No way. You've got to be joking. Was it the winning goal?"

"Yep!" your son says proudly.

You find yourself smiling.

"Oh yeah, what was the score?"

Your son shrugs. "Dunno! But we won!"

You smile and mutter softly, "I think it was 4-1." Y/s/n plays in the little league team affiliated with his school.

"Yeah, but my goal made it 2-1, so I won it," he brags to his father.

Charles grins. "Oh, I'm sure it did. You know, I don't know where you got that talent for football from. Do you think Mama is good at football?"

Your son just shrugs with a grin, enjoying the affirmation from his father. "Dunno! But Mama is good at cuddling and playing with me."

Charles laughs. "Yeah, your mama takes good care of you." He glances at you with sparkling eyes, before looking back down at his son.

The two continue babbling on about sports and football and what not, until Charles finally ruffles his son's hair and says, "Well, buddy, I reckon it's time for me and Mama to have some alone time."

Y/s/n frowns. "Aw, why?"

"Because I want to talk with Mama about things that you won't care about. Boring grown-up stuff. Doesn't sound very fun, does it?"

Y/s/n shrugs, still looking uncertain.

"Hey, don't look so down. How about this? I'll go put on Cars for you. How's that sound?"

Your son grins at this, immediately jumping up, his demeanor changing abruptly. "Yeah, yeah!" he squeals, and you watch as Charles leaves with him to go set him up with that in another room.

But soon Charles is back. He gently shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, and immediately sits down next to you, facing you once more. "Hey, Y/n..." he says in a tentative but gentle tone.

You swallow. "Hey, Charles..." You feel yourself getting nervous again. "You're so... You're so good with Y/s/n."

He smiles. "You are, too."

There's no, And I'm sure we'd be even better with him together.

Charles meant it when he said he'd give up on it.

But you move closer to him. You take his hands. "This is a lot for me, Charles. I'm scared. I'm having issues with trust."

He nods slowly. "I know... I know..."

You swallow, and hug him again.

He holds you, hugging you back. He kisses your cheek. He whispers, "I understand if you're afraid. I understand if you're scared, or if you're having issues with trust. I'm so deeply sorry I've broken you like that."

Y/n, people change. And I can change.

The words come crashing into your mind like a ton of bricks, emerging from the depths of your memory.

"Charles-" you break in, your voice cracking. "Those words have haunted me."

"What words...?" he mutters softly.

You swallow. Breathe slowly. And you whisper, "You said to me 'Y/n, people change. And I can change.'"

"I have changed," he whispers.

"But," your voice cracks. "You said a lot of other s***, too. I remember, during our honeymoon..." A tear rolls down your face as Charles continues to hold you. "You said I'm yours and you're mine. You said we'd be forever. You said you'd do anything for me. You said we'd have three kids together, and you'd never stop loving me, and we would be a happy family. You said we'd grow old together, Charles. That's what you said. But all those promises- they were broken... They were broken."

"You didn't want them to be," he whispers calmly. "But don't you realize? Perhaps those promises were not broken, but rather, they have just not yet been fulfilled."

You look up at him, blinking. More tears roll down your cheeks. Charles gently wipes them away.

"I want to be able to fix what I did wrong. I want to be able to fulfill those promises I made to you. That's what I want, Y/n."

"Charles..." you breathe.

He looks so perfect.

"Yes?" he asks gently.

Your lip quivers, and you lean into his shoulder, and you sob.

And he lets you.

For however long, he holds you there, rubbing your back, letting you weep. Finally, you get a hold of yourself, and slowly pull away. You wipe your wet eyes with the backs of your hands, before sighing. "Charles, if we were to do this... If I were to give in..." You sniff. Your voice cracks again as you utter, "Please, don't hurt me again. I can't survive it again. I can't let you put me through that again..."

He pulls you to him again and whispers in your ear, "I won't. I won't. I won't let you down this time. Please don't be afraid of me... I want to love you... Let me love you... If you'll just let me, we can fix this... We have have a relationship in which we communicate more. Oh, Y/n..." he sighs. "Don't you realize how much I care? I- I would give my life for you."

You blink, staring at him.

Everything looks so promising. That's why you're scared.

It almost looks too promising.

"You say you would give your life for me. But would you really? Maybe you would you give your life for me if it meant losing it. But would you give your life to me while you're still alive? Would you clean the dishes? Would you help me when I'm sick? Would you grab an extra ingredient from the store if I needed it? Would you drive Y/s/n to school when you could? Would you really? You're gone half the year, as it is."

His jaw clenches, then un-clenches. "I would do anything and everything I could do for you. I want to share my life for you. Until death. And I'm one hundred percent sure on that. I've had years of thinking about this." There's hope in his lovely eyes.

So much hope.

You sigh, staring down at your lap.

"Y/n. I'm sorry. Please. Not only do I need your forgiveness. But your son does, too." He hesitates. "And I hope you know no matter what happens, the guilt of what I've done to you will weigh on me my whole life. That's why I want to fix it."

You gently slip your hand in his and whisper, "Please don't hurt me."

He wraps his fingers around your hand, holding it. "I won't."

You nod slowly, another tear rolls down your cheek, and it feels like all the molecules in your body are being ripped apart as you barely whisper, "Okay, Charles. We can try this again."

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angelrari · 5 months

Text

gossip girl · pt. xi

based on the tv series gossip girl

max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader

fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)

a/n: hi! sorry this took long! my personal life has been a roller-coaster these past days, but here's a new part for you, i hope you enjoy it! 🤍

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gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.

f1drivers

liked by username, username and 637 others

f1drivers max verstappen and charles leclerc arrive to the paddock for fp1-2 #lasvegasgp

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username ah yes the y/n lover duo

username i call them the edward and jacob of f1

username and y/n?

f1drivers apparently she came with max, but she used a private entrance

username i really need to know what's happening between them and y/n @/gossipgirl

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the city lights of las vegas' nightlife shined brightly and illuminated the whole town. the temperature had quickly dropped after the moon had risen, so you stood inside the red bull garage, with your hands in the pockets of the leather jacket you wore, waiting for max now the stewards had announced the fp1 session would not be resumed.

it had been a disaster. not even 10 minutes in, a loose drain cover had hit carlos' ferrari. max was right, this is a shitshow. luckily nobody had gotten hurt, but your blood ran cold at the thought of what could have happened.

"is carlos okay?". you heard max ask as soon as he got out of the vehicle.

"yes, he's fine".

max looked at you as he skillfully removed his helmet. it fascinated you: how the way the man who was always kind and tender turned into a hungry lion whenever he was in a racing suit and how his ocean blue eyes somehow turned a shade darker.

"seems like the start of fp2 will be delayed. they have informed us that they are checking all the drain covers now".

"great, fucking great". max said sarcastically.

"go rest, it seems like this will take long".

"yeah, yeah, i will".

max had waited until you were in his drivers' room, out of the public eye, to give you a chaste kiss. he had removed the top part of his elivs' inspired racing suit, that now was tied on his hips, and sat down on the sofa next to you.

"i have texted charles to ask him how carlos was". you told his as you intertwined your fingers with his. "and he told me everything is okay, but apparently he couldn't feel his legs for a few seconds".

"it doesn't make sense". he stated. "all that show for this? he could've got seriously injured".

"i know". you said. "it's scary to know they spent millions on this, but didn't even bother to check the drain covers twice".

"yeah". he tightened his embrace on your body. "aren't you tired? you didn't sleep well yesterday".

"kind of". you replied. "but it's okay, i'll drink another coffee later".

"and what are we going to do if you can't sleep later?".

"i'll wake you up because i will blame it on you".

"i'm sure i'll find a way to keep you entertained".

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yourusername has posted a story

caption: might have some trouble sleeping later

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max's fingers played with the buttons of your pink pajama shirt while yours caressed his damp hair. the smell of vanilla gel from the shower you had shared lingered on your bodies. now you laid on the hotel bed you shared, with your legs intertwined with his and feeling the beat of his heart against yours.

"you haven't had enough?".

"of you?". he said as he leaned in for a quick kiss. "never".

your hands moved to touch his face, feeling his stubble on your fingertips, you traced with your fingers the side of his jaw.

"i have to tell you something". you stated and his blue eyes starred into yours to look for a clue. "but promise me you won't get angry".

"that doesn't sound good".

"i know". you replied. "but nothing has happened, so don't worry".

"okay, i'm listening".

"yesterday charles confessed he still had feelings for me". you said. "when we were on our way back to the hotel, we were talking about léa and he told me he had realized that he didn't feel about her the same way he felt with me".

"he did?". he said and you nodded. "and how do you feel about it?".

"i love charles the way you love an old friend, i have many memories with him that are so dear to me". you explained. "but i know that what i once felt is not what i feel now and i'm sure that it's you the one who i want in my life".

"good". he said. "because i'm not letting you go anytime soon".

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taglist: @cha-hot @carlandonorri-s @raizelchrysanderoctavius @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @crlsummer @f1mockingjay @ssararuffoni @au-ghosttype @jointhehunt67 @amalialeclerc @lazybot @kimmchijjajang @roseseraj @ponkaniee @champagneproblems17 @starshapedb0x @aundercover @lqvesoph @coffeewhore18 @coolio2195 @crazysaladchopshop @mirrorball-6 @nataliambc @scenesofobx @stopeatread @woozarts @spaghetittied @inloveallthetime

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ilikeredcars · 5 months

Text

Two hearts, one love

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

Summary: Formula's one cutest couple also happens to be between a reporter and a certain pilot in red

Warnings: Broken bone (leg)

An: Hiiiiii!! I'm very very proud of this work (so if you don't like it pls don't tell me 😌) anywhoss, just remembering yall that I'm brazilian so English is not my first language, that means you have to forgive me if I make any mistakes LOL, ENJOYYY!

Being a reporter for Formula One truly isn't easy, but you love it and always did. You were indeed always fascinated by all the cars, drivers, teams and everything that had to do with the sport, so it wasn't surprising to anyone when you graduated college and soon got a job as a reporter to a highly successful TV channel. Your job was great, you could do together the two things you loved most, work for TV and Formula One. And that is how you met the third thing you love most: Charles Leclerc. He had just signed with Scuderia Ferrari when you two met. It was your first year as a field reporter, which meant you went around interviewing drivers, mechanics and team principals, basically anyone that you passed through who had time and knowledge enough to be interviewed. The day you two officially met was in the first Grand Prix of the season, it was qualifying day and Charles had just done amazingly well for such a young driver, fortunately the universe was on your side and you managed to get a interview with him, il predestinato, all dressed in red and with sweat dripping from his hair to his forehead and onto the sides of his face, that was the first time you saw him so close, and the moment he looked inside your eyes, the driver knew that the purpose of his life, was to make you his wife. And he did it, two years later you married in a beautiful church just outside Monaco, and it was the happiest day of your lives.

Current days

It is race week! And you couldn't be more happy with the excitement of every fan who passes by your side, you just love everything the paddock has to offer, maybe except for the giant cast on your right leg that couldn't go by unnoticed even if you tried. The week before you were walking home and in your way you encountered an old lady whose cane had fallen, without thinking twice you bent down to pick up the object for the poor woman who could clearly barely bend down, unfortunately for you, a car next to you lost control and hit you hard, fortunately he was not driving at a big speed and so the only injury you received was a broken leg, you were released from the hospital a day later with a cast on your leg and a crutch. And that's how you ended up here, this is officially your first race as Charles' wife and not as a reporter and you couldn't be more excited, with Charles help you got out of the car and was immediately flooded by questions and fans wanting to take a picture with your husband or wanting an autograph, you told him it was okay and gave him space to talk to the fans for about ten minutes. After some of the fans went away he walked slowly toward you with a giant smile on his face, "Sorry about that mon amour, let's get you to the garage okay?"

"Okay" You smiled and gave him a small kiss to his cheek, "I love you so much angel" "And I love you more bébé"

As you were walking to the red garage that was near the end of the paddock a reporter stopped you and you immediately recognized her as Rachel, the girl who was filling in for you until you took off your cast and could go back to work.

"Charles! YN! How are you love? Are you getting better after the accident?" She asked smiling towards you. She had a microphone in her hand and the cameraman had the camera pointed at you, Rachel can be your friend but this was still an interview and you had to be careful with what you and Charles said.

"Hey Rach! Fortunately I'm great! The accident wasn't too bad and I'm not feeling pain at all!"

"That is awesome YN!"

"Yeah! And let me tell you a secret..." You felt your husband's hand wrap around your waist and smiled. "...I have this great guy by my side who is helping me with everything I need!"

You turned to Charles who gave you a passionate smile and slowly pulled you in to give you a loving kiss (appropriate for the cameras around you, of course), you smiled and found home in his embrace.

"Okay okay, let's let the lovebirds be! Haha! It was great seeing you both. Good luck on the race today Charles and hope you get better YN!"

"Bye bye Rach! Thank you!"

"Merci Rachel" Said Charles before turning once again to you and helping you continue your way toward the garage. As soon as you entered the space you grabbed your husband's hand carefully.

"I love you so so much and I'm so proud of you my love. You have no ideia how much I look up to you"

"Je t'aime tellement mon ange, je l'ai toujours fait et je le ferai toujours"

*I love you so much my angel, I always have and I always will*

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #formula one x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles lechair #ferrari #charles leclerc x wife #charles leclerc x reporter #formula one #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc blurb #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you #charles leclerc x yn

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calirph · 19 days

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All quotes here have been taken from different sources of media, literature, television, movies and more regarding medieval or period drama quotes in the context of those stories, some might work on more modern setting but these were made with the intention of medieval and fantasy settings. Change names, pronouns and locations as you see fit.

I just wish he'd have the decency to say whatever he came to say in front of his wife.

His wife should track him like a bloodhound.

Let him who knows who he is be no other but himself.

Seduction, as you know by now, for women starts with the ears and for men starts with the eyes.

She is my friend, and there is nothing you can say or do that can stop me from helping her.

You seem a might bit distracted this evening. Is something the matter?

History belongs to those who write it.

But I have never lost faith... even if the world turned upside down I could still find you.

Some mistakes are bound to be repeated.

Do you plan on marrying Charles?

This is a time of change. This is a time of enormous power.

Do you understand the meaning of the soil beneath your feet?

The other Clans will soon arrive. The greatest times of our family are before us. And so are the darkest.

Tonight must be our secret. Swear it.

You pander to her. You spoil her. You make such a fuss over her when she tantrums. This is what happens when you raise a child like that.

I´ve always wanted him to love me the way I loved him.

We were arrogant and naive, thinking we knew what we felt then was love.

A man´s desire is a powerful thing. It can reduce a strong man to nothing. When he sees a woman who fascinates him, he will give up everything for her.

You are like a golden rose, a rare bloom but no less lovely.

So, you see, you're not the only ones who have lost someone. War doesn't discriminate, Petra.

What you think is indecent, I do to my wife every morning before breakfast. There is no such thing as indecent between a husband and a wife. The only thing indecent is a cold marriage bed.

The earl and I...We were... not intimate.

He fought in the war. He might fall apart, fly off the handle, go off the rails.

Mr. Russell, don’t you think I’m too young for you?

To be humiliated so publicly. I don't know. I never wished him ill.

He wasn’t quite what you’d hoped for, was he, Mother dear?

It is easier to start a war than to end it.

All I am guilty of is surviving, and for that, I will not apologize.

There is no law that gods must be fair, Achilles.

How many times can a heart be shattered and still be pieced back together?

She succeeds because she is loved and respected.

I have waited to see you again when none believed that you should ever return; I would have waited for ever.

Your lips are calling for me.

This is your home now. You're one of us, and we take care of our own.

You have a spine of steel and fire in your eyes, Rosalie.

I've never met anyone as kind as you are.

A little taste before the wedding, Jayden?

God’s given you to me, and as soon as He allows, I’ll claim you as my own.

I brought you something. It gets cold in Nashville in the wintertime.

It seems you want me at your mercy, Princess. The question is why?

I am a slave in your palace.

To speak my truth, even if my voice shakes.

What would you say if I asked to kiss you?

Will you allow me to kiss you?

Do I have a choice? Doesn’t it happen with or without our consent? Falling in love, that is.

I have the power, and you will obey me.

You’re a lady. It’s written all over you.

It is amazing what a woman can do if only she ignores what men tell her she can't.

I am not a besotted fool. If you think to jilt me, think again.

It's all my fault. He was trying to save me.

All things in Fiji are paid for in blood.

I have not forgotten that I am a Norman, nor the responsibilities that I bear.

I swear I will be a lady worthy of our family name, worthy of England, and worthy of my conscience.

Being set apart is lonely, until you find purpose.

My faith has promised me to me to my king.

I want your reputation... I want everything you have.

Remember when I told you I would marry none but a warrior, Collector?

I want you to be the father of my child, yes, more than any other man in the world.

I am the flesh of your flesh, and you are the heart of my heart.

My father fought against the infidels during the last crusade. It cost him his life.

Grace saves us, but is not grace beautiful? I think it must be full womanly, even, to draw men in, and to give us a second birth.

Marriage is less about love and more about who is right.

A woman's life is never a fairy tale ... neither is war.

You're not made of kings, boy, but of common clay.

I'm Uther's daughter and sole heir: Morgan Pendragon.

Who better than you, King Lot, my father's strongest opponent.

If we forge a union, we'd have the strength to unite the realm. As King and Queen.

Ambition for its own sake is worthless.

Uther's daughter, Arthur's sister. You can't be defined by others. People need to know you for yourself.

The past doesn't matter. Define yourself in the present, and you might rule in the future.

We are going to build a land full of hope and honor where fear is extinguished, to which people will flock from far and wide, seeking out our beacon of light.

With a little luck, in time, you might fall in love with him. And if you don't, before you know it,he'll give you children, and then you'll love them.

Well, the most enticing aspect for any man is the forbidden. But you'll just have to forego the looks from men other than your husband.

What exactly do you think I'm capable of?

To forget myself. To lose the world for a moment.

One rumour of my death, and you proclaim a new leader! A king could get offended.

If she takes the crown, I'll tell you what you get. Fear!

You have no rights in this kingdom anymore.

#meme #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #◟ ⋆ memes › roleplay sources.#medieval meme #historical fiction meme #fantasy meme #medieval fantasy meme

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thearchercore · 3 months

Text

why charles, ironically, is a good fit as a potential condender for a red bull seat and why red bull needs a driver like charles (an essay)

charles embodies the "red bull gives you wings" mentality and branding. red bull prides themselves with pushing limits, constant adrenaline rush of the sports they currently sponsor/participate in. just look at his recent instagram posts, he loves doing weird side quests for the adrenaline rush -- something ferrari does not particularly enjoy. for instance, he once tried skydiving (to quote @gaslightgirlsummer "he’s legally not allowed to do it anymore. he was actually legally not allowed to do it when he did it the first time around either"). when he got asked about it, he said "in case it went wrong, i would not be here to be told up".

max and checo, on the other hand, prefer only racing. they don't do anything extra during their prep or training. in fact, max prefers to train in the privacy of his own balcony. the both don't really resonate with the initial message red bull is trying to push, they only do so exclusively when racing.

red bull is in desparate need of keeping themselves interesting for potential sponsors and just in general, being in the public eye and remaining relavant. their main goal is to sell the drinks, after all. max recently had an interview with the TIME magazine, released around the vegas weekend, conducted around COTA, the interview highlighted that max's focus is on racing and the PR responsibilites pretty much drain his energy because they are part of the sport. it showcased that despite the results in racing, they need someone who's more interesting for sponsors/events to keep themselves in the spotlight, which max and checo don't really do. charles, on the other hand, attends these events quite smoothly.

recently, christian horner at the ferrari movie premiere:

Christian Horner says Ferrari would be ‘crazy’ not to keep hold of Charles Leclerc:

Horner on the contract extension rumours:

🗣️: “It’s totally natural, he’s a great driver. I’m sure they’ll want to keep hold of him and they’d be crazy if they didn’t.”

there's more but to align it with my previous charles PR rebrand post, it's truly fascinating to see charles and his PR team push the narrative of all his adrenaline side quests as of recent from his training (24 hour ski trip from italy to austria and back, or the sliding). i'm not saying that charles is going to red bull, i still believe he wants to give ferrari one more chance, but i am convinced charles has a solid back up plan if ferrari does not deliver again, and red bull keeps their door open in case charles wants to look for a team alternative in the future. don't forget contracts have mutliple exit clauses, and it would be stupid to think charles did not secure the ferrari contract with multiple to make sure he wouldn't waste his active racing years at a team that won't deliver and help him achieve the WDC title. don't forget what charles said - he's ready to leave ferrari if he does not believe in the project anymore.

"Whenever I don't believe in the project anymore, I'll have to go away. Because it’s in these kinds of situations that you don't get the best out of yourself, that you don't help the team as much as it needs to be helped."

and that's exactly what's happening. now it's up to ferrari to deliver on the said project.

#charles leclerc #lestappen gate 2023 #formula 1 #lestappengate #f1

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pucksandpower · 11 months

Text

IN MY BLOOD

Y/N SENNA x CHARLES LECLERC

Series Masterlist

INTERLUDE: Grid Walks

2000 — Age 5

“Hello, Y/N. How are you enjoying race day so far?” Martin asked, bending down to her level.

Y/N grinned mischievously, “Oh Mr. Brundle, I love it! But you know what? I've been to so many races that I think I know this place better than you.”

Martin chuckled, intrigued by her confidence. “Is that so? Well perhaps you can give me a guided tour sometime.”

Y/N's eyes sparkled with excitement. “Deal. But first you have to catch me!” With that, she darted off into the paddock.

“Hey, where are you going?” Martin called out, chasing after her.

But Y/N was already gone, her laughter echoing through the air. Martin found himself in a comical game of cat and mouse, weaving through the paddock, trying to keep up with the energetic young Senna.

Finally, after a series of twists and turns, Martin managed to catch up with Y/N. She was standing by the side of the track, giggling uncontrollably. “Gotcha!” she exclaimed, clearly proud of her mini-adventure.

Martin gasped for breath, a grin forming on his face. “Y/N, you really gave me a run for my money. You're as fast as your father on the track!”

Y/N smiled in delight, her small chest puffed with pride. “Thank you, Mr. Brundle. I'm just getting started.”

2004 — Age 9

Spotting Y/N near her father's memorial, Martin approached her with a smile. “Hello, Y/N. How's the karting going?”

Y/N's eyes lit up and she eagerly launched into a passionate monologue about her karting experiences. “Mr. Brundle, you won't believe it. I had this incredible race last weekend. I started from the back but I overtook one kart after another and finished on the podium!”

Martin listened intently, captivated by Y/N's enthusiasm. “That sounds like an amazing race. It's clear that the racing genes run strong in your family. Your father would be proud.”

Y/N nodded vigorously, her ponytail bouncing with excitement. “I want to be the best, just like him. I practice every day and study every race I watch.”

Martin couldn't help but smile at Y/N's determination. “I have no doubt that you'll achieve great things. Keep pushing and one day we might see you in a Formula 1 car.”

2008 — Age 13

On the grid, Martin spotted Y/N intently observing the mechanics working on the cars. He approached her with a smile, ready to engage in a conversation about the technical side of the sport.

“Y/N, it's great to see you here. What fascinates you most about Formula 1?”

Y/N's eyes sparkled as she replied, “Hi, Martin! I love everything about it. The aerodynamics, the engineering, the strategies — it's like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Did you know that the airflow around the car affects its performance? It's amazing!”

Martin raised an eyebrow, impressed by Y/N's knowledge. “Well, you certainly know your stuff. I might have to come to you for technical insights in the future.”

Y/N beamed with pride. “Absolutely! Anytime you need a crash course in this side of F1, just let me know.”

Martin chuckled, enjoying their banter. "I might take you up on that offer. Just be prepared for a barrage of questions."

Y/N nodded eagerly. “Bring it on, I'm always up for a challenge.”

As they continued their conversation, Martin couldn't help but notice Y/N's genuine passion and curiosity for the technical aspects of Formula 1. It was clear that she had inherited her father's analytical mind and thirst for knowledge.

“Y/N, you remind me so much of your father. He had a similar fascination with the technical side of racing,” Martin remarked, a touch of nostalgia in his voice.

Y/N's eyes widened with excitement. “Really? That means so much to me. I've always looked up to him and admired his approach to racing. If I can carry even a fraction of his dedication, I'll be happy.”

Martin smiled warmly at her. “You're already making your own mark. Keep nurturing that passion and who knows where it will take you?”

2012 — Age 17

Martin found himself amidst the bustling paddock, searching for the now seventeen-year-old Y/N Senna. He spotted her in deep conversation with her future team, a determined expression on her face.

Approaching her with a smile, Martin congratulated her on signing her first Formula 1 contract. “Y/N, congratulations on your contract! How does it feel to be back in the paddock but as a driver this time?”

Y/N's face lit up with joy as she replied, “Thank you, Martin! It's an incredible feeling — a dream come true. I can't wait to show what I'm capable of on the track.”

Martin nodded, his excitement mirroring Y/N's. “I have no doubt that you'll do amazing things. Your journey has been incredible to witness, from that mischievous young girl to the talented racer standing before me today.”

Y/N filled with gratitude, her eyes glistening with determination. “Thank you. Your support means the world to me. I'll give it my all and make my family proud.”

Martin patted her shoulder, a paternal gesture filled with encouragement. “Remember, you carry the legacy of a true racing legend. Your father's spirit and passion live on through you. Embrace the challenge, enjoy every moment, and keep making us all proud.”

As the interview concluded, Martin couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and anticipation for the upcoming season, where Y/N Senna would make her Formula 1 racing debut.

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Martin leaned closer to Y/N and whispered, “You know, your father was known for his incredible speed and skill on the track. But you seem to have inherited his mischievous spirit too.”

Y/N laughed, her eyes shining with a mix of innocence and determination. “Maybe I got it from him. I can't promise I won't give you another run for your money someday, Martin.”

Martin chuckled, his heart filled with warmth. “I'll be ready for the challenge. Just make sure I have my running shoes on.”

With a final wave and a shared laughter, Martin left the grid, eagerly awaiting the moment when Y/N would grace the Formula 1 circuits as a driver. He knew that her journey would be filled with triumphs, challenges, and the unwavering support of so many motorsport legends.

As the engines roared and the lights dimmed on the current season, the motorsport world brimmed with anticipation for the next. They eagerly awaited the day when Y/N Senna, with her father's legacy as her guiding star, would step into her racing car and write her own chapter in the history of Formula 1.

And so, the world watched with bated breath, knowing that the story of Y/N Senna would unfold in the seasons to come. With every lap, every victory, and every challenge she faced, Y/N would make her mark, continuing the legacy of her father while creating a legacy of her own.

And through it all, Martin Brundle would be there, cheering her on, sharing in the excitement, and forever grateful for the lighthearted moments they shared during those unforgettable grid walks.

Taglist: @xeliaaaa @cl16version @aileeincomplexity @uh-oh-spaghetti-oh-my-gosh @ninifee1802 @oprantodomar @vanishingcherry @ferraribabe @magicalcowboyarbiter @materialgirl01 @miureiz @kavyaas-world @noodle81937 @cl16gf @laura-naruto-fan1998 @stillbreathin @alexisquinnlee-bc @chiliwhore @itachissneakylink @lxverboy-333 @nim360 @celestialams @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @sharllec @sticksdoesart @ivegotparticulartaste @kruellaaa @multifandomfanfic @love4lando @lunehlana @judeswifey22 @gentlemonsterjennie1 @spencerrxids @eugene-emt-roe @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @g4ns3y @notleclerc @magical-imagination-kgp @ru-kru @christianpulisic10 @paigem00 @paletragedydreamer @fluffyspaceprincess @ironmaiden1313 @dr3lover @deviltsunoda @belennasif @honethatty12 @idkiwantchocolatee @omgsuperstarg @jwilder0406 @ruleroftheuniverse @chonkybonky @angelulls @daniellarogers @ocyeanicc @serenityleah @dazecrea

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leighsartworks216 · 3 months

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Walten Files 4 Notes/Messages Transcribed

Anything I couldn't read is in [], with my best guess at what it says or "can't read", if there isn't enough information to make a guess with, or "unsure" if I cannot understand the writing.

At 2:54

Charles Brook: 10.10.1970 Hi! Just got hired officially as the computer supervisor for "Unnamed Bunny Smiles Restaurant" (though I've been coming up with a few names myself) I've known these guys for a while, they're family! I've done some work for them along with Susan for years now, even before CyberFun Tech! Getting to meet the Waltens and the Krankens has been super fun! So excited to get to work! The future is bright. C. B. P. 27:12

Worth noting, P. 27:12 is a proverb from the bible, "The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty."

At 8:40, in text that is upside down and flipped

Mr. Kranken This is Norman. I’m sending you this letter on behalf of our deal between Bunny Smiles and CyberFun Tech and most importantly, the well-being of our Cyberfun staff. We’ve been getting a lot of complaints about a member of our staff going missing who was highly associated with you and your team. Susan Woodings has been missing for a week now and here in CyberFun Tech we are working as hard as we can to try and manage to get in contact with her. Is there perhaps any detail you could hand us to help locate our missing employee? I’m going to be entirely honest with you, Mr. Kranken, and tell you I have a ton of questions and suspicions about whatever is going on with your company. Whatever it is, it’s making both your company and mine look bad to public light so, again, if there’s anything that could help us find Susan, write us back immediately. Thank you. I’ll see you Monday.

A second later, a sentence appears

SUSAN HAS BEEN STRUGGLING TO BREATHE FOR [3?] DAY SHE [can’t read] ANYMOR[E]

At 9:14

Employee Notes #[404?] By: C. B. BSI Notes [crossed out] The BSI Console The Bunny Smiles Incorporated console allows the robots of Bon's Burgers feel a lot more lifelike and allow for a more fun and interesting experience. I think this is an ambitious and innovating concept I would've never expected to make in my life. Susan did not disappoint at all. Absolutely stunning and delicate work. Jack was fascinated. Never seen anything like it! Felix was both amazed and scared, he doesn't understand a thing about how it works!

At 9:20

Walkaround Test (Week 1-2) By: C. B. Week 1: Banny knocked over the table! Rework room recognizing feature! Bon test went well, recognized Sophie right away! Sha is next Boozoo's magic trick bit went well, [unsure] but he'll do better next time. Week 2: Banny fixed, test went as planned. Mask broke down from last incident. Bon walkaround test went well, way better than expected. Mask broke down Get new mask by Friday! There should be a spare one in the workshop

#walten files #the walten files #walten files 4 #the walten files 4 #twf #transcript #twf 4 #walten files spoilers #the walten files spoilers #twf spoilers #twf 4 spoilers

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